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Ethan is thirty and he’s still alive. Each night he goes to bed and thinks: Still here, lady!

One month down. Eleven to go.

Most of his friends have stopped talking about it. The women at work who gave him self-defense presents no longer seem especially concerned.

All the online chatter seems to have died down again too. He’s noticed before how fast the world moves on from a story without any further “bombshell” developments. His feed will be filled with articles about a missing person, a murder or a scandal, and then nothing, and you don’t even notice until one day you think: Wait, did they ever find that missing person?

Presumably not.

His anxious plane friend hasn’t forgotten. Leo checks in every four or five days since Ethan’s birthday, which is nice, although obviously there is some self-interest involved because his forty-third birthday is approaching, at which point he needs to avoid a workplace accident.

Only eleven months before I prove her wrong, Ethan texts back to Leo’s most recent message. Normally Leo responds with a thumbs-up emoji, but this time, to Ethan’s surprise, he says, Fancy a drink?

They meet in the early evening at the Robin Hood Hotel: casual, laid-back; seems very unlikely anyone will try to assault Ethan at this time or location.

Ethan gets there first, and Leo arrives a minute later, stressed about something to do with parking and immediately launches into a story about how he recently got in touch with an old friend with whom he was “effectively estranged for many years.”

“Good for you,” says Ethan. He has no idea why Leo is telling him this story, but it seems appropriate to clink his glass against Leo’s in a celebratory manner.

“Thanks!” Leo beams. “So, the reason I mention it is the lady’s brooch.”

It’s really hard to keep up with this guy.

“Brooch?” Ethan has to think for a moment. “Is that…jewelry?”

“Yes, she was wearing a brooch, and it had some kind of symbol on it that I vaguely recognized, so I thought it had something to do with me, very narcissistic, I know.”

“Okay,” says Ethan.

“Well, I think I’ve worked it out. I’m pretty sure it’s a mathematic symbol.” He removes a beautiful fountain pen from his pocket, turns over his coaster, and writes. He holds up the coaster.

Ethan looks at it and says, “The Kronecker delta symbol?”

Leo points at him, delighted. “Exactly! I guess you studied it as part of computer science, right?”

“Sure, but why would she be wearing it? And, ah, what’s it got to do with you?”

“Oh, well, it’s just that it was developed by Leopold Kronecker, who was a mathematical genius. My name is Leopold, although everyone calls me Leo, but this friend I got back in touch with, we were at university together, and it just brought back this memory of us in a tutorial learning about Kronecker’s theory and him saying, ‘Leopold the Mathematical Genius!’?” He puts on a deep booming voice as if he’s saying Leopold the Lion Tamer ! He chuckles fondly. “So that’s how I remembered.”

Ethan thinks. “But what could it signify?”

“No idea,” says Leo. “I mean, it’s just a useful way of simplifying a long, complicated expression. It’s widely used: engineering, math, physics, computer science. Maybe she works in one of those fields?”

“You think she uses a mathematical formula to tell the future?”

“I don’t know,” says Leo. “All I know is that if she’s wearing it on a brooch it must mean something to her.” His phone buzzes, and he looks at it, frowning.

“Sorry, mate, I should go.”

“Your wife?” guesses Ethan.

“My boss,” says Leo, and he hurries off, no longer looking like he’s celebrating anything.

—

When Ethan gets back to the apartment, the place is dark and feels deserted. It doesn’t feel like Jasmine is out; it feels like she’s gone.

He sits on the couch and stares at the brand-new fish tank Jasmine recently had installed. It takes up a full wall. The unique “aquascape” is loosely inspired by an amazing scuba-diving trip Jasmine once did in Mozambique. Ethan felt faint when he saw the casually discarded invoice. It cost more than a house deposit.

Gorgeously bejeweled tropical fish slide purposefully back and forth, without actually getting anywhere. With their fancy tails and unusual fins they remind him of ladies in an over-the-top period drama. Tiny luminescent fish dart between the rocks on the sandy bottom. It’s quite remarkable, but is it reducing his blood pressure?

He thinks not.

His phone dings. It’s Jasmine.

Hopefully she’s home for dinner. He’ll make something she likes.

But then he reads the message. She’s texting from the airport lounge to let him know Carter is getting way too stalkerish and freaking her out, so she’s giving him some space and going to stay with her brother in Paris for a few months. She was planning on spending Christmas in Europe anyway, so it makes sense to go early. Hopefully he’ll enjoy having the place all to himself, oh, and could he please feed the fish?

For the first time since he’s lived with her, he feels ordinary flatmate annoyance.

I don’t want to feed your fish, Jasmine. I don’t like fish.

He texts back, Sure, no problem. Have fun!

Her text appears: Thanks! PS: Flying commercial. OMG, I know it’s better for the environment but SO much waiting!

Is she for real? She must surely know he’s never flown anything but commercial. He can’t even answer that text.

Harvey chortles: So, you’re stuck feeding the fish heiress’s fish while she’s in Paris. This is really working out well for you, mate.

There is a pounding on the door.

Someone’s fist. He knows whose fist even before he hears Carter’s voice: “Jasmine! It’s me!”

He must have gotten someone to buzz him in downstairs, or someone held the door for him. It’s not like he’s an unfamiliar face around the place.

“I just want to talk!”

Ethan feels a surge of fury. It’s Carter’s fault Ethan now has the responsibility for these expensive fish.

“Jasmine!” Carter shouts, and bangs his fist over and over like he’s trying to knock the door down. Does he truly believe this is an effective way to win back a woman’s heart? It’s bloody terrifying. “You owe me this!”

Should he call the police?

Ethan puts in his AirPods, turns up his music loud enough to give him permanent hearing damage, and waits for the snooty neighbor in the opposite apartment to do it first.