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Hana wakes up sweaty, sheets twisted around her in a knot. Her head is pounding, the room is shifting on its axis as she sits up, the rattan chair in the corner and the cheese plant beside it stretching and elongating before her eyes.

The sensation makes her feel disoriented, anxious, and for a moment, she’s back there—the panic-filled days after Liam’s death. Not just one grief but two: the loss of Liam and also the loss of their dream of starting a family, snuffed out before they’d gotten off the starting blocks. A few months before his accident, they’d taken tentative steps toward IVF.

Hana was consumed by regrets.

Why hadn’t they started the process sooner? Taken action rather than just talked about it? At least she’d have had something of Liam. Something to hold on to while everything else fell away.

Another surge of nausea.

Swinging her legs out of bed, Hana walks to the sink in the bathroom and refills her glass. She reaches for her transparent zip-up toiletry bag filled with medical supplies. She’s turning into her mother, she thinks, popping two tablets from the foil packet of paracetamol. Always be prepared.

Slipping them into her mouth, she takes a large swig of water, followed by the greedy gulps you only do when you’ve been drinking.

Her phone is on the bedside table. She picks it up, carries it over to the window.

A perfect square of summer: blue sky, trees, canary yellow curve of the hammock stretching across the terrace.

Hana takes a photo, flicks through the ones from last night. The first makes her smile: a grinning group shot on the beach, their backs to the water. The image is out of focus, the photographer—Caleb—obviously moving as he’d snapped it.

After the meal they’d gone to the beach as Jo had suggested. No one swam in the end, but they’d dipped their feet in the water, set the world to rights. She’d had some cringingly intense conversation with Caleb, perched on the rocks at the edge of the beach—something about his work, environmental policy. At one point, Jo and Seth had a drunken row that sputtered out as quickly as it began.

The beach interlude ended with a call to Bea that went to voice mail, after which they’d sent her the group shot. Hana smiles, imagining Bea’s grin when she saw it, their sunburned, moon-faced smiles. What did the message below their photo say? Something sloppy, sentimental. Wish you were here. Caleb’s doing kisses down the phone...

A text in reply: Guys... love you but I’m at a work event. Speak soon.

Hana can picture Bea at this event—busy and solicitous, saying all the right things in just the right tone. This is what she thinks of as Bea 2.0: smart, expensive clothes, discreet jewelry, fair hair swept away from her face. Nothing like the unsure, bookish sister she grew up with, who loathed dressing up.

She keeps swiping: Caleb’s taken a few of the same group shot, but when she reaches the last image, a ripple of disquiet moves through her. He’d obviously snapped the photo as the group had started to disperse, the effort of holding a fixed smile too much. I can’t do it , she remembered Seth laughing.

Hana’s still half smiling, but Jo has turned away. She’s looking at Hana, clearly unaware the photograph is being taken. The expression on her face pulls Hana up short, Jo’s features frozen into a strange mask of something dark.

Hana can’t quite make out what it is. Fear? Hate?

Her thoughts slide to the note that had dropped from Jo’s bag. Maybe there was more to it than she thought.

Walking over to her holdall, she rummages in the side pocket where she’d shoved the letter on the jetty. Carefully smoothing it out between her fingers, she looks again at the words.

Hana,

I’m sorry. I’m sorry . I’m sorry.

Her stomach twists. Part of her feels compelled to knock on Jo’s door right now and ask her what it means, but another part of her recoils at the idea, knowing the drama that will inevitably ensue.

Keep calm and carry on.

It’s all she needs to do. One week together and then they can go back to minimal contact. Now that she’s an adult, she can decide how often she sees her sister, the kind of relationship they have.

It’s one of the few good things that came out of what happened. Hana had realized these past few months, after everyone had drifted away, left her alone in her grief, that if she can survive Liam’s death, then she can survive anything.

She’s stronger than she thought.