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Once the detectives have gone, Maya lies down, dark curls splaying out over the pale fabric of her coat. “Han, try to go back to sleep. There’s nothing you can do. Not now. You need to sleep.”

Hana looks at her, incredulous. How can Maya even think about resting?

A wave of nausea pushes through her as she thinks about the group arriving on the jetty only a few days ago, reduced to this. The two of them. She can’t bear it. “I just don’t understand.” Tears are welling up, hot behind her eyes. “Caleb... he loved Bea. How he talked about her—you can’t fake that.” Hana scrolls through their conversations in her mind, a ball of anger and frustration burning in her chest. She recalls his palpable grief. How had she missed something so vital?

“People lie, Han, you know that.” Maya’s voice is dull.

“I know, but how would he have had the opportunity? We’ve been together most of the time.”

“Not all. I was just thinking about it, we’ve been in our own little bubbles after everything that’s happened, taken for granted that he’s been in his room, but he could have snuck out. There’ve been loads of times that he went up alone to the restaurant, said he was getting drinks or something to eat, but God knows what he was doing. I couldn’t tell you the exact movements of any of us, not really.”

Hana nods, churning it over. “But how could he do something like this? Something so wrong ? Even if you hated someone’s guts it doesn’t give you the right to—” She breaks off, tears escaping, spilling down her cheeks.

“I don’t know. How do you ever get inside someone else’s head?” Maya pauses. “And Han, it’s not up to you to find answers. We’ve been through enough. Jo... she’s dead.” She tries to catch Hana’s eye. “We haven’t even talked about what’s happened yet, have we? Jo, I mean.”

Hana nods, and all at once she feels it catching up with her. All the anger she’s felt about Jo mixed with a strange kind of guilt. Regret. Love. A complex blend that she’s unable to parse, let alone grapple with. She can actually feel it, thick in her throat, all the emotion somehow stuck, clotted there.

“I can’t forgive her for what she did with Liam, but I loved her, Maya,” she says falteringly. “Bea too.” She swallows. “I loved them so much, and now they’re gone.”

“I know.” Maya takes her hand in hers, and it’s there, on the floor of the room with strangers asleep all around them, that the tears and the real feelings come rushing out. The tears are not just for her, but for Bea, Liam, all of it. All the emotions knotted together in one big ball, and it’s only now unraveling.

“I’m alone, Maya,” Hana says, for the first time not just saying it aloud but acknowledging it in her own head. “I’m all alone. My sisters are dead.” Her chest is heaving as it hits her. A sledgehammer of grief.

Maya looks at her. For a moment, Hana thinks she’s about to cry too, but then she reaches for Hana, pulls her down beside her, wraps her body tightly around hers.

Hana remembers them doing this as kids, the last time, the night of the fire. Maya always had bad nightmares, so Hana would curl up behind her until she went back to sleep.

“You’re not alone,” Maya says softly. “I promise you. You’ve got me. And this time, Han, I won’t leave you. I’m here for you as long as you need.”