Camille opened the door. She didn't look like she was expecting me at all, but she didn't look shocked, either. That shocked me. She was wearing a hearts and cupcakes patterned apron which was in accordance with the smell that filled the flat. It didn't smell like Luke. It smelt like chocolate cake.

"It smells great." I said.

It smells great. What an appropriate greeting to introduce myself at my ex-boyfriend's house after he's betrayed me. I was about to say something else, something normal, an explanation of the reason I was there – which I wasn't sure about – but Camille didn't seem surprised by my out of place comment either. She looked like a dark-haired version of Dona Reed. Cheesy and coy.

"Thanks, I'm making brownies. I just put them in the oven. Come in."

I followed her to the kitchen, not knowing what to say or what to do, looking at both sides to check if there was someone else in the house. There wasn't. No Luke.

The kitchen lights were all on, and it was annoyingly bright in there, compared to the night streets and the dimly lit hall of the flat. My pupils constricted and my eyes half-closed when we entered. Camille, on the other hand, didn't look affected at all, and she immediately bent down to check the oven. She stood up and faced me. Her eyes didn't question me. They didn't have to. The reason of my being there was glaringly apparent.

"Take a seat." she said, in her always too shrill voice.

We sat down at the white kitchen table, in front of each other, and we waited there silently for about ten minutes. Camille looked at the oven every minute, as if the brownies were what mattered to her most at a time like that. The remaining seconds of the minute, she played with her shiny black curls. I would have fidgeted in the same way if I didn't have my tresses in a high bun. My face was so tense that I would have sworn I was going to have contractions. I could practically bite my cheeks without actually moving them. The bright lights flickered and the clock ticked in the background, creating even more tension between us. It was almost midnight. I sighed continuously. Camille didn't make a sound. When she got up to get the brownies out of the oven, the relaxed vibe that evaporated from her whole self finished to get me on my nerves.

"Camille, you know exactly why I am here. Please don't play dumb."

She turned to me, still on her knees, with the tray of brownies between her hands. It was definitely a scene worthy of a place in the theatre of the absurd. This time, her gaze did show some surprise.

"Tessa... I didn't expect you to get right to the point immediately..."

I stood up. I had to move.

"I don't actually have time to wait, Camille. I am caught... in the middle of... madness... and I don't know which direction to walk in, or who to turn to... because... because..." I sat down again, and breathed deeply, to keep tears from flowing like a cascade. "Because my companion in this whole... lunacy disappeared without any warning."

It felt like I had had to explain that obvious situation to too many people that already knew about it. Camille didn't stop looking at me through my breakout. Her eyes showed that she felt pitiful for me. I didn't want that. I wanted information. But those eyes made me think that she did have some, but considered it would hurt me even more.

"Luke was here after coming back from New York." she spilled, and she stood up to put the tray on the table.

I stood up again and sought for the most appropriate starting point question in my head. Camille's words had blocked me. Luke went back to his house after New York? Why didn't I go there in the first place?

"Did he tell you about what happened there?"

"Yes." she said, in a very low voice, as if it was very difficult for her to admit that to me. "I think... he kind of predicted it would happen, before it actually did. He called me the day before the conference and asked me to prepare a bag for him. He just said he was going away for some time after New York. I asked him where he was going, but he said I should trust him. I asked him if he was going with you, and he said no."

That last "no" stabbed my already bleeding heart with no mercy. I fell flat on the chair. I held on to the table to keep myself from losing balance.

"Camille... Most of my friends think Luke was the one to hand my report to Fleming&Florey. Do you think that's possible?"

She sighed deeply and started to braid her hair. She lived with him, she had even more insight to him than I had. She had to know the odds.

"No." she said, convinced, shaking her head to reinforce her answer.

My heart skipped a beat and finally resumed to its normal rhythm again. He hadn't done it. He hadn't. My mind flooded with my last memories of him. The buzz of his kisses at Locanda Verde. Waking up merged with his body. Naked, on top of him, at the floor of the hotel room. He would have made love to me right there for the last time if Professor Abbey hadn't knocked on the door. For the last time.

When relaxation started to take over my body, an incontrollable yawn made my eyes close.

"You should rest." Camille advised me, and she put her hand over mine supportively.

"The brownies are getting cold." I said, not knowing what to respond. I didn't want to sleep, just in case reality got worse in my absence.

We took one each, and I started munching it. I wasn't hungry at all, and I could tell Camille wasn't either. The chocolate stuck in my palate and it didn't even feel good. It just felt more and more sticky.

"And what are you planning to do now? I figure you must be going crazy." she said.

"I am. Especially about... Luke having left. If he hasn't betrayed me, why do you think he run away? Africa thinks it is too much of a coincidence that the brand Luke works for is the one that stole my idea. I try not to think about it, but I think she's kind of right in that aspect."

The thought of Africa made me shiver. I hated having fought with her. Camille shrugged and took another brownie.

"Maybe someone is threatening him, and he didn't want to drag you with him into anything dangerous."

I nodded, convinced.

"Yes. That completely makes sense." I agreed. I wanted it to make sense. "Maybe someone at Fleming&Florey overheard something about my discovery, and pushed him to give it to them..."

"But he wouldn't do that either. That would still be betraying you, even if it was because he was trapped."

"We have to find him. Didn't he give you a clue, something that could indicate where he went?"

"Unluckily, he didn't. Whatever he planned to do, he didn't think either of us could help, Tessa. I think we have to accept that. He'll come back when he's ready."

"I can't wait any longer." I said, and I got up again. "I need to know that he didn't do it, and that... he loves me... from his mouth."

Camille supported her head with her skinny arms and trembled.

"Are you okay?" I asked, and I instinctively put my two middle fingers on her wrist to check her pulse.

She was fine. But she looked like she was going to faint any minute. I fixed my eyes on hers.

"I am, Tessa. I am. Don't worry. It's just that... this whole thing has affected me a lot as well. I haven't been sleeping great exactly."

I nodded, worried.

"You're right. We should rest."

We got up and looked at each other, not knowing what to do. I couldn't help myself from hugging her. We both needed support, and she seemed to understand my grief very precisely. She carried a very heavy weight on her shoulders as well. I could tell so by the growing opaqueness of her skin. We didn't squeeze each other hard, we just stood close together with our arms around each other. It was a strange hug. It must seem cold and false from the outside, but the sympathy between us was obvious to me.

She broke the hug and invited me to sleep at Luke's bedroom. I hesitated at first, but then I rushed there and threw myself on the bed, wrapping my head between the sheets, hoping to smell once again that stunner smell that had gotten me high so many times. I inhaled deeply, like a cocaine addict worried not to waste a single milligram of the drug. In fact, I inhaled so deeply, that I forgot to exhale, and eventually burst out coughing hysterically. Coughs turned to crying when the smell finally reached the appropriate area of my cerebral cortex. I twisted and turned around in the bed again and again, desperately, looking for Luke, because he must be there. He had to be there. With me.

The tears eventually dried up. They always stopped after a while. I fixed my eyes on the wall. I noticed a postcard he had bought in New York among the posters of the eighties music groups. I jumped from the bed and took the postcard from the wall. I was afraid to turn it around. I did. I read what it said and the tears started to flow again. How did my lacrimal glands manage to recharge so quickly?

I lay back on the bed, in my corner, on the left side, because that's where I had always lain, with him on my right side. Leaving his side for him and pressing the postcard to my chest, I finally managed to relax, and the words written on it resonated in my dreams the whole night long: Tess means There's magic in your EyeS. Blueness turned out to be quite... Something.

He loved me. He hadn't betrayed me.

I imagined him whispering those words in my ear, making me shiver with his hot breath. I could feel his longing body on my back, his skillful fingers taking my locks away from my neck, to then press his lips against it and brush his tongue along my awoken skin. The tickles I felt in my fantasies were almost as real as the tears that started to pile up again in my widely opened eyes. I closed them and let the misery in those heavy piles run along my aching and confused body.

And then I had a dream. David shouted at me from the balcony of the Tate Gallery. He was shouting for help. Lucy was giving birth to a beautiful but persecuted daughter, and they were coming after them. I knew they were screaming my name, but I didn't turn around to face them. I was lying on a white, silky couch in Luke's arms, and he was whispering how much he loved me. That whisper blurred out David's scream.

I woke up early, determined to find Luke. The dim light from the street trespassed the beautifully peaceful white curtains and conquered the room, making it look infinite, making me feel like I was floating in a spaceship with no gravity.

What if he was in trouble? What if they were really after him? In response to those thoughts, gravity came back and anxiety squeezed my lungs and strangled them with my ribs. The sun was rapidly rising and the light didn't seem white and stroking anymore. It seemed orange and threatening.

I got up. Somewhere in his room, there had to be a clue about where he had gone. It occurred to me that he might have left a secret clue for me. Something nobody could understand, something meaningless in appearance.

After searching behind every shelf and beneath every book for a couple of times, I sat down on the bed again and looked out the window. It was 5.30. The sun was starting to rise. I decided it would do me good to go for a walk around the places we used to get lost in. I reckoned Camille would still sleep for a few hours, but I wrote a note for her and left it on her bedside table.

I put my heavy red coat on and rambled to central London, still wearing the black dress, which was quite an inappropriate morning outfit. The air was freezing and cut my porcelain skin. I wrapped my naked hands with the ends of my sleeves, and hugged myself. I crossed the London Bridge looking at the sky. Even if it was cloudy, light blinded my tired out eyes. I considered going back to bed and letting things get better on their own, but I passed Covent Garden, the Royal Opera House, and my feet didn't stop until I reached Oxford Street. I found myself in front of Selfridges. It was almost 8.00. I smiled a cold smile to myself when I pictured the chocolate cake that awaited me at the food hall. I needed sugar in my system to find Luke.

I had always thought it was impossible to feel sad in the food hall at Selfridges. But the smell of Lola's cupcakes and the sight of Spanish ham didn't conquer my optimism. I walked like a robot down the stairs to the cake stand at the bakery, and ordered without even setting my mind on those thoughts. I kept staring at the white marble floor as I paid.

"Tessa?"

What did you think of this chapter? Do you like Camille? Do you think that she might be hiding something? Let me know in the comments! I am entering the Wattys2016, so, if you enjoyed it, please don't forget to vote :)

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