My hesitance about moving in with Priscilla turns out to be unfounded. I've always been wary of moving in with acquaintances I'm not that close to – we don't know each other that well, and I usually prefer to have my own space. But Priscilla, for all of her enthusiasm, turns out to be good with boundaries.

There is only one bedroom, but she has dug out an extra mattress for me. I help her carry it in from the balcony where it's been put out for airing, and together we lay it down in the corner of the room. I cough and turn away as the dust from the mattress rises into the air when we drop it onto the floor.

"I hope it's not too dusty," Priscilla says worriedly. "I've tried to clean it as much as I could. I even beat it with a clothes hanger to get the dust out."

"It's fine," I reassure her, trying not to smile at the image of her hitting the mattress with a flimsy hanger. "That's more than enough."

"I have the bedsheets all ready for you," Priscilla informs me brightly, swinging the doors to the cupboard open. "Right... here."

I take the sheets from her, turning back to the bed to put them on. Priscilla scurries over to help me with dressing the mattress.

"Too bad the others have gone," she laments, as we struggle to pull the fabric across the mattress. That's not the hard part, though. The hard part is lifting the heavy mattress to secure the elastic band of the sheet to the bottom. "Ludo would come in handy right now."

I laugh. The others had come over after class to help with the moving, but I hadn't wanted to bother them too much. After Ludo and Zuzi had shifted most of Priscilla's furniture around to make space for me and my suitcase, I had told them we could take it from here. I hadn't taken into account the sheer weight of the mattress. "Definitely."

"Maybe he hasn't gone far," she says hopefully. "We could call him back."

I laugh again, even though I'm not sure that she's not being completely serious. That is sometimes the problem with people whose habits and speech patterns you're not used to – you can't properly judge whether their words are to be taken at face value or laughed off as a joke.

"Maybe we could run down the street after him, screaming his name."

Priscilla laughs at that. "The Finnish people would probably be horrified."

"They would think we were drunk," I say.

"Finns are real introverts, aren't they?" Priscilla says. "Sometimes I run into my neighbours in the lift and try to say hi, but they always look so horrified, they make me feel awkward."

Even before she's done speaking, I'm already nodding in agreement. I know exactly what she means, because Aksel has always done the same. More than once, he has arrived home slightly out of breath, after seeing one of our neighbours waiting for the lift and deciding to take the stairs instead of being trapped in close quarters with them.

But I don't tell this story, because I don't know if I can keep a straight face if I were to start talking about Aksel. It probably wouldn't do to start bawling my eyes out on the first night I move in with a new roommate.

Instead, I roll my eyes and let out a little snort of laughter, "Yeah. That's the Finns for you."

And then I think to myself that even I have picked up Aksel's old habit of saying 'the Finns' instead of without the article as is the norm in English for plural nouns. This reminder of Aksel sharpens my tone a little, and my words come out harsher than I mean them to.

"And Finns hate making small talk. They would cross the road to avoid their own grandmother. I don't know how they even manage to make friends at all. They probably have to get drunk to do it."

Priscilla laughs at my vehemence. But then she muses, "You can get so sarcastic about the Finnish people. If I didn't know you, I would've thought you had a thing against Finns or Finland."

I blink. I realise that my mouth is hanging open slightly, so I snap it shut. And then open it again to say, "What?"

Priscilla, perhaps sensing a change in my tone, rushes to explain. "It's not a criticism or anything. It's just that some things you say makes it sound like you don't like Finns much." She notices the look of confusion that I am aiming at her, and smiles a little. "It doesn't matter. It's just something I've noticed about you."

I don't like what I'm hearing from her. My mouth is dry as I press further. "Really? What do I say that sounds like I hate the Finns?"

"Not hate," Priscilla corrects me. "It's nothing as extreme as that. But you sometimes talk about Finns in this... mocking way, it's hard to tell if you're joking or if you really dislike them." She shrugs. "Obviously, I know that's not true. I know you mean no harm by it."

Mean no harm? But that's the kind of thing people always say about the accidentally racist micro-aggressions I have faced throughout my life in Germany.

How have I become someone that needs to be excused with this trite justification? I'm supposed to be the victim, not the perpetrator.

"I don't dislike them," I manage. Inwardly, I think back to the stereotypes that have flown out of my mouth a few minutes back and admit that I was perhaps too caught up in making fun of the well-known stereotype of Finnish introversion.

Priscilla makes a dismissive sound, blowing a rush of air out her lips. "Don't think too much about it – I didn't mean anything by it. It was just something I've noticed when you talk about Finnish stereotypes." She smiles. "And let's face it, they do have a bunch of really odd stereotypes."

I nod accommodatingly, but my mind is stuck on her observation of me. If that's the way she thinks, after only knowing me for a short amount of time...

How had Aksel felt?

***

I push open the door to the café, looking around as I step in, blinking quickly as my eyes adjust to the dim yellow light indoors. I wonder if Elina has already arrived – according to her text, we are meeting at two in the afternoon for our first revision session. I am five minutes early.

As my gaze flits around the café interior, I see a figure in the back booth rise to her feet to wave in my direction. She's already here.

Making my way to the back of the store, I shrug off my backpack with a sheepish smile. "Sorry I'm late."

Elina waves dismissively. "Don't worry, you're not late. I'm early."

I slide into the booth across from her, noting the absence of any drinks on the table. "Have you ordered anything yet?"

"I haven't had the time yet," she says, "I just got here."

"Do you know what you want already? I'll buy for both of us." I'm standing up now, wallet in hand. She looks startled. I don't know if she's about to argue, so I add, "The terms we agreed on were that I don't tell anyone, and that I buy you coffee, right?"

Elina laughs. "I wasn't completely serious about the coffee, you know."

"It's the least I could do." She's taking the time out to help me with my learning, after all. A cup of coffee is nothing compared to the huge favour she's doing me.

Elina shrugs in acquiescence. "I'll have a normal coffee, black," she says.

"Okay, I'll be right back."

Scooting myself out of the booth, I head for the counter near the store entrance. There is a short queue, so I join at the back of it and proceed to squint at the menu from afar. If worse comes to worst and I don't have the time to look through it, I tell myself, I will just order the English Breakfast tea. It's always a safe bet, since every café is bound to serve it.

"Emi?"

At the sound of my name, I instinctively turn in search of the source. It takes me a moment to place the familiar face, and then my breath skips a bit.

"Lumi," I say. "Ah... Hi."

"You're still here," Lumi sounds surprised, and then embarrassed as she raises a hand to cover my mouth. "Sorry, I just meant... I wasn't expecting to see you here."

I clear my throat in hopes of clearing away the niggling annoyance that has sprouted up there. "I wasn't expecting to see you, either." I try to laugh. Elina chose the café, but it's also not one I've been to. I had no idea Lumi might be one of its patrons as well.

"I thought... Sorry, it's because Aksel said..." She's at the most unguarded I've seen her, running her mouth and looking flustered. She's sincere in her surprise.

"What did he say?" I ask, even though just the sound of the name has made my tongue feel like sandpaper. He must have gotten back to the apartment and thought I had left for Hamburg like he wanted.

Lumi shrugs now, her awkwardness palpable. "Not much, except that you decided to go home to Hamburg."

The flare of annoyance that shoots through me this time leaves a burning sensation. "Well, I didn't." I wave my hands to gesture to the café. "As you can see."

"Yeah." Lumi says, looking around as if it can help her understand me better. "That's why I was surprised to see you." She clears her throat and looks back at me, "How are you now? Are you living somewhere else?"

I don't know why she is still talking to me. She must know, from Aksel, that we are no longer together. She doesn't have to be polite or interact with me ever again.

"Yeah," I say, even though I don't want to tell her anything that might get back to Aksel. "I moved in with a friend."

"Oh." Lumi still looks surprised. I wonder nastily if it's because she's surprised to hear that I do have friends in Helsinki, but then she smiles. "That's good to hear."

"Yeah." At a loss for words now, I turn to look pointedly at the front of the queue. There are still quite a few people in the line before my turn.

I wish Lumi would go away.

She doesn't, though, and continues standing beside me until I reluctantly turn back to her, so as to not seem too impolite. When, really, all I want is to ignore her until she leaves.

Now that I'm no longer in Aksel's life – and as a result, hers – she doesn't need to deal with me anymore. Why is she still bothering to talk to me?

Is she going to report everything we say back to Aksel?

Or – worse – is she going to use it to her own advantage?

Lumi looks like she's thinking about whether to say something. Finally, when she makes up her mind, it turns out to be, "I don't think Aksel is happy."

I barely refrain from flinching at the sound of his name again. I shrug, because there's nothing I can say to that.

He was the one who wanted me gone. I wonder if he's told his friends that. Or maybe they think I'm the one who left him.

When I don't respond, Lumi tries again. "Things are hard for him, too, you know."

So his friends do think of me as the villain in this break-up, then. How typical. The rekindled flare of anger burning in me pushes the next words out of my mouth.

"Isn't that a good thing for you, then?" I find myself saying, before I can censor my runaway tongue.

Lumi blinks. She looks suddenly frozen.

In for a penny, in for a pound. I go on, "I know you have feelings for him."

From the look on her face, I've shocked her with my candidness. And then, just as quickly, a shield of ice falls over her expression.

"It was obvious," I say, when she doesn't confirm or deny it. "That day when I ran into you in the city centre."

She doesn't react, so I clarify, "At the café. You were doing work."

"I remember," she says finally, quietly. She pauses, studying my face. Then she says, "Yes, I used to feel something for him. But that was a long time ago. I've been over it for a long time."

I stare back at her, letting the disbelief show on my face.

She shrugs, a shoulder lifting and falling elegantly. She looks good doing even the simplest of things, I notice. "I can't help it if you won't believe me."

"Now that I'm out of the picture," I say, "maybe you'll have a chance."

By the wooden look on her face, I can tell I've hit a sore spot. Finally, she'll go away now.

Lumi begins to leave, then hesitates. She turns back to look at me. "I liked you, Emi," she says, then smiles as she sees my incredulous stare. "No, really. I did. But now..." Her brow furrows. "You're not being very nice."

I feel oddly maligned. "I didn't mean anything by it," I say, perhaps a little more defensively than I intend to. It's unfair that I get slotted into the role of the villainous ex without meaning to. "I was just saying, it's possible."

Lumi shrugs. She's turning away again, ready to leave the conversation for real this time. "That is unnecessary. I was never waiting for something with him. I was happy for him when you moved here."

The pang of guilt hits me harder than I'd expected. She's right. She has been the nicest to me out of everyone. I shouldn't have been nasty to her.

"Lumi," I say, before I can bite the words back. She stops, and I swallow. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

She stays standing, back-facing me for a long beat, before she turns back again. "Emi," she says, "if there's something you want to say to Aksel, tell it to him yourself. I don't want to be caught between the two of you. Your relationship is not any of my business."

She seems to have made it her business, though, coming up to me and telling me that Aksel is having a hard time. But I don't say anything.

Finally, she leaves, and it's my turn to order. I turn to the barista, stammering out the words I've rehearsed beforehand. But as I'm ordering, Priscilla's words from the previous night float back into my mind.

You don't mean any harm by it.

I had hurt Lumi. I could see it in the way her expression had shuttered so abruptly, when she has only been warm to me before. There is a niggling feeling tickling the back of my throat – because I don't know if I had meant to do harm or if it had been just a byproduct of my own callousness.

By the time I make it back to the table, Elina is tapping away on her phone. She must have been busy on her phone the whole time – maybe she didn't see my conversation with Lumi.

I place the mugs on the table and slide into the booth, the noises alerting her of my return.

She looks up, and the phone goes back into her bag. "Thank you," she says earnestly, reaching for the coffee.

I laugh at her eagerness. "A big fan of coffee?"

"Oh, yes," she agrees, lifting it by its white porcelain handle to take a long sniff. "I love coffee."

I smile, and lift my mug of tea to my lips.

Elina takes a long drink out of her mug, then places it back onto the coaster. "Okay. So, Emi – what do you want to start with?"

"The beginning. I need to start from the very beginning."

I smile, but my lips feel like they're trembling slightly. I'm still feeling a little jittery from seeing Lumi. I wonder if she's already contacted Aksel to tell him about it. Then I shake my head – I don't want to think about that.

I don't want to think about him.

Elina taps lightly, twice, on my open textbook. "Focus, Emi." Her voice is sharp.

"Sorry," comes out of my mouth out of habit, before the real guilt sets in. She's right. I need to pay attention – she's taking time out to help me with my revision. I can't afford to screw this up anymore.

I clear my throat and sit up straighter. "I'm sorry," I repeated, sincerely this time. "I'm listening."

"Good," Elina says, then shifts her finger to point at the first sentence on the page. "Now look, Finnish is a very precise language. That's why it has fifteen cases. The trick is to figure out the purpose of each term in the sentence..."