YOURI’S GENTLE PRESENCE, HIS THOUGHTFULNESS, THE very few faithful friends I’d grown apart from over the previous two years with whom I was timidly reviving our friendship, and the longing to dance and laugh with people my own age began to supplant G.’s hold over me. Our emotional bond was coming loose, and the jungle in the depraved kingdom was opening up to a different world where, against all the odds, the sun shone and was just waiting for me to show up for the party to begin. G. went away for a month. He needed to make some progress with his new book. In Manila, there would be no distractions, he swore to me disingenuously. Every day Youri tried to persuade me to leave G., but it was impossible to confront him before he left. What was I afraid of? I vowed to take advantage of his absence by writing to him. Our love affair would end as it had begun: by letter. Deep down inside, I was sure that he was expecting our breakup. That he wanted it, even. A strategist beyond compare, I reminded myself.

But, as things turned out, it was quite the opposite. After he returned from the Philippines, he wrote to tell me how devastated he had been by my letter. He didn’t understand. I still loved him: every single word I wrote betrayed my real feelings. How could I draw a line under our love affair, the most beautiful, the purest love story that had ever been? He pestered me by phone, in letters, began following me down the street again. He was outraged by my decision to leave him. The only person he loved was me. There was no other girl in his life. As for the Philippines, he swore blind he had behaved with irreproachable chastity. But that wasn’t the problem now. I didn’t care about him and his escapades anymore. It was my redemption I was seeking, not his.

When I told my mother I had left G., she was momentarily struck dumb, then she said, sadly, “Poor thing, are you sure? He adores you!”