He was late.
Riza had spent weeks reorganising her schedule for this meeting, and she wasn't even sure what it was for. They had arranged to meet at a restaurant outside Central. He had even reminded her about it the day before. He couldn't have forgotten. She drummed her fingers on the table impatiently, her stomach twisting. The empty chair appeared to mock her, the glass opposite glinting in the sunlight.
In a way, she trusted him. She imagined him turning up, face flushed, black hair swept across his face, apologising. It was probably the train. Yes. That must be it. Trains were always late.
Ordering a glass of water, she checked her reflection in the full wall window next to the table. Then she focused through the window, frowning slightly. Her blood ran cold, then suddenly bubbled over like a hot pan on the boil.
It wasn't Roy's hands she looked at first, holding this new girl tightly around the waist. It wasn't Roy's hair, tousled from the other girl's caressing fingers. It was his lips, the lips she had imagined so often on hers, locked tightly with the other girl's in what seemed like a neverending battle.
The waiter brought her glass to the table. She picked it up, then dropped it, where it fell forever through the air, then smashed immediately on the floor.
Roy broke free just in time to see Riza storm towards him, and remembered what day it was. He couldn't believe he had forgotten her birthday meeting. It must have slipped his mind.