"It wasn't particularly clear what it was that made you unsatisfied. I always showed my regret and indicated that I would always return," he said. I was too astonished to response immediately.

"You cheated me and tried to make it up with bribes," I said still incredulous; could he actually mean his words? I knew though that Adrian was practically incapable of making a joke.

"If I had stayed it would have meant that I was okay with that. And that would have led to years and years of you cheating and me overlooking it. Just for the record, that is not how a marriage works."

A minimal smirk had appeared to Adrian's lips. It didn't catch the eyes, but it wasn't a happy smile anyway. He knew I was serious; he also knew my words were true. A flash of alternate future came to me; middle-aged me sitting in an empty living room, waiting for Adrian to come home from his date.

"And you're sure that would have been the case? And that the future with your charming fiancée will be completely different?" Adrian asked. For a while he succeeded to distract me; paranoia overpowered me and I started to flick through memories feverishly; how often had Will come home later than usual? When had he been "out with the boys"? Then I shook those thoughts away – only Adrian could do this to me, and he probably knew it.

"Yes," I answered firmly, hoping that it would cover my moment of hesitation. It didn't, but I decided not to care. I suddenly knew that after walking through that thick wood-panelled door I would never speak to Adrian Veidt again, so what I said didn't really matter.

Adrian hemmed a little and took a final sip of his whiskey. He didn't rise to get more. Then, after a brief pause, he succeeded to surprise me once again.

"I apologize if I made you unhappy, as I surely did. I hope things had gone differently, and that we could have parted as… well, if not friends, then at least acquaintances."

I couldn't do anything but blink. Was Adrian truly sorry? Was this yet another move in his weird chess game of life? Was this an effort to make me change my mind and fall for him again? Seeing his face from so small distance made me realise something: he was handsome as always, but if the current me had met Adrian in 1973, it would have been more of an unpleasant experience than overwhelming. His eyes seemed to be colder than ever, his mouth curved to an expression of eternal contempt, his hands pressed to intimidating half-fists.

Maybe it was a real feeling, maybe only a wish, maybe a result of skilful manipulation – but I felt that Adrian was serious. For a while I fought an inner battle with my dark side; then the nicer side won and I got my lips to form an answer.

"Me too."

I was tempted to say something sarcastic or mean, but then I realised I didn't want to. Whatever his motives to say his words were, they were a sort of salve for the old wounds. I still couldn't completely forgive him, and he probably knew it too. But it was true that I was sorry too – if I could change past, I would have handled the break-up a little better. Maybe the whole relationship would have needed some restoration.

"But surely there is someone else already? I'm not the only option in the world," I continued, not really interested, but wanting to be polite. Somehow it also felt like a duty, as if it was my responsibility to make sure he had someone to comfort him.

"Not at the moment, no," he answered, looking at me with those steel-like eyes. A moment of dull silence, then:

"You were supposed to be mine," he said more to himself, looking past me. I felt that the conversation was going somewhere I might not want it to go. Luckily he didn't say anything more, but stared at the emptiness as if I wasn't in the room anymore.

Finally I couldn't take it anymore. I got up to leave. Adrian seemed to awaken from his trance and hoisted himself as well.

"I won't come back, Adrian," I said quietly, because I was pretty sure that was the reason he wanted to speak with me. I hesitated for a moment, thinking what else there was to say, but decided it was better to be quiet.

But Adrian took a step closer and for some reason looked bemused.

"Oh, Alex," he said softly, as if to a child. He swept my bare arm with his fingertips so absent-mindedly that it was hard to say was the gesture even cognisant. But when remembering this was Adrian, it probably was well considered and planned.

He moved towards the bar cabinet and I sensed that the conversation wasn't over yet. The bottle tinged feebly when it touched his whiskey glass. Then he turned to me again, smiling ominously.

"Did you honestly think I was going to beg you to come back? That I was somehow dependent on you?" He watched me, waiting for the signs of embarrassment. I only raised another eyebrow and looked back at him. That could easily have been an option.

Adrian swiped the smile off his face and took a sip of his drink. He leaned to the small bar counter looking as relaxed as he had looked in the armchair. I knew, however, that he was on constant standby. If I had decided to run away from the room, he would have stopped me after the first step, yet I didn't feel myself threatened.

"Well, what's the occasion then?" I asked, getting a little impatient. I thought of Will and how he could go home at any moment. If he saw I wasn't there, he would get upset and worried. As always, Adrian wanted to make an impression and create a sense of mystery around him.

"Are your parents alright?" he asked, jolting the whiskey in the glass, creating a little storm of his own. Adrian had liked my parents and sister.

"Dad is dead and Mom moved to Florida with Georgiana's family," I answered plainly. He just nodded, not giving away why he had wanted to know. Then he dropped the bomb; almost literally.

"I'd like to ask you – and your fiancée of course – to move away from New York for a while," he said, as if he was talking about the weather. My eyebrows were reaching for the hairline.

"And why is that?" I inquired. This was definitely the strangest thing he, or anyone else for that matter, had ever asked me.

"Just trust me," he said, sounding firmer now. "It has come to my knowledge that something crucial is about to happen at any minute now. Can you promise you will leave town?"

I blinked. Adrian seemed to be serious, and not because he wanted to test how well I could be ordered, but he meant it. He really believed what he said, that something was about to happen, and he wanted me and even Will to get away from it.

"But… how do we know for how long?" A stupid thing to ask for first question, but I had no choice but to believe him.

"Oh, believe me, you'll know," he said grimly.

"I… will try," I said faintly and took a cautious step towards the door and him. When he didn't stop me, I moved a little more confidently. But when I was beside him, he suddenly spoke again.

"Do you know what Nostalgia is?" he asked. I wasn't quite sure what he meant; of course I knew it was his widely-advertised fragrance, but as this was Adrian it might as well have been a trick question of some sort.

He didn't wait for my answer.

"It's the scent of you that lingered in the dressing room, in the sheets, in the kitchen…" he said leisurely, forming the words so softly that it brought his old accent out surprisingly clearly. To some other woman that might have sounded creepy, but to me, knowing Adrian better than anyone else in the world – even though that wasn't much – it was a sign of respect.

I touched his elbow, as he had done to me. That was something he hadn't expected, and it made his expression change into rare amazement.

"Alles gut, Adrian," I whispered. For a moment we just stood there in the empty, stolid lounge in the scent of whiskey. His eyes were attached to my hand on his arm; my eyes examined his tired, stationary face. Then he looked straight into my eyes and said:

"Ebenfalls."

I let go and walked back to the elevator. I don't know how long he stayed there. In my imagination he is stuck there forever, leaning to the bar counter, looking blankly at the dark windows.

A couple of months later, Will and I were having our quick honeymoon getaway in Hawaii when we read in the newspapers about the sudden destruction of New York.

"Who would have thought? Thank God we came here, I mean…" Will wasn't able to finish his sentence, looking pale despite his healthy tan.

I was shocked as any other, but I never let anyone else know that I knew who had been responsible for millions of lives lost. I hadn't told Will about the conversation between Adrian and me, so the exact reason for my outrage didn't occur to Will; he couldn't make the connection between the encounter at the fundraiser, my sudden urge to get married in a distant location and a long holiday afterwards.

I stared at the ocean ahead and sipped my overly sweetened drink. Where was Adrian now? I didn't even know if I wanted him to be dead or not; if he was alive, did I want him to be caught and forced to take responsibility of his actions? An urge to call him and oddly enough to comfort him over took me. I shook my head and took a deep breath. It was now over, for good, whatever there had been between Adrian and me. If it was up to me, I could stay on this island for the rest of my life, without hearing of Adrian Veidt never again.

I got up and covered a hole in the sand I had dug with my toes unconsciously. As if it was symbolic somehow.