He would feel it later, no doubt—the sudden collapse of the dream that had dominated his life. For now, though, he was possessed with the other thing he had to do. The harder thing, by far.
“I’ll tell Ma I spoke to you,” Ket Hau said. “She’ll probably want to talk to you in the morning. Most likely it’ll be around midnight your time, will you still be up?”
“Yes. No. It doesn’t matter,” said Ket Siong, hardly knowing what he was saying. “Ma can call whenever. Ko, I have to go.”
He looked down at the collection of bags at his feet. Throughthe opening of a tote bag, he glimpsed the cream wool of the jumper he’d taken out of Renee’s wardrobe. It felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach.
“I’m late,” he said.
His voice sounded funny to him, but his brother didn’t seem to notice.
“You go,” said Ket Hau. “Siong, you’ll know this, but you can’t tell anybody about this mess. It’s sickening having to keep these bastards’ secrets, but if anybody finds out, Ma will be in even worse trouble.”
“I know,” said Ket Siong.
Ket Siong thought—half feared, half hoped—that what he’d learnt about Renee’s father might somehow bleed into how he felt about her. That the anger and revulsion rising in his throat when he thought about how Ma had been treated might make it easier to do what he had to do. But then he opened the door to his room and Renee lifted her head, smiling.
She was sitting on his bed with her legs crossed, fully clothed, with one of his books—a text on Renaissance music—propped open in her lap. Ket Siong knew then that it didn’t matter who her father was and never would.
To him. But his feelings weren’t important.
Renee wasn’t responsible for anything her father had done. She wouldn’t know anything about it. But she was her father’s daughter, as strained and thorny as that relationship was. Ket Siong was his mother’s son. That was all there was to it.
“You took your time,” said Renee, but she wasn’t mad. Her eyes were mischievous, as if she knew how desperate he’d been to get back to her.
Up till now, Ket Siong had been preoccupied with how bad this was making him feel. For the first time, it came home to him how much it was going to hurt Renee—and that was going to be the worst part, the part that would stay with him for the rest of his life.
Ket Siong put down the stuff he was carrying, bending to unknot the takeaway bag. He’d give Renee her dinner and her things and send her away. He’d say something had come up. A last-minute deadline, or…
“What did you get?” said Renee. She was standing right by him.
When he straightened up, she raised her face as if for a kiss, the movement as natural and instinctive as that of a plant turning towards the sun. She checked herself, blushing.
Ket Siong’s heart felt dead in his chest, but at this it gave an anguished thump.
Renee was smiling—shy, but wrenchingly sure of him. He saw her arrive at a decision. She reached up, but Ket Siong dodged before she could take her kiss.
He found his dinner and drink, extracted them from the plastic bag and set them on his desk. He held the takeaway bag with Renee’s portion in it out to her. She took it from him.
The light had gone out of her face. He couldn’t look at her.
“I got your keys from the concierge,” said Ket Siong. “And your shoes.” He nodded at the takeaway bag. “I ordered you the lemongrass pork. You can take it home.”
“Ket Siong,” said Renee. “What’s wrong?”
There would be no giving of excuses, no letting her down gently.
“It was a mistake,” said Ket Siong. “Earlier. We shouldn’t have… I think it’s better if you go home.”
“I don’t understand.” Renee looked bewildered. “Did something happen?”
“I have to go back,” Ket Siong blurted. “This summer.”
“To Malaysia? What about your studies?”
Ket Siong didn’t answer, busying himself with the bags containing Renee’s stuff. When Renee said, “Did something happen with your family?” he only nodded.
He pulled her trainers out and laid them on the floor.
