A week had passed in a strange, quiet blur, days folding into each other, nights ending in Mateo's arms or mine, and the secret weight of Berlin still sitting heavy in my chest like a stone I couldn't quite swallow.

I stood in front of the mirror in my apartment, already dressed for work; simple black trousers, soft white blouse, hair loose around my shoulders while I popped my contraceptive pill from the packet and swallowed it dry.

With the way things had been going, I'd rather suffer the mood swings and side effects than get pregnant for Mateo. Not that I wouldn't want to cry his child. Heaven knows...