Hours later, after listening to all of her stories and crazy dreams…I begin to realise something. This woman beside me, with her kaleidoscopic toes and haunting voice, is the single most magical thing on the island. If I could listen to her voice every day and spend the evenings painting her toes, I could live here forever and die a happy man. Or we could go someplace else. New York, Cape Town, London…where does she need to sing from so that the whole world hears her?

I’m about to tell her this. I’m about to turn to her and kiss her…to tell her she doesn’t have to sell ice cream any more and that I’ll make her dreams come true instead. I’m about to ask her if I could spend every day for the rest of my life walking beside her on this beach, when she looks at me, smiles, and says, “I actually got a new job — singing at a restaurant.”

“Which restaurant?” I ask.

“The…Noble Nectar Restaurant. Do you know it? It’s in Cape Town. I leave next week. Finally saved enough money for the ticket!”

My heart soars, then it sinks. She’s coming to my town!

The only problem is, going home was never a part of my plan. I would have to return to work. My short stint as a fugitive is over. It’s time to switch on my phone and face reality.

***

I don’t think my polka-dotted princess knows that it takes more than the price of a plane ticket to relocate to Cape Town — especially when she’s moving to prime property like the Waterfront. Good thing she has me. I book us two first-class tickets and, 20 minutes before we land, I purchase something from the duty-free catalogue.

Once the flight attendant hands me the item, I do the second most reckless thing I’ve ever done: I pass the tiny velvet bag to Mimo. She’s surprised, peers inside, then squeals when she sees it.

“Inggih!” she says. “Inggih! Inggih!”

And when I don’t understand, she switches to English.

“Yes. Yes!”

Those who are close enough to hear us, clap their hands and the pilot later makes an announcement to everyone on board. A lovely woman named Mimo accepted a marriage proposal with a ring purchased in-flight. It’s the kind of story that will be all over social media by tomorrow. I hide my face when people try to snap pictures.

Assuming I still have a job, I don’t need my colleagues taunting me on the first day back.

***

I expect a suspension, investigation, or at least a really hard slap on the wrist when I walk back into the office after going AWOL, but nothing happens. When I return, I am welcomed home as if I’ve just waltzed in from a well-deserved island vacation — which I have.

We enter the boardroom and proceed as usual. No mention is made of the Nexa Forge or NexaLabs.

When lunch rolls around, I head to the downstairs restaurant with Mark from accounting and Vuyo, our chief technology officer. The two of us butted heads before I left; some words were said that neither of us can take back. But he thinks he can fix it with a meal. Lobster thermidor with prosecco on a Monday afternoon. I couldn’t have dreamt up a more surprising welcome home than this.

Gently, as I’m halfway through my meal, Vuyo starts talking about the brand new acquisition.

“I just want to say, on behalf of the board and all the staff…we understand why you were so opposed to Nexa,” he sighs. “What happened to your father was deeply unfortunate, but with advanced cell technologies like this, there’ll always be risks. But I think the benefits outweigh those risks.”

“Maybe it’s improved,” I say. “But no long-term studies have been done. It’s too early to put these on the market.”

Vuyo shrugs. Mark suddenly checks his phone, then politely excuses himself before our desserts arrive. I think he sensed the conversation was about to take a turn and didn’t want to play referee to our argument.

Vuyo gives me a pointed look. “But I think you’re forgetting, Robert & Ross is, at the end of the day, a business.”

“Yes, and it’s something I don’t know if I want any more.”

It feels liberating to say it. I have enough money now. Imagine a life with me and Mimo.

“But so much rests on you. There’s no way you can leave in the next five years, you know that.” I feel guilty – I am the middle of a web and without me quite a few strands will collapse. But I can’t be held responsible forever, can I?

I’m surprised that Vuyo just smiles and asks me want I want for dessert.

It arrives in tall glasses — just plain chocolate and ice cream topped with a single cherry. This was once my favourite treat but it tastes painfully ordinary after ice cream beneath the coconut palms from Mimo’s stall.

Vuyo watches me stir the ice cream. He eyes me suspiciously.

“Don’t you like ice cream?” he asks.

“I do,” I say. “Just not this kind.”

Both my taste in women and ice cream changed the day I met Mimo. It only hit me this morning that I publicly proposed to someone who was a stranger to me little over a week ago. That’s one conversation with my mother I would pay good money to avoid. But I still have no regrets besides ordering this ice cream.

Tell us: Why do you think the narrator has had such an easy transition back into work? What do you think will happen next?