He was quick to support me, asking nervously, "Helen, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell? Should I carry you?"
There was still some distance to the volcano. Swallowing the nausea that surged up, I shook my head and said, "The path is rough, don't carry me."
He reached out to hold my hand, but I quickened my pace and walked ahead to a spot closer to the volcano.
At the moment when the magma erupted, it felt as though my heart resonated with the planet. As the scorching heat enveloped me, the sour pain in my heart seemed to evaporate.
Amid the roaring sounds, I thought I heard someone shouting my name. At some point, Nick had come to my side. He held me tightly, leaning in as if to kiss me.
I dodged and he asked, hurt, "Why did you avoid me? Didn't you want a photo in front of the volcano?" He remembered my joking remark about kissing in front of a volcano.
At the time, I had just finished watching a movie and was struck by how the protagonists' love was as pure and intense as magma. He had kissed me then, saying with a smile, "Just like us."
But he hadn't remembered what I said after, "If love isn't pure, then it has no reason to exist."