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I look to see a small line has formed during my ogling. A few of the people send glares our way. I quickly blink away my tears and sidestep to make room for them.
“So,” Sarfaraz starts as we walk down the street, “did you have a place in mind you wanted to go?”
“I do,” I admit. “But is there anywhere you wanted to go?”
“Nope,” he says. For the first time in like forty-five minutes, he looks at me. “I had no plans of leaving the hotel room. I’m following your lead.”
“That easy? So, you’ll go where I want to go?”
“I’ll follow you wherever,” Sarfaraz confirms.
I pause at his phrasing. I don’t think he’s seemed to notice exactly what he’s said, either; he moves his head this way and that, drinking in the scenery around us. I shrug it off. It’s just a way of phrasing things. I reach into my backpack and produce the brochure I took from the Zurich hotel. “I want to go to the panorama bridge,” I announce. I open the pamphlet and hold it out so he can see it.
He peers at the page, then shakes his head. “I take it back. I’m not gonna follow you wherever.”
I pout, lowering the brochure. “Come on! You said yourself you have nothing else you want to do. Trust me on this.”
Sarfaraz hesitates, and I take the opportunity to say solemnly, “I’m getting married. You might not know, but desi households are very specific on how they want their daughters-in-law to act.” I sigh wistfully, pouting some more. “This might be the last shred of freedom I get before I have to be the perfect bahu.”
I expect him to roll his eyes at me, to say I’m being dramatic, or even for him to ignore me completely and continue down the street, but his expression softens. I hold my pleading look, and he says, “Oh, trust me, I know how constraining desi households can be.”
This time, I knit my brows together. “What do you mean?”
“I’m half-Pakistani, remember?” Sarfaraz says, then he shakes his head. “Never mind.” He gestures to the brochure. “How does the pamphlet say we get to the panorama bridge?”
The pamphlet directs us to Grabenmühle. On the way up, we’re mostly silent. I’d rather conserve my energy; seriously, this path feels like it’s never going to end. In the show, Ri Jeong-hyeok and Yoon Se-ri never mentioned how freaking long the journey is.
Finally, we reach the bridge. A few people loiter around the end, while some people pose for photos in the middle. It’s a long, narrow path, and the bridge looks like it stretches on forever. Tall metal boards with small holes pattern the sides of the bridge, and just about reach my chest in height. Greenery surrounds the area, from giant leafy trees along the bottom to the landscape on the other side of the bridge. A few houses peek through the trees. I wonder if the people who live there marvel at the beautiful place they live, or if they’re used to it. I don’t think I’d ever get used to living in a place that looks like it came straight from the concept art of a Studio Ghibli film.
At this point, I’m bursting with excitement. This is where the show was filmed! The actors stood on this bridge. This is where Yoon Se-ri and Ri Jeong-hyeok interacted for the first time as complete strangers, with no idea how much they’d eventually come to mean to each other.
My smile nearly splits my face in half as I step onto the bridge. I test the bottom for stability, and once I’m positive it won’t bend under my feet, I continue. The height itself doesn’t frighten me; in fact, the distance between the bridge and the ground sends a thrill through my stomach. Being so high up, enjoying the breeze you’d only get at this altitude, with a backdrop of vast streams and looming mountains, outweighs any fear in the pit of my stomach.
I’m about a quarter of the way down when I realize I don’t hear the clomping of Sarfaraz’s shoes behind me. I stop and check to see he’s still at the end. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his hands rest on the sides of the bridge, but he can’t seem to move his feet forward.
I walk back to Sarfaraz, stopping in front of him. I stay on the bridge, though. A sheen of sweat lines his forehead. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he says gruffly, keeping his eyes closed. “Everything’s fine.”
I give him a once-over. “But you’re just standing there.”
His eyes crack open. “I’m fine,” he insists. “I’m...uneasy when it comes to heights.”
My face relaxes. Of course he’s afraid of heights. He doesn’t like flying, and he wasn’t thrilled when I suggested coming to the panorama bridge. Actually, now that I think about it, his behavior before the flight makes a lot more sense now. His short, curt responses, his restlessness before takeoff, the way he squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to see the plane flying into the sky. It was so obvious I feel pretty dumb for not putting the two pieces together earlier. “Is this why you didn’t want to come here?” I wonder. I dip my chin so he’s forced to look at me. “Why did you say yes, then?”
“You wanted to come so badly.” He swallows thickly. “You were dealt the short end of the stick, and then you were sick yesterday, and I felt bad about how I’ve been acting since we met, so I...” His grip tightens around the sides of the bridge.
Something sweet touches my chest, spreading through the rest of my body and leaving me pleasantly buzzed. “That’s really kind of you.”
“Yeah, well...” Sarfaraz grumbles, trailing off.
I scan the length of the bridge, then look back to him. “You can stay here. I’ll go and take pictures by myself.”
“No, wait. Give me a minute to work up to it.”
I step forward. Gently, I pry his fingers off the bridge. As he opens his mouth to protest, I move them onto my shoulder and offer an encouraging look. “I’ve got you,” I assure him. “Just lean on me.”
He sucks in a shuddery breath, but he takes one step forward. Encouraged, I continue onto the bridge, and he follows me. His fingers clench around my shoulder with every step, but he continues to walk. He keeps his eyes trained on me, not straying to the side for a second.
