Prologue: Trauma and growth
Joe Frost
She called it PTSD.
I guess I’d heard of it before but those letters in that order weren’t on my radar in the early months of 2006.
It was late in the Australian Summer, following the October bombing, that I realised I wasn’t dealing with things well.
I picked up the phone and called Mum, explained there was no need to be concerned but I needed help.
Mum made a few calls and a month or so later I was in North Sydney seeing a psychologist.
This woman had treated people who had been in the 2002 Bali Bombing. She opened our first session saying, “I’ve been wondering when I was going to see you.”
It was great. In the first few minutes, she’d touched on all the things I was worried about: my sleep, my risk-taking behaviours, my drinking.
That stuff is common for a lot of 20-year-old Aussies. I was making plenty of the same mistakes as my mates - often in tandem.
But this was more than growing up. I didn't like the choices I was making. Who I was becoming.
We talked about a lot of things over our sessions, including post-traumatic stress disorder.
According to the Mayo Clinic, PTSD is “caused by an extremely stressful or terrifying event — either being part of it or witnessing it. Symptoms may include flashbacks, nightmares, severe anxiety and uncontrollable thoughts about the event.”
It wasn’t perfect, but it was a summary that I felt wrapped up a lot of what was going on.
But knowing what it is isn’t the same as being on top of it.
I worked at a bar in town, at the old Customs House building on Newcastle Harbour. On New Year’s Eve, as the fireworks began, I looked up, felt a little tense, but got on with things.
I turned my back as a particularly large one went off. Bang.
I dropped to the floor. Mid-shift. On the busiest night of the year.
In the small hours of a different night, I woke up on my mattress-on-the-floor bed, a half-drunk beer spilled next to a candle burning. I learnt from that mistake, didn’t light any more candles, but the half-drunk beers remained a feature.
When the Socceroos played Croatia in the 2006 World Cup, there was a crowd of thousands watching on the big screen at Wheeler Place, next to Newcastle’s City Hall, as Harry Kewell scored a 79th minute goal to take us to the finals.
I left before halftime. Too many people. Too many backpacks.
Of course, the other side of the PTSD coin is PTG – post-traumatic growth. In short, it’s the idea that trauma can also provide new understanding – about the world, about yourself, about how you want to live your life.
It took time – any growth that’s worthwhile does. I had to learn to help myself. And lot of people were very patient with me.
I won't preach about ‘doing the work’. I’ll just say that talking about it helped. For me, talking about things always helps. And I have great family and friends who are generous in lending a sympathetic ear.
But some junk is worth taking to the tip.
Finding the right professional to speak to – someone you click with – can take time, but in my experience it’s been well worth it.
Last New Year’s, my family and I had a picnic with good friends on the Harbour, in front of the old Custom’s House building.
There were thousands of people and from all over the world. Everyone brought picnics so it was littered with backpacks.
We stayed late, ate well, drank soft drinks, chatted to people, had an awesome night.
The 9 o’clock fireworks began and my daughter said to me, “I don’t like it Daddy.”
I crouched down to her.
“Nah. Me neither.”
Act 1: 20 murdered, 4 trials... how many years in prison?
Joe Frost
A previous episode detailed how Dr Azhari Husin was finally brought down, killed by Indonesian police during a violent standoff in November 2005.
As to how the police had managed to find Azhari – holed up in a safehouse in rural Java – he had been given up by a member of his network, named Mohammad Cholily.
One arrest led to another, led to another. And by May of 2006, four men were put on trial in Bali for the 1 October 2005 attacks, which had seen 20 people brutally murdered and over 100 others wounded.
The four men were all charged with the same offences: creating terror, assisting in a terrorist act, and causing fear among the community.
The maximum penalty each faced was the death sentence.
While I personally don't recall the offer, we in Newcastle must have been asked if we wanted to be in attendance for the court proceedings, because Kim and Vicki Griffiths took up the offer and flew over to be in Denpasar District Court.
Vicki Griffiths
Completely different scenario to anything that we could imagine, it was all very dirty, ah very...
We had Federal Police with us, they took us there. We couldn’t understand what they were saying – I just wanted to eyeball the people.
Kim Griffiths
I think they had three or four judges sitting behind a bench.
Vicki Griffiths
But once I saw the fellow, I just felt very sad for him, is what I felt. I didn’t feel any anger directed at him, I didn’t feel it. I just felt sorry for him. He was somebody’s son.
Joe Frost
That person’s son who Vicki recalls was, in fact, Mohammad Cholili.
He left an impression on both Vicki and Kim – although that’s not to say they were impressed.
Vicki Griffiths
V: The boy that we saw... He was very loose-jawed.
Kim Griffiths
Big, bucked-teeth and that.
Vicki Griffiths
I don’t think he would have understood what was happening.
Kim Griffiths
Or what he actually did.
Vicki Griffiths
Or what he did or what he was going to do. He looked like he was hand-picked because he would have believed anything anyone told him. I was just looking at him thinking, ‘you poor little thing, like, you’ve really been thrown in the deep end.’
Kim Griffiths
They’ve used you up, mate.
Vicki Griffiths
Yeah.
Joe Frost
While he may not have had the aura of a terrorist mastermind, Chollily was on trial for assembling the devices used in the Bali Bombings.
Speaking to reporters outside the court, Cholilly asked:
“What is wrong with people learning how to make bombs? I want to meet death. Everybody will die eventually. Why can't I choose how to die?"
When Cholilly spoke of the guilt he felt at having been responsible for another’s death, it was not for the 20 innocent lives ended by the devices he built. Rather, Cholilly felt bad that the information he gave to police had led to Azhari's death:
"I feel guilty, because my words caused the death of a man. Bombs are hard to make, the most important thing is that I learned the essence of life from Azahari."
David Craig, the Australian Federal Police Detective Superintendent, who interviewed Cholilly shortly after his arrest, said Cholilly was in fact being groomed by Azhari for a position of leadership.
David Craig
Cholili was sub commander, if you'd like to, Azhari and certainly a protege.
Azhari was schooling him up in case Azhari died – or was killed or captured – that he would then take over the role that Azhari had, which was predominantly bomb design and management.
Joe Frost
Eventually found guilty, Mohammad Cholily was sentenced to 18 years in prison.
With good behaviour and various sentence reductions for national and religious holidays, he did less than half that amount of time, being freed in August 2014.
Also on trial was Anif Solchanudin.
You’ll recall from earlier episodes that the suicide bombers in Noordin Top and Azhari’s network were called ‘bridegrooms’, a codename chosen as a nod to the fact they would all find new wives once their mission was complete and they made their way to eternal paradise.
It feels like a none-too-subtle form of reinforcing to these recruits that they are doing is the right thing – their codename doubling as a reminder of the reward that awaits at the end of the mission.
There were three bridegrooms in the 2005 Bali Bombing.
Anif Solchanudin was supposed to have been the fourth.
Exactly where he would have targetted is not confirmed, although possibilities include the memorial to the first Bali Bombing.
However, while only 24 years old at the time of his arrest, Solchanudin was an experienced soldier, having fought in the civil conflict that had been raging for years in Indonesia's Maluku Islands.
So he was given a reprieve, Noordin and Azhari deciding a veteran such as Solchanudin could be useful in training recruits.
Having told the Judge he wanted to be a suicide bomber because he would be “escorted to heaven by 70 goddesses and able to help 70 of my family members”, the judge had follow-up questions.
Judge
Have you ever met these 70 goddesses? Do you know what they look like?
Solchanudin
No.
Judge
Do they look like movie stars?
Solchanudin
I don't know, sir.
Judge
What if they have scars and are ugly?
Solchanudin
[silent]
Judge
So you just believe what they told you?
Solchanudin
[silent]
Joe Frost
Solchanudin was found guilty. He told reporters he had every intention of fulfilling his destiny of dying as a martyr once he was out of prison.
He received a sentence of 15 years, but was free in 2013, again having served roughly half his time. Shortly after being freed, he was seen appearing in a pro-ISIS video – he claimed he was simply interested in hearing what the ISIS lot had to say, so his parole conditions were not altered.
Two other men were on trial: former phone salesman Dwi Widiarto and computer teacher Abdul Aziz.
The pair had been instrumental not in the creation of the bombs nor the recruitment of bridegrooms, but in spreading the message.
A previous episode went into how the three suicide bombers had delivered farewell messages to their families, videos found on a laptop in the destroyed hideout of Azhari Husin.
Widiarto had assisted in filming the three videos, while Aziz had put the videos on the website he had created for Noordin – called anshar.net.
Associate Professor Quinton Temby wrote about Anshar.net as part of his PhD thesis:
Quinton Temby
It was providing bomb-making recommendations and techniques, it was providing propaganda to inspire terrorism, it was seeking to recruit people into study circles, and – most notoriously of course – after the second Bali bombing it hosted these videos of the suicide bombers taking credit for the attacks and these were their martyrdom statements.
There was also the video of Noordin Top, a masked video of him threatening further attacks and threatening Australia specifically. All of this was freely available for a period of time, even after the second Bali bombing until the authorities suddenly cracked down on it.
Joe Frost
Widiarto and Aziz each received sentences of eight years – two years less than the prosecutors had sought.
I have been unable to find the exact dates of their release, however it is reasonable to assume neither of them served a full eight years, given the designated bomb-maker and the fourth bridegroom both managed to have their sentences effectively halved.
Regardless, after 20 people were murdered in the 2005 Bali Bombing, these four men went on trial. All faced the death sentence. Not one of them spent even a decade behind bars.
Act 2: Noordin’s years on the run
Joe Frost
It would not be fair to say that the Indonesian authorities were lax in seeking justice for the 2005 Bali Bombings.
In April 2006, Indonesia’s dedicated anti-terror unit, known as Detachment 88, stormed a safe-house in Wonosobo, Central Java.
Two members of Noordin’s organisation, known as Jabir and Abdul Hadi, were killed.
Both graduates of the JI pesantren system, Jabir and Abdul had learnt bomb-making under Azhari, and had been vital, long-standing members of Noordin’s cell.
You'll recall from a previous episode that Jabir had been the man to recruit Salik Firdaus and, indeed, police believe he had been the man to build the bomb Salik had used when he walked onto Jimbaran Beach. The bomb that killed Jennifer Williamson, and Colin and Fiona Zwolinski.
As for Abdul, he was known to help “ripen” recruits – ensure they were spiritually prepared for the deadly task they were to undertake.
But while Indonesia’s police had taken down key targets in Wonosobo, they had missed the main man.
Noordin had left the house mere hours before the raid began. It was to prove a frustratingly frequent story, Noordin eluding the authorities by the skin of his teeth on multiple occasions.
Quinton Temby says that, while he may not have been particularly popular, Noordin still had a network he could rely on.
Quinton Temby
While the broader JI network didn't agree with his attacks – they, as I said, disagreed for strategic reasons – that didn't mean that they wouldn't provide support to him in the sense of shelter. And so what that means is he had at his disposal a very wide network of militants across particularly Java, who he could hide out with and who would protect him. And so I think he just went to ground. I think the manhunt was too hot for him to keep carrying out attacks at the tempo he wanted to.
Joe Frost
The manhunt for Noordin was not limited to Indonesia either.
In February 2006, the FBI updated their ‘Seeking Information – Terrorism’ list, which is one of the FBI’s ‘most wanted’ lists. Noordin was now officially wanted by the most powerful country in the world.
And yet this former car mechanic managed to continue to evade capture by Indonesia, Australia and even America.
As to how he managed to stay a step ahead of the police, generally speaking, it was by relatively simple means.
Quinton Temby
There's a there's an interesting account of Nordin constantly shifting the safe houses he was staying in, shifting from Safe House to safe house, often in the boarding Islamic Boarding School Network in Java and at one point, stay in a isolated room at an Islamic Boarding school that was dedicated for people who were possessed by evil spirits, by jinn...
Former AFP officer David Craig said while Noordin used email to communicate among his network, they never actually sent anything:
David Craig
Yeah, the shared Internet accounts so that they could go into drafts, write a draft, save it and then one other member of their group would be able to do the same thing - login from somewhere else, getting in, but there's nothing actually transmitted.
So it put us at a big disadvantage – if something's not actually sent anywhere, you can't intercept it.
So this is was a, you know, ingenious way in a poor circumstance to use a low-tech option to actually communicate very effectively.
Joe Frost
These means of avoiding capture were key features during Noordin’s early time on the run.
As the manhunt somewhat simmered, rather than constantly moving, Noordin was able to simply adopt a new alias and start life afresh.
And so it was that in 2006, in the Javanese regency of Cilacap, a 24-year-old woman named Arina married a man by the name of Ade Abdul Halim.
Arina had been introduced to this suitor by her father, Baridin, who was the founder of a local pesantren.
Ade Abdul Halim, of course, was really Noordin Top.
Quinton Temby
He remarried. He married the daughter of a JI elder man, married his daughter, under a different name, and sort of used that marriage as camouflage living in an isolated village in rural Java.
Indonesia is such a large place, and these militant networks have such a strong history in some of these places that – if you're not trying to carry out attacks, you , and you just stop doing things – you can effectively avoid the authorities for many years. I think that's what Nordin found, and that's what he did.
Joe Frost
Arina has always claimed that is how she came to meet, marry and bear two children to Ade Abdul Halim – that her father, the head teacher and founder of an Islamic boarding school, had introduced her to Halim, and despite his frequent absences from their family home, she never suspected her husband was an internationally wanted terrorist.
Quinton Temby
Maybe it's plausible, because these militants did typically operate on a need-to-know basis. However, the senior women involved in jihadist families, even if they weren't operationally involved, often they were crucial sort of human intelligence behind the operations. And I mean, I've seen that myself in the fieldwork I've done, where I've where I've been talking to a senior JI militant and found him checking things and consulting on things with his wife in the background. And that would maybe never show up in an intelligence assessment of how the guy operated. But that was what I saw on the ground.
And so the idea that the wife would have just been some completely oblivious partner is less likely with someone like Nordin. But then that doesn't necessarily mean she would have known the details of his operations and that kind of thing.
Joe Frost
We have no real way of knowing if Arina was aware or not of her husband’s true identity.
But along with her husband being a terrorist mastermind in disguise, and her father running a notorious pesantren, Arina’s first cousin, known as Sabit, was yet another man wanted by Indonesian police for matters relating to terrorism.
We know this, because on the 21st of June 2009, cousin Sabit was arrested by the Indonesian authorities. They had been on Sabit’s trail since the previous year, primarily because he had been identified as a having a relationship with Noordin that dated back to 2004 - and that this relationship had extremist violence at its core.
Sabit’s arrest and interrogation led to police raiding the home of his uncle – that is, Arina’s father, Baridin. During the search of the premises, the authorities found a pile of explosives buried in Baridin’s yard.
Baridin himself, however, had escaped. And when the police turned up at Arina’s house, while she was there with her two children, her spouse was also gone.
According to what Arina told the police, it was only after the houses of her cousin, her father and her own family had been raided that she began to question whether Ade Abdul Halim – her husband of almost three years and the father of those two kids – was really who he said he was.
Arina would be the third woman Noordin had married and then abandoned. His first wife had come from a family indoctrinated in all things JI - her brother was part of the 2004 Marriott Bombing. She had given Noordin two children and was pregnant with a third before he went on the run in 2002.
Noordin married for a second time in 2004, and members of Noordin’s network used the wedding as an opportunity to exchange parts for bombs. His second wife ended up being arrested and sentenced to three years in prison for hiding a suspected terrorist.
And, according to a police source interviewed by the Jakarta Globe, Noordin had married Arina to keep her father, Baridin, loyal to his own cause.
So each of these marriages may have served a tactical purpose. But, according to Dr Sally White of the Australian National University, matrimony had a much more human motivation too.
These are Dr White’s words, although not her voice:
Dr Sally White
Noordin’s marriages gave him the opportunity to lead a normal life, to relax and feel himself part of a family, for short periods of time at least... Noordin was on the run for over seven years; hence the psychological importance of having a comparatively safe ‘home base’, not to mention a legitimate sexual outlet.
Joe Frost
Eventually, Arina was declared to be a witness, rather than a suspect, in hiding Noordin.
So Noordin had got away. Again. And while it was now almost four years since Bali 2005 – which was the last notable mission Noordin’s network had executed – the explosives found in Noordin’s father-in-law's home suggested that while the Most Wanted Man in Indonesia had been laying low, he had not been completely inactive.
More than just assembling the materiel required to destroy yet more buildings and lives, Noordin had also spent the time playing the long game in bringing yet more young men into al Qaeda for the Malay Archipelago.
As for how Noordin continued to recruit, Anif Solchanudin – the would-be fourth bridegroom – gave an interview in June 2009, just as these arrests were starting to happen, offering a chilling insight into Noordin’s recruitment strategy:
Anif Solchanudin
Noordin never goes looking for people committed to the cause, but rather young people seek him out to sacrifice themselves. If you are on the same track, you will be able to find him.
Joe Frost
In the middle months of 2009, a group of young men had found Noordin and he had given them a purpose.
Act 3: “Now more than ever”
Joe Frost
On October 2 2005, the day after the bombing, Peny and Paul Anicich had been flown to Singapore to receive urgent, life-saving medical attention.
Peny recalls the treatment being long and arduous - particularly for her husband.
Peny Anicich
When I was in intensive care... initially I didn’t go over to visit him, because I couldn’t, but after a few days I did go over. And he had instruments down his throat to breathe and he was in a coma. He was, whether he’d make it through the night. A priest even came one night to say do we want to say prayers for Paul. I remember that happening because I didn’t know the proper things on the Catholic rosary but I said we’re Catholics.
He also got infections. So it was unsure whether he would live for quite a while, even once I went down to my room a week later... occasionally I went up to visit him.
He couldn't write, he couldn't speak at the time, so he just made signs. I remember I read 'I love you’.
Joe Frost
Peny kept a diary throughout this time and, as her confidence in her husband’s survival grew, a new concern arose.
Peny Anicich
I just was looking through my diary and it said, ‘call at the desk to discuss the mounting costs’ on about day 3. So the cost were enormous. And I thought we were going to be paying millions when we got home. I was very worried about that, at the time. But actually that was all covered – mine by the British Government and Paul by the Australian Government.
Joe Frost
The costs were covered.
For many of the survivors who had been flown to Darwin, while not as intense, treatment was similarly lengthy.
Aleta Lederwasch had received a piece of shrapnel to her leg, which had been removed in Bali, but the operation had resulted in a serious infection and the development of compartment syndrome. All of which meant Aleta’s wounded leg needed to be cut open again.
Aleta Lederwasch
So they opened it from my ankle to my knee. So pretty big incision. And from what I was told, they effectively washed out the bacteria.
They didn't realise it would heal so well, because they spoke about where I wanted to get skin grafted from, so I chose my bottom. And so I was expecting to have a leg that was bigger than my other leg. Because they didn't think they'd be able to close it up completely.
But it was very effective and it you know it took a number of weeks, but it went back down to its normal size and so they were able to stitch it up without grafting.
Joe Frost
An artist, part of Aleta’s self-prescribed treatment for her wound was picking up a pencil and paper.
Aleta Lederwasch
it was also, from an artist's point of view, pretty fascinating. I'd never seen the inside of a leg before. That's when, fortunately, my boyfriend's auntie had sent pencils and a beautiful drawing journal over which was unbelievably thoughtful and actually really helpful, I think, because I effectively gave myself art therapy. So I had six operations, I think, and during or after each one, I drew my leg and it gave me something to focus on. It's like a meditation. Anything that you're focused fully on, the one thing is meditating so it just it became, yeah, a really nice process and red and blue were my favourite colours to draw with. Interestingly, at the time so had the blue stitches and the red blood went quite well.
Joe Frost
For Jenny and Eric Pillar, the initial concerns regarding physical injury were extremely serious. However, as the physical wounds healed, a different issue came to the fore.
Jenny Pilar
And he was in hospital for about six weeks, and then he came home. And we had nothing to ever – didn't know anything about mental health at all – and it was from then on for the next five years, that it was just consumed our life. Like, once the wounds were all healed, it was like, ‘what the hell’s going on?’
A quiet and considered man, Eric was suddenly talking all hours of the night and day, using eBay to go on extravagant shopping sprees, calling in to national radio programs. And he was in no state to go to work.
Eric worked for a company that were unbelievable so he was fully paid, anything we needed they bent over backwards to help us... You virtually didn’t work did you?
Eric Pilar
No.
Jenny Pilar
For five years. He did but off and on, he spent a lot of time in and out of hospital...
And eventually we found a guy who changed our lives. And he sent Eric to St John of God in Sydney and he spent three months there. They specialise in trauma for people like ambulance and Vietnam vets...
You've gotta be well enough to accept, cos for the first couple months that he was in St John of God he was so unwell that none of the therapy worked anyway. But when it worked, when you’ve got the timing right and you’re ready to do it, it worked didn’t it?
Joe Frost
So did they come up with a diagnosis for what was happening?
Jenny Pilar
Yeah, bipolar.
Joe Frost
Oh right.
Eric Pilar
And PTSD.
Jenny Pilar
PTSD but, because then when he went into the hospital and they were like, ‘he’s diagnosed with bipolar’. And I was like, even that word, was like, ‘what? He doesn’t have bipolar.’
And they explained that... you only need to have one high episode and one low episode to be diagnosed with bipolar. And he’s never had that since, because the medication keeps him on that even... So they do so he’s biploar – and PTSD.
We’ve all got PTSD really.
Joe Frost
For all the survivors, a lot of the injuries sustained, both the visible and invisible, were complex – some will require care for the rest of our lives.
But thanks to the Australian Government's Disaster Health Care Assistance Scheme, pretty much all these potentially expensive treatments are paid for.
It’s a level of bureaucracy – there are forms to be filled in, doctors need to write letters, receipts have to be provided – but it’s a lifetime scheme to help survivors of certain acts of terrorism or natural disasters with out-of-pocket costs.
You have to be grateful to live in a country where that’s the help you receive.
And, thanks to Tony Abbott, the government's recognition of survivors of terrorism went beyond reimbursement of medical expenses.
Tony Abbott
I was very conscious of the fact that this atrocity had not just killed people, but it had utterly upended the lives of the survivors – in some cases because they were bereaved of their nearest and dearest, in other cases because they were suffering very serious, ongoing injuries and disabilities. And I thought, look, there's got to be a way of helping people...
So if I am very severely injured as a result of a crime here in Australia, normally, the state government will make a payment... I t was about, at that point in time, $75,000 up to $75,000 for you or your next of kin if you had been killed.
And I thought, ‘Well, if that's what happens to people who are the victims of crime in Australia, surely there should be something comparable for the victims of crime overseas’, particularly if it was a crime that had been committed as an act of terrorism against Australians.
We might get mugged in New York, but if an Australian gets mugged in New York, he or she is not being mugged because he or she is an Australian. It's just that at some time people get mugged in New York. But the two Bali bombings, the 911 attack, these were attacks either on Australia or they were attacks on the democratic and liberal way of life that we enjoy in Australia and other Western countries.
So there was a sense in which these were targeted crimes. They weren't just random crimes. They were targeted crimes. So I thought that any Australian who is badly impacted by a terrorist crime should get something comparable to the victims of crime Quantum. Should they have been the victim of a crime in Australia.
I campaigned for this when I was opposition leader, I moved a private member's bill to this effect, my recollection is that the then government accepted it, but only prospectively, not retrospectively.
Joe Frost
That was indeed the case – when the “Social Security Amendment (Supporting Australian Victims of Terrorism Overseas) Bill 2012” was passed, it made provisions that any future victim of terror would be eligible for compensation.
I recall a bittersweet meeting with my Local Federal Member, who explained the legislation that had passed would help future victims and survivors. Those of us affected by any previous attack, however, would not be eligible.
But the matter was not closed.
On the 18th of September 2013, Tony Abbott was sworn in as the 28th Prime Minister of Australia.
Tony Abbott
And one of the first things I did on becoming PM in 2013 was make it retrospective for the victims of the two Bali bombings, September the 11th, the 2005 London bombing and several other terrorist atrocities which had involved Australians. And obviously that meant that quite a few of the people who had been in that party from Newcastle, did get a very significant benefit, and I know there was enormous gratitude, and in some cases, that benefit was quite life changing for them.
Joe Frost
I know you're looking at me, but yes, it was. Thank you.
Joe Frost
I had struggled with applying for the compensation money. I had been so well taken care of, and the rest of my family had escaped without injury. I didn’t think I deserved it.
But having said as much to a number of people – I remember, in particular, conversations with my sister and one of my closest mates – I was convinced to apply.
I had survived something awful, but my life had been changed. I had been changed. It’s OK to accept recognition of this fact, even if that recognition was financial.
I was living in England, where my girlfriend was attending university in Liverpool, and one morning, I logged onto my internet banking to discover a life-changing sum of money had been deposited in my Aussie account.
I called Fiona, who was at work, told her that everything was fine, but I needed to see her on her lunch break.
We met at a cafe in the middle of Liverpool One, the city’s busy retail centre. Fiona, understandably concerned, asked me what was going on.
“Um... I just got $75,000,” I said.
I still wasn't sure how I felt about it. But by the end of Fi's lunchbreak, I was at peace.
As we went our separate ways – me to our flat, Fi back to work – I turned and called out to her across the crowded street.
“I love you.”
It was an idiot move I’d pulled multiple times saying goodbye to Fi in busy streets, airports, shops – and inevitably she would silently smile and shake her head.
This time she responded.
“I love you too. Now more than ever.”
The first thing I bought with the money was an engagement ring.
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