The rest of the week was hell. The moment my guards left I began to cry. At first, I cried because of Ayamin and the fact I’d been able to touch and hold her, then I cried because I wouldn’t see her until the trial.

Days passed slowly, by the fourth I’d walked 12,000 paces, done 253 push ups and 706 squats. I was bored, and I was worrying.

In my life I’d never been depressed before. But in those three days leading up to the trial, I stopped eating, I couldn’t sleep. All I could think about was Ayamin’s face. What it would look like if her dreams were crushed. I thought about never seeing her again. I had no idea where they’d take her if she was barred entry.

It seemed everything we’d been working to achieve over the past few months had been for nothing. All that walking, fighting, and surviving.

I wanted to die. But also, I wanted to see Ayamin again. Our plan gave me one sliver of hope. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

****

On the day of Ayamin’s trial, I woke up beside the toilet. Bits of spew flecked the toilet bowl from where I’d thrown up the night before.

‘English food,’ I groaned, ‘Oh how I’ve missed you.’

As wrinkled pieces of potato disappeared down the drain, I rested my hands on my knees and took a good look at myself in the bathroom tiles.

I’ve broken the law and almost been to juvie, I’ve travelled far, worked in a hospital, and fallen in love. I’ve crossed the Aegean on a life-raft, stolen lemoni in Greece, snuck into Macedonia, and ridden freight trains through the night.

I’ll probably never finish high school, I can work well with my hands, and after this, I’ll have at least half a year in jail to decide what sort of job I want when I get out.

I’d lived a bloody good life over the last couple months and after everything I’d been through the thought of jail didn’t scare me the way it once had. I knew who I was and what I believed in.

The only thing that matters to me at this moment is whether Ayamin is allowed into the country – that’s what I’m going to tell the judge today.

****

Just after 10am the guards led me to an interview room in handcuffs.

The room was small. A large TV and camera took up one half, while a desk and two chairs took up the other.

A young woman wearing a blazer and a strained but cheerful smile sat on the chair closest to me.

She gave me her chair, ‘It’s good to finally meet you, I’m Estelle and I’m acting as an assistant to Ayamin’s lawyer. I’m just here to make sure it all goes smoothly for you, as you won’t actually be in court today.

I glanced at the camera setup while the guards took my handcuffs off, ‘No one told me that.’

Estelle shrugged, ‘From what I gathered it had something to do with your history of evading people that want to find you.’

She pressed a button and the screen flicked on – we had a full view of the courtroom and all the people in it.

A Union Jack sat behind the still-empty judge’s desk. The public gallery was so packed with cameras and journalists that they nearly spilled out into the area where the legal teams sat.

Sitting on a wooden bench in the thick of it all was Ayamin. Her face seemed calm as her lawyer spoke to her, but I could see her eyes darting around the courtroom.

I don’t know whether it was the screen or the lighting or what but her hair seemed almost grey.

‘Hello Aya,’ I whispered to her.

Ayamin raised her hand and waved – but not to me. Donna entered the screen, she hugged Ayamin and spoke to her. Streisand was there too, she pointed to the camera Estelle and I were watching through as she spoke to Ayamin.

Estelle tapped a red button on the desk in front of us.

‘Just so we’re on the same page, we’ve decided if Ayamin’s case is going well you’ll only have to give a brief statement,’ she said.

I lifted my left hand. On it sat the wedding ring, ‘You know about this right?’

The lawyer gave a grimace as she nodded, ‘That’s what we’re worried about. We don’t know how the judge will react – especially because no one told her about it. We’re going to try to push with the refugee angle and only bring up your marriage as a last resort, sound okay?’

I shrugged, You’re the lawyer.’

Estelle stared at me, her mouth was open like she wanted to say something more, but then the judge appeared on screen and we turned away from each other.

Estelle glanced at her watch.

‘Exactly ten-thirty.’

Even the judge’s footsteps, firm, measured, and deliberate, let you know she was in control. By the time she sat down the entire room was silent. The judge paused. Cleared her throat, and declared court open.

‘Usually immigration cases only take a few hours for us to settle. But the amount of evidence put forward by both sides, and the overwhelming public interest makes it necessary to stretch our court time to an entire day,’ the judge glanced up at the rows of journalists and photographers.

‘But the law must come first. In every other way, this hearing will be no different to the hundreds of similar cases this court hears every year.’

I found myself watching a black-clad man sitting at the bench opposite Ayamin. The man’s face was like a bulldog, his body too. He had a pen in his hand and as the judge spoke the pen tapped a rhythm on the yellow legal pad in front of him.

The pen stopped moving and his head shifted ninety degrees to stare at me.

I flinched. Then felt Estelle’s hand on my arm.

‘He can’t actually see you,’ she said.

‘That is one scary dude.’

‘I know,’ she bit her lip, ‘That’s the opposition lawyer.’