For the next three weeks, she will forget herself. She will become someone else; they will become strangers with the shared memory of familiarity.

Their unraveling begins with a couple beers, a few laughably small bottles of whiskey. In the aftermath of the morning, they begin to fray after a few hours in a hotel room somewhere in Seoul neither want to pay for but both insist on. They will have their first truly honest conversation, and that honesty will make everything crumble. The irony is, of course, that it isn't very honest at all.

She can feel the media and public opinion begin to corrode their friendship. Their reality sends a harsh reminder: she is not her own person, he is not his. Everyone will always claim them, they will always be defined by others or by the people they used to date. Their world does not allow for the simplicity of their relationship.

But it isn't just that. It is merely the beginning, the spark that ignites an explosion.

They will begin a cycle that repeats tirelessly and mercilessly fuelled by swallowed truths and dishonest honesty. She will feel an inexplicable need to tear into him, to lash out at every opportunity of perceived criticism. She will remember what their dynamic used to be like, but she will not know how to claw their way back to normalcy.

They will hit walls. Repeatedly.
They will hurt each other. Repeatedly.
And then they will apologize. Repeatedly.

She doesn't recognize herself these days. She wonders if anyone notices the shift, though she doesn't see how they can't. The her in Greece is a half-pretend her, a person she wishes she could be and wants to be. Emotional distance is the only remedy she knows for her problems, so she retreats from everyone instead.

But candor is an imposing mountain, a barrier that neither are truly willing to climb. There's being honest with one another, and then... there's being honest. It's a vulnerability and nakedness she is unwilling to disclose about herself. She's more comfortable behind smoke and mirrors and carefully crafted illusions.

Instead she is hyper conscious, second guessing every text she gets and sends. Will he misunderstand this one? Will she? Are they joking, or syllables away from another bout? She is drained from this constant wondering, from picking at her words and from pretending she is confident that everything will be okay.

It begins that night, and 25 days later, it continues seemingly to no end.