She holds up two fingers on her left hand, that diamond ring flashing in the light. "Two days. But... eight months? That is impossible. Too long."

This whole business distresses her even more than the plane crash: at least with that, she had her husband. It made no sense, but it made more sense than this.

A tentative sip of tea later -- it is as good as the dumplings were the other day -- she is still shaking her head. "You got to go home for six months, but really only for three weeks?"

The longer she stays here, the less sense it makes. "I do not want to be here for eight months. What will happen to my husband? When you went home, was it the same?"