One Perfect Couple

“It wasn’t just that Nico’s answer was sort of delusional—did he really think that he was on an Adam Driver career path? I might as well compare myself to Rosalind Franklin. It was also that not one word of his answer had featured me, or indeed any kind of homelife at all.”

Lyla’s language here borders on the contemptuous as she equates Nico’s ambitions with a delusion. She is careful to emphasize she does not share his goals, and her mention of Rosalind Franklin as the real discoverer of DNA serves as a reminder of her feminist worldview. Her realization that “not one word” of Nico’s dreams involves her foreshadows the conflict between them.

“Nico put his arm around my shoulder and squeezed hard. ‘Excited?’ Not really, was the honest answer. Exhausted, was the word I’d have chosen, closely followed by hungry, and nervous. But I knew that wasn’t what Nico wanted me to say, so I smiled weakly. ‘Yeah. Let the adventure begin.’”

Nico’s gesture emphasizes his exuberance and energy, which stands in contrast to Lyla’s fatigue and lack of enthusiasm. Her inner monologue of adjectives emphasizes her depletion and dread of the ordeal to come, but because she chooses not to share her genuine feelings with Nico, it is clear that their relationship is on very shaky ground. Her choice to deny her feelings and perform the role that Nico expects is an indication that the inauthentic parameters of the reality show are already taking effect. The contrived nature of the setting also underscores the grim reality that their relationship already lacks authenticity.

“I’ve never been a body language kind of person—I prefer data, figures, cold hard facts. But now I wished I had Nico’s gift for reading between the lines, because there was something going on here, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what it was. Baz should have been grateful to Conor for backing him up—but he didn’t look it. He was looking at Conor almost as if he disliked him.”

Lyla’s struggle to read the standoff between Conor and Baz indicates that the show is already an environment that places her at a disadvantage. Her mention of Nico is a compliment to his intuition that also highlights their differences. Lyla’s emerging sense that she is embroiled in an inexplicable conflict adds an early sense of mystery to the plot.

“I had been intending to follow, begin the work of getting our stuff together, but instead I turned back to the horizon, watching the island, Ever After Island, edging closer. It was almost hypnotic—the blue of the sea, the blue of the sky, the little slip of white sand in between, moving in time with the rise and fall of the boat. Just a minute more, I told myself. Just a minute more alone, just me and the horizon. Well, and the cameras.”

Tellingly, the island’s name evokes the stereotypical “happily ever after” trope embraced and perpetuated by fairy tales, and the isolated location implies that the island is a world apart from the practical concerns of everyday life. Lyla is almost mesmerized, and the tropical beauty and the ship hold an unspoken power over her, but even in the midst of her fascination, she cannot completely forget the presence of the cameras that will record her every move.

“If our relationship had just ended, live on camera, and I still wasn’t sure if that was the case, then maybe it was oddly fitting that we had stumbled from one horror show to another. Because, no matter how you spun it, this was a horror show […] And now I was alone on a tiny island, thousands of miles from home, wondering what on earth I’d let myself in for.”

Lyla’s use of conditionals underlines her emotional instability in the aftermath of Nico’s departure. The repetition of the phrase “horror show” emphasizes her shock, and the gap between her plans and her circumstances clearly overwhelms her. In this moment, Lyla is isolated and uncertain, and she succumbs to the contrived nature of her surroundings by actively casting herself as a character in a story, as she is passively waiting for some unseen narrator to tell her what happens next rather than behaving as an active agent.

“Perhaps she’d been trying to make it to the radio shack and had been hit by some storm debris, then had stumbled blindly through the clearing and into the undergrowth to die. I opened my eyes, forced myself to look at her face one more time, making sure that she was really dead, and then I turned. There was nothing I could do for her. It was the living who needed help now, and I had to get back.”

The disaster brings out the scientist in Lyla as she hypothesizes how the unnamed producer met her end. Lyla “forces” herself to look at the carnage despite her shock, using her reason to shield her from the emotional impact of the experience; for all of her practicality, the disaster has not made her comfortable with death. However, the storm banishes some of her earlier indecision as she realizes her sense of responsibility toward the other survivors.

“For a moment it had felt almost as if the night had been a bad dream—just another reality TV scenario, a team game we had to work together to overcome, using all our skills to add to the prize pot. And then Joel let out a choking sob, and suddenly it was all real again. And it was very far from a game.”

Lyla’s description indicates that the others have struggled to process their collective trauma. The structure of the reality show itself offers them this escape, as if they can pretend that their survival efforts are a “team game” like the ones they were promised. However, Joel’s very real grief shatters this illusion, proving that genuine emotion is the antidote to denial.

“He glanced around the circle, looking for agreement, and I found myself nodding, though I didn’t like the them and us mentality that was developing. Every reality TV show I’d ever watched, there was the pack, and the outsiders. And both could be a dangerous place to find yourself.”

Lyla “finds herself” agreeing with Conor’s opposition to Bayer, as if to suggest that group approval has a power of its own. Even in the absence of a production staff, Lyla finds herself thinking in terms of the television genre in order to process the complexities of her circumstances. The image of the “pack” mentality emphasizes the idea that the people on the island are demonstrating the turbulent behavior of wolves or dogs, and this passage illustrates the dehumanizing aspects of their plight.

“Blood sprayed everywhere, spattering across the sand, and then Conor twisted out of Bayer’s grip and was on top of him, straddling him like a bull. He was hitting Bayer again and again in the head, Bayer’s skull bouncing off the steps with every blow. ‘Stop it!’ Angel was screaming. ‘Stop it, you’re killing him!’ And then suddenly…suddenly I knew she was right.”

The brutal imagery of this passage stresses the violence of the struggle and the gore of physical conflict. In this moment, Conor is no longer a man; he is implicitly compared to a dangerous animal as he wrestles Bayer. Angel’s screams also force Lyla to confront the truth of the conflict, and the scene represents an abrupt turning point in which the humans become a greater threat to each other than the wild ocean setting can ever be.

“‘You’re letting her eat?’ I couldn’t stop the words coming out, incredulously. Conor turned to me. His pale eyes were ice-cold.”

Lyla’s incredulity at Conor’s dominant stance indicates that despite the recent traumas and the threat that Conor represents, her feminist sensibilities and moral center remain intact. She is horrified by the idea that they can only eat at Conor’s whim, and her instincts are screaming that he is a danger to them all. The description of Conor’s “ice-cold” eyes emphasizes his lack of remorse or empathy, and in this moment, it becomes impossible to deny the fact that he is the most imminent threat to the group as a whole.

“We all turned, and Angel was standing in the clearing in a long white dress that billowed in the sea breeze. ‘Bravo, Dan,’ she said, but she was looking at Conor as she said the words. ‘Someone has finally to stand up to the murderer.’ Conor smiled, showing all his white teeth. Santana put her head in her hands. Joel looked like he was about to burst into tears himself.”

As Angel appears in billowing white, her appearance combines with her name to render her a symbolic evocation of moral clarity. By applauding Dan’s resistance and calling Conor a “murderer,” she brings the group’s core conflict into the open and takes a clear stance. However, Conor’s choice to smile rather than deny her accusation indicates his calm and willing acceptance of the role of villain. Confronted by these two unequivocal stances, Santana and Joel remain caught in the middle, overwhelmed by the growing danger.

“Here we were, looking like something out of a travel brochure, four bikini-clad girls, tanned, beautiful, kneeling in the surf and silhouetted against the most stunning sunset I had ever seen—and yet all I could think about was the darkness beneath the picture, the rifts pulling our little community apart.”

In this moment, Lyla finds beauty to be more deceptive than comforting. The four women look like an argument for the beauty of retreats to nature, but even the “stunning” sunset offers Lyla no comfort, and she recognizes that the coming of night is insignificant compared to the hidden existential threat that looms over them all.

“‘We were just talking about English expressions,’ Angel said at last. She shot me and Santana a look, as though inviting us to back her up. I felt a coldness around my heart. She didn’t trust Joel. And the worst thing was…I wasn’t sure I did either now. Because her logic made sense. Someone had taken that insulin, and I couldn’t see how it could have been Conor.”

Angel’s words and gestures emphasize her willingness to accept the fractures within the group, and she wordlessly urges Lyla and Santana to do the same. Lyla is horrified and almost repelled by her forthrightness, but she admits to sharing Angel’s doubts. Lyla insists on reason over sentiment, resisting the easy narrative in which Conor is always the villain simply because she dislikes him. Her contemplation proves that her strength is intellectual rather than physical.

“I had looked at the information in front of me and accepted what it meant, because that was my job. Because my sole, overriding duty as a scientist was to face up to reality. And now I had to do the same thing here. I had to look at the facts—and face up to what was happening on Ever After Island. I had to find out the truth.”

Here, Ware establishes that Dan’s death returns Lyla to her core self. She remembers the temptation to falsify data and fall back on a more palatable story, and her moral obligation to resist it remains unchanged, for all that she has undergone. Her mention of the island’s name is a study in contrasts, as she must resist the fairy tale label and learn to tell the real story, however unpleasant it may be.

“She was desperate, maybe even more desperate than the rest of us, for everyone to meet Conor’s target. If we turned up with eight coconuts…well, no one had to find out if he was willing to carry through with his threat and leave us without water. We were already operating at the limits of hydration—mouths permanently dry, lips cracked, constant headaches and dizziness.”

The repetition in this passage emphasizes Zana’s powerlessness in the face of Conor’s cruelty. Zana feels a sense of collective responsibility that Conor lacks and ultimately risks her own safety to spare others from his wrath. Lyla’s description of Zana’s physical plight draws attention to the danger that Conor poses to all of them.

“I clenched my fists. I didn’t like that will. Not would but will. ‘Because if he dies, they will have to prove motive,’ Angel said calmly. ‘And without the microphones, we will not have one.’”

In this tense moment, every word carries weight for Lyla. She knows that the shift from a conditional future to a more definite one means that the others have started to see Conor’s death as an inevitability. Angel emerges as the most coldly rational of them all when she reminds the others that the cameras both conceal and reveal evidence. Ironically, the original purpose of the reality show will aid in their deception scheme in ways that its producers never imagined.

“Every day we lost a little more and drank a little less. Every day our mouths were drier, our urine darker, our lips more ragged. And every day the scientist in me shrank a little more. I no longer cared about my career. […] I was only one thing now: a survivor. Like Angel. Like Santana. Like Conor.”

The repetition in this passage emphasizes the group’s desperation as their resources dwindle, counting down the time like a doomsday clock. Lyla recognizes that her analytical, detached self belongs in an unrecoverable version of the past. In this way, Ware emphasizes that despite the women’s stance as Conor’s enemies, he and they share a common focus because they have been stripped down to their essential will to live.

“‘Lyla, listen to me. I am dead in two days if we don’t get that insulin. Dead. Do you understand that? It’s him or me. So choose. Choose right now. Because you won’t get a second chance.’ There was a long, long silence. ‘I choose you,’ I said. But all I felt was a terrible foreboding.”

Santana’s stark words and emphasis on her own impending doom emphasize that her plight is even starker than Lyla’s or Angel’s. The language of choice mimics other reality shows, especially when it comes to forging alliances. However, given the grim reality of their situation, Lyla and Santana face a much starker decision, and Lyla’s words do seal a partnership between them. Her “foreboding” emphasizes the fact that although the path ahead may be rooted in camaraderie, there is no easy fulfillment to be found in their plan.

“When I had seen that headshot, when I’d met him for the first time, I had thought what a nice smile he had—how open he seemed, how sincere. But now, that wide, warm smile that didn’t reach his extraordinary ice-cold eyes, it seemed the most frightening thing in the world.”

Here, Lyla once more reevaluates her prior decisions, recalling that she was once charmed by Conor. His eyes remain “extraordinary,” but this time, they reveal the utter lack of remorse that lurks at his core, and Lyla is most struck by the disparity between his facial expression and his intentions. Lyla now considers him the most terrifying thing imaginable, and her fear indicates that his regime has come to define her universe.

“‘Sa…’ I managed, and it came out like a death rattle, like the last gasp of someone with nothing else to give. But it was only as she swung the bottle down towards us that I realized who was holding it. It wasn’t Santana. It was Zana.”

By comparing Lyla’s gasp to a “death rattle,” Ware creates a false expectation of her demise and highlights the deadly seriousness of the moment. Lyla assumes that Santana has come to her rescue and is shocked to discover that Zana has finally taken direct action against her abuser. This moment underscores that Zana has also chosen survival despite all her fears, confirming her fundamental strength.

“‘You clearly know more about this than any of us. And if there’s anything Santa and I can do to help you, just say it. But I think this is on you, Angel. You’re our best chance.’ ‘Dieu,’ Angel said. It had been supposed to be a compliment to cheer her up, but it was plain she hadn’t taken it like that. In fact, her face was more somber than ever.”

This scene underscores the collaborative and honest relationship among the remaining survivors once Conor is no longer a threat. Lyla compliments Angel’s expertise and admits her own lack of knowledge, expressing confidence in her. Angel, for her part, is humbled by the responsibility, not seeing it as her due or as any kind of privilege.

“‘Just eight. And two injured.’ She looked up, and then swallowed, and I saw there were tears in her eyes. ‘It feels more vital than ever that we take care of each other until the boat gets back for us…We just have to stay strong.’”

Zana’s tears and her spoken words indicate that all of the women are sincere in this moment, even as the words on a page display a deliberately contrived fantasy. This fantasy of care and collaboration will save them all, and Zana’s utterance emphasizes the fact that the women are waiting for rescue. In this context, her fictionalized diary stands as a covenant to honor their sacrifices and return home to real safety.

“A lump rose in my throat, thinking of Dan, of Joel, of Bayer, of Romi, and the poor, nameless producer—and of Nico, of his last words to me. You set me up. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. This wasn’t what we agreed! And it was true—more true than any of us could have known at the time. We were all set up. None of us had agreed to Baz’s stupid, stupid plan.”

Lyla’s catalogue of her recent experiences illustrates the depth of her grief and the cataclysmic nature of Baz’s miscalculation. For all that they disagreed and betrayed one another in the end, all 10 contestants were harmed by Baz’s delusional plan for revenge. Nico’s words thus become an unintentional prophecy of the group’s ultimate fate.