Joanna sits quietly on the second-floor balcony, the golden evening light warming her face. Below, Henderson murmurs with the gentle stir of city life. But her thoughts drift far from the present.

It's been two months since she learned the truth.

Seven years with Jason.

Seven years of laughter, shared playlists, morning coffees and vanishing acts she once wrote off as quirks. Now it all made sense. His uncanny hearing, how he always knew who was behind them in a crowded room. His quiet corrections when she got the news wrong. Jason wasn't just mysterious. He was a spy.

She wraps her cardigan tighter and steps inside the open-plan living room. The space is sleek yet warm - just like the early days of their relationship. She remembers when they danced here, barefoot, wine glasses in hand. The glossy kitchen gleamed in the corner while music spilled from Jason's phone. They danced to nothing in particular, just the joy of being home.

The kitchen, compact and clever, still holds the cinnamon-sweet memory of their Saturday pancake rituals. Jason always insisted on making breakfast - said it was "standard protocol for morale." She thought it was a joke. Now she wonders if it was his way of anchoring himself to a normal life.

She walks past the study, her sanctuary now. Once filled with notes for her freelance design work, it's where she eventually discovered the truth. A USB left behind in a drawer. She hadn't meant to pry. But a designer's curiosity is hard to silence.

Photos. Coordinates. Passports in six different names.

Her hand lingers on the doorframe. "This room changed everything," she whispers.

In the bedroom, she lies back on the bed and lets herself remember how they first met.

It was a rainy Thursday. She was running late for her first Auckland art exhibition. Her umbrella flipped inside out as she wrestled with a portfolio tube. Jason appeared, like a movie scene - dark coat, steady hands, smile so calm it cut through the storm. He walked her to the gallery, said he "happened to be heading that way." Looking back, he probably wasn't.

She thought it was chance. Now she wonders if she was part of an assignment.

The bathroom is next - sleek, clean-lined, and surprisingly comforting. She remembers Jason installing the backlit mirror himself. "For surveillance," he teased. She laughed then. She doesn't now. But despite it all, the bathroom has become her place of peace-where she washes away questions and reclaims the day.

Back in the living room, the glow of two heat pumps keeps her cozy as the night falls. A small candle flickers on the windowsill. Jason once said it's impossible to hide heat signatures. She thought it was just a nerdy fact.

Joanna smiles.

She's alone now - but not lonely. This home, 209/28C Eileen Newey Place, holds pieces of their story. Not all stories end in forever. But some leave you stronger, clearer, more awake.

And ready for whatever-and whoever-comes next.

Settlement & deposit terms flexible. Conjunctionals welcome.

*Property particulars have been obtained by a third party.
If the property is to be used as a rental, compliance with the Healthy Homes Standards will be the responsibility of the purchaser.