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Sexual-assault survivor Harrison James, 26, and cancer survivor Bella Johnston, 31, first connected on Instagram, but the sparks really flew when they finally met face-to-face in a Rome Airbnb.
HARRISON: I met Bella in 2024 when she sent me a DM on Instagram. Someone had sent her a link to a front-page newspaper story about my campaign to prohibit “good character” references from being used in court to reduce the sentences of sexual predators. Bella was very supportive of my campaign and the conversations were polite and respectful. My personal story was already all over social media: how I’d been groomed and sexually abused from the age of 13 by my stepmother; how she’d given birth to my daughter; how I’d had to pretend she was my sister instead of my daughter; how my stepmother had fled back to the Philippines.
We shared more of ourselves via DMs as the weeks passed – Bella about her cancer [she’d received treatment for paraganglioma – a rare tumour in the neck – in 2014] and her mixed feelings about having been on The Bachelor [in 2022] – but the conversations remained non-romantic, even though I’d scrolled through her Insta photos and thought she was really cute. A few months later, she went off to travel around Europe without us ever having met face-to-face.
One night, Bella FaceTimed me from Greece, and we chatted for five hours – until 5am my time. I was totally captivated. I asked her, “So when are you coming back to Australia?” When she told me she wasn’t coming back but was going on to Italy and, later, London to work, I replied, “Well, in that case, I’ll have to fly over to Rome to meet you.”
In September 2024, I flew to Italy. When she opened the door of the Airbnb, my first thought was how gorgeous she looked. She was wearing a floral skirt and denim vest, her olive skin glowing from the sun. We went for a late dinner. She later told me she’d booked a pull-out bed for the room in case it didn’t work out; we never used it.
‘When Bella opened the door of the Airbnb, my first thought was how gorgeous she looked.’
We spent a magical three weeks travelling around Italy; I’d never felt a connection with anyone like this before. One of the hardest things about childhood sexual abuse is that it strips you of the belief you’re worthy of love; Bella taught me you’re not defined by what you’ve been through. Over a candlelit dinner in Ischia, an island off the coast of Naples, I opened up about the pain of not seeing my daughter. Bella put her hand across the table and told me she’d always be there for me. That was the night I fell in love with her, and I think she did, too.
I returned to Australia for a few months to continue my campaign [which finally led to legislation being passed in NSW in May this year abolishing “good character” references for convicted sexual offenders; Victoria will soon follow], but we were missing one another badly, so I moved to London to be with Bella.
Writing my memoir [Transform Your Pain into Purpose; Simon & Schuster] required revisiting some pretty painful events, which sent me into a really dark space and I ended up in a psychiatric ward. Bella, as always, was a pillar of support and understood that I was traumatised and that this wasn’t a genuine reflection of me. After I was discharged, we decided to take a break from reality and travelled through Europe. Exploring life outside my advocacy work really opened my eyes; I gained a fresh perspective on life and a new conclusion to my book.
We’re opposites in some ways – she’s an extrovert who loves to entertain, I’m socially anxious and prefer a quiet night at home – but our core values are the same. We’re building a life now in Melbourne and have a baby due in October.
If we do have an argument, it tends to happen in the car. I know I’m the best driver in the world, but she likes to provide unnecessary notes from the passenger seat. Bella’s driving? She’s Larry Leadfoot.
BELLA: Meeting Harri felt like an online fairytale. The partner of one of my friends on The Bachelor sent me a message on Instagram about his campaign. I’d spoken about this online after reading about a case where a sexual offender’s sporting team had written glowing references for him and couldn’t believe this was even a thing. So, I dropped Harri a follow and a DM. He was very professional and our exchanges were always polite, even though I thought he looked hot in his photos. I have a soft spot for gingers.
Then, after recovering from surgery – I’ve had several operations since my cancer diagnosis 12 years ago – I decided to move overseas. While backpacking in Greece, I spontaneously FaceTimed Harri. We spoke for hours; I didn’t realise how late it was in Australia when we finished. I knew then I’d found someone who was as into me as I was into him.
Then Harri told me he was flying over to meet me. My first thought when I opened the door in Rome was how much taller he was than I expected; “I’ve finally snagged myself a tall man,” I thought to myself. It was a bit awkward at first but, after a couple of Aperol spritzes at dinner, we relaxed. I’d organised a pull-out bed for the room because I didn’t want to be presumptuous, but we never used it.
We travelled all over Italy and, at a dinner overlooking the sea in Ischia, said we loved one another. Days later, we got matching tattoos in Italian: mine, on my hand, reads Fortunata in amore [Lucky in love] and Harri’s, on his wrist, says Fortunato al gioco [Lucky at the game].
‘We travelled all over Italy and, at a dinner overlooking the sea in Ischia, said we loved one another.’
A couple of months into living together in London, while he was writing his book, it started to take a massive toll on him. He started spiralling and when I told him to see a doctor, he ended up in hospital. When he was discharged, we walked all the way home, which took over an hour, and we talked about what needed to change. It was a big moment of reconnection for us.
Harri has been a big support to me, too. I’ve had my own experiences of trauma and mental-health issues. Pregnancy hasn’t been easy for me, but Harri now does all the dishes, all the cooking and all the laundry. He’s been an incredible partner.
The thing many people don’t see in Harri, with all the seriousness of his work, is that he’s one of the funniest people I’ve ever met; he does an amazing impression of Anthony Albanese. And the funny thing is, we both think the other is a crazy driver. I’m a safe driver; he’s the lead-foot!
If you or anyone you know needs support, call the National Sexual Assault, Domestic and Family Violence Counselling Service on 1800RESPECT (1800 737 732).
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