The sonographer’s tone had been kind but firm. “Ultrasound can detect a fetal heartbeat in pregnancies beyond eight weeks but there’s no cardiac activity here. I’ll arrange for a doctor to talk through the options available to you.”

“Options?” Carla had asked in a daze.

“We can let things happen naturally or make another hospital appointment for you.”

In the small dim room, Carla and Aaron gripped each other’s hands so tightly it hurt.

She’d opted to return to the hospital, where she’d had an anesthetic administered. When she next woke up, she felt totally empty, as if all her internal organs had been removed, too.

Carla and Aaron had dealt with the miscarriage in different ways. She stayed at home, taking comfort in routine and being close to her friends and family, whereas Aaron went full steam ahead with the plans to move overseas. As they pulled in opposite directions, the invisible threads that held them together strained to the point of snapping.

She remembered that they’d attended a glitzy property industry party a few weeks later, even though Carla said she didn’t want to go. Aaron had kissed her on the cheek and promised they’d only stay for an hour or so.

She’d worn a red satin dress she wasn’t comfortable in and had watched as her husband charmed other people like he didn’t have a care in the world.

After a couple of hours, Carla had tapped on her watch to point out the time, and Aaron responded to her gesture by leaving her at the buffet table while he complimented his boss’s wife on her earrings. Carla had stared at the food and felt as small and shriveled as the sausages on sticks.

She’d raised it with him when they got home. “Did you really have to talk to everyone?” She’d sat down heavily on the bed. “There was no point in me joining you.”

“Just being friendly.” Aaron laughed while hanging up his suit in the wardrobe.

The way he’d dismissed her concern had lit something in Carla’s chest. “You left me standing on my own.”

“You’re a grown woman. You can make conversation, too.”

“It was your event. I didn’t want to go in the first place.”

“I do things for you, too.” Aaron huffed to himself, tipsy after the champagne he’d consumed.

Carla was fully sober at this point and folded her arms tightly. “I’m not going to Canada if you’re acting this way.”

He’d tutted and banged his wardrobe doors shut. “Of course you are.”

“I said I’m not. Perhaps it’s time to choose between me and your job.” She didn’t really mean it but wasn’t able to stop herself blasting the words at him.

“Okay, then,” Aaron had said dismissively before climbing into bed. He’d started snoring within minutes, so Carla had to endure a night of broken sleep.

When he’d tried to hold her the next morning, she’d shoved his hands away. Her body had been stiff as she’d waited for an apology that never came. She’d wanted Aaron to say they weren’t going to Canada any longer, but he’d gotten out of bed and showered without a backward glance at her.

Carla had refused to kiss him when he’d left for work. “If you go to Canada, we’re over,” she’d told him.

“Okay, then,” Aaron had replied, and it became his stock answer for anything to do with their situation. Whenever he repeated Okay, then, blood thumped in Carla’s ears.

They’d soon reached a deadlock, with Aaron gathering his belongings together as if they were both still leaving, and Carla hoping her spiky silences and disinterested conversation told him otherwise. She’d willed him to change his mind, but refused to beg him to stay.

Things continued like this for a couple of months until, one day, she’d returned home from work and found Aaron’s keys and a letter waiting for her on the doormat. He had locked the door and posted them through the letter box.

Since that day, Carla and Aaron had never talked through the buildup to their divorce, and they’d never got closure from each other. His calls to her from Canada had been awkward and so were her replies. She couldn’t even remember which one of them instigated the divorce, and for a relationship full of fire, their split had been remarkably quiet and dull.

Aaron gestured to a waiter in the bistro and ordered two coffees. “I regret taking the job in Canada,” he repeated, his mouth twisting.

Carla began to doubt her actions, as well. Had she been right or wrong not to join her ex-husband overseas? Had she overreacted about the party? Sometimes she even found herself quartering tomatoes rather than slicing them. “I shouldn’t have given you an ultimatum,” she said. “I needed more time to process our loss.”

“I let you go too easily. I was immature and didn’t believe in compromise.”

“I pushed you away.”

“We pushed each other.” Aaron toyed with his knife for a while. “Do you really want to play board games for the rest of your life?” he asked.

A shiver ran down Carla’s back. “How on earth do you know what Tom does?”

“I’m a curious person.” Aaron raised his palms. “I may have looked you up from time to time...”

Carla set her jaw. “I need someone stable and secure in my life. Not someone who packs a suitcase and races off overseas at a moment’s notice.”

“Like you’re doing now?”

Carla slapped a palm on the table, making her cutlery jump. Aaron was the only person in the world who could send her emotions into a tailspin so quickly. She raised her hand and gestured for the check, then took out her purse to pay it.

The waiter brought it over, presenting it on a silver plate.

Aaron whipped the bill off the plate before Carla could reach for it, something he used to do all the time. Another of his bad habits was answering her phone before she could get to it, which also made her fume.

“I said I’d take you out for dinner, and I don’t think you should stay in that hotel tonight,” Aaron said.

“I don’t care what you think.”

“Oh, I think you do. Or else you wouldn’t be here.”

They both folded their arms and shared fiery stares.

“Look,” Aaron said eventually, his voice softening. “I have access to a new penthouse in the city. It’s been freshly renovated and is ready to go on the market. Why not stay there tonight instead?” He took a plastic key card from his pocket and showed it to her.

Carla shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

“Please,” he said. “I want to know that you’re safe. At least let me walk you back to your hotel, so we can check out the area together.”

Carla looked into the eyes of the man who’d once been her husband, the man who’d made her toes tingle when she’d kissed him, who could make her laugh and cry at the same time, and the last person in her search who could still possibly mean something to her.

And she ended up saying yes.

Twenty-Seven

Croissants

There was something decadent about waking up in a strange room, especially a luxurious one with a chandelier and a king-size bed. The Egyptian cotton sheets were fine and soft beneath Carla’s fingertips, and she noticed one of the silk cushions on the bed still had its price tag attached. She could hear traffic and birdsong outside and glimpsed dozens of rooftops through the intricate iron railings of the balcony.

With some reluctance, she eased herself out of bed and padded across the polished wooden floors toward her en suite bathroom. It was the size of her living room at home and featured a pink rolltop bath with gold feet. Luxury toiletries sat on every surface and Carla poured a generous glug of rose-scented bain moussant into the water while she ran a bath.