第2章

They arrived a day earlier than planned.

I had just checked out of the hotel and gone back to the flat to pick up the last box. I hadn't made it out yet.

When I heard the key slide into the lock, I was crouching on the bathroom tiles, scrubbing away the darkened bloodstains in the corners with a brush.

They were from five nights ago, when I had collapsed here.

I didn't want whoever lived here next to see them, and I didn't want that blood left on the white tiles my mother, Catherine Lehti, had helped me choose.

Bang.

The bathroom door was shoved open.

Niklas stood in the doorway, his brow furrowed tight, his suitcase still lying on its side in the entryway.

"What are you doing in here? The whole place reeks of disinfectant. Aila started gagging the second she walked in." His voice dripped with contempt. "You pick this exact moment to do a deep clean. Are you trying to make a point?"

I braced myself against the wall and slowly stood up.

I had been crouching for too long. My vision dimmed, and before I could steady myself, he snatched the brush from my hand and tossed it into the sink.

"Open every window and air this place out. She needs to try on outfits later. She can't get a headache from the fumes."

I looked at him and, for a moment, felt dazed.

It had been this same bathroom, four years ago.

I had been curled up beside the toilet, doubled over with menstrual cramps so bad I couldn't stop vomiting, couldn't even stand.

Niklas had been at a conference in Cambridge. When he got my call, he had driven three hours through the night to get back. When he pushed open the door, his eyes were full of panic and tenderness.

He had carried me to bed, rubbed his palms together until they were warm, and pressed them against my abdomen, kissing my forehead over and over. "Irene, I'm here now. You'll never have to go through this alone again."

But now, in the same bathroom, with me in the same wretched state, the first thing he noticed was that the disinfectant smell had made Aila sick.

"I'm talking to you." Niklas's expression darkened when I didn't move. "Did you not hear me?"

"The windows are right there. Don't you have hands?"

His eyes went cold. He was about to snap when Aila's apologetic voice drifted in from the entryway.

"Niklas, maybe I should just stay at a hotel. She probably doesn't want me here."

She wore a deep blue dress suited for the city, a red woven-band shawl draped over her shoulders, and a silver brooch pinned at her chest. Nothing about her outfit was showy, yet it was enough to mark her as Sámi, from one of the communities in the far north.

Her eyes were bright, her expression innocent, as if she genuinely worried about inconveniencing anyone.

"Don't be silly." Niklas went to her in quick strides, his hand settling on her shoulder with easy familiarity. "She's been in a bad mood lately. Don't take it to heart. Feeling less nauseous? Go sit in the living room. I'll get you some warm water."

Two years ago, the day we bought this flat, Niklas had held me the same way, his arm around my shoulders.

He had rested his chin on my shoulder, pointed at the south-facing windows, and said, "This place is going to be just ours. We'll get married here, have children, fill every bookshelf. We'll never be apart."

I could still hear the echo of those words.

Yet here I stood in a bathroom that smelled of blood, watching him guide another woman into the living room where we had planned our entire life together.

After Aila sat down, she looked around curiously, then pulled a small handmade ornament from her bag.

It was a miniature cradle made of soft leather and blue-and-red woven thread, with tiny silver leaves dangling from the edges that chimed faintly at the slightest touch.

She held it out to me, her smile innocent and shy. "I made this myself. Where I'm from, people hang cradles like this in the nursery. It's a blessing for a safe, healthy baby."

"Niklas told me you've been wanting a baby for a long time, but your health has made it difficult. Since this is my first time visiting your home, I wanted to bring you the gift you needed most."

Niklas visibly stiffened.

He cleared his throat and looked away from me. "Aila means well. Just take it. Your health hasn't been great these past few years. You should stop worrying so much and focus on getting better."

I stared at the miniature cradle, and my stomach lurched.

A year ago, the doctor had told me my chances of getting pregnant were slim.

Niklas had held me in his arms, kissed my hair, and said, "It's all right if we don't have children. We can spend our whole lives as just the two of us. You matter more to me than a child we may never have."

Three months ago, when I found out I was unexpectedly pregnant, I had cried in the bathroom for half an hour from sheer joy.

I had bought a pair of the tiniest wool socks, planning to slip them into his suitcase when he came home from the north.

Those socks were still lying at the bottom of a sealed box.

"Why won't you take it?" Aila looked at Niklas, at a loss. "Did I do something wrong? I just wanted you to have a baby of your own."

"Irene, just take it." Niklas's face went dark. "She spent nights making that, and now you're putting on this act. Who is it supposed to be for?"

Suddenly, I smiled.

"I don't need it," I said, each word deliberate. "And I won't be having children. Keep it."

"Irene!" Niklas was furious. "When did you become so cruel? Aila came to London for the first time, walking on eggshells around you. She gives you a gift, and you throw it back in her face. Do you need everyone to know you can't stand her?"

Aila dropped her gaze, her eyes reddening quickly. "I'm sorry. Maybe I really don't understand how things work in the city. I thought wishing a woman a child was a kind thing to do."

Her voice was soft, but she pressed down on the words "in the city" with unmistakable precision.

I looked at her.

That was when I understood: she was not the timid, naive girl Niklas made her out to be.

She knew exactly what she had given me, and she knew exactly how those words would make Niklas take her side.

But I had no interest in exposing her.

I turned, walked into the guest room, and shut the door, shutting out their argument and her tears.

My packed suitcase stood in the corner.

In four days, I would leave England.

None of this would have anything to do with me anymore.