‘The way he chews. Amanda. His silence. He never asks me a single question. It’s because he doesn’t care about the answers. He doesn’t care about me. He…’ Siri begins to cry softly and I discreetly push the box of tissues closer to her. She doesn’t take one, but wipes at her tears with the sleeve of her chunky-knit purple mohair sweater.

‘Those things don’t sound like little things to me.’

Siri stares at me, then nods, sending more tears streaming down her face. I feel her pain acutely in this moment, and can’t help but think how much pain there is in most relationships, layer upon layer of it, even in those relations that on the surface seem harmonious and healthy. A slightly insensitive comment. A rebuff in bed. The silences between partners when there’s nothing more to say. Little lies that become big lies.

‘So what do you think I should be feeling right now?’

‘Only you can answer that.’

‘But I don’t know. It can’t be normal to never know how you’re feeling?’

‘Not knowing what you feel is a feeling, too, isn’t it?’

‘Hmm.’ She stares out the window for a while and I follow her gaze, watching the brief, gray day fade into a deep, blue afternoon. ‘Do you think it’s ever okay to stay in a marriage when you’re both unhappy?’

‘I think every marriage is different and that only the two people in it can know what is right for them.’

‘I think I need you to advise me here, Dr Moss. I want to know what the recommended course of action is for this sort of thing.’

‘Siri. You know that isn’t my role. And I don’t think there is a recommended course of action.’

‘We’ve been to couples’ therapy before, and that therapist was quite clear about what the various options were. But you… You won’t ever say.’

‘My role is to be here for you and to help you understand how you feel, not tell you what to do.’

‘We have a house together. A house full of things. A grown-up son. A cabin. An apartment in Antibes. I can’t just walk away, I’m trapped—’

‘Siri. We are going to have to continue next week.’

‘What?’ Siri stares at me with a blank expression, as though I were behind a one-way mirror and she only now realized that I’m here.

‘Our time is up, I’m afraid.’