Cole arrived hours later and took her home from the hospital. His face was pinched, wan. He was the one who cried, strangely, even as Naomi’s eyes stayed dry. He kept apologising, over and over. Naomi grew tired of saying “it’s all right, it’s not your fault.” Why was she the one offering comfort?

He held her hand the whole plane ride, and his palm was clammy. She resisted the urge to pull it away.

He carried their bags up to their apartment in Houston and helped her on the stairs. She leaned on him. The pain was lessening, but every step still echoed in a stab in her abdomen. She wanted to sleep, to forget. Cole hovered, offering her drinks, or food. When she snapped at him to leave her alone, his face shut and he closed the door with a slap. She opened her mouth to call after him to apologise, but she was too grateful to be alone.

She slept more than she ever had in her life. Over twelve hours a day. A few sleeping pills to chase away consciousness when she was awake long enough for her mind to start spinning again.

A week later, Cole urged her to sit up, to dress. It was their one-year anniversary—he’d made the reservations months ago. Wouldn’t a good meal help?

She squeezed herself into a black dress, painted her lips blood red. Cole was in better spirits and kept up a steady flow of conversation as Naomi picked at her pasta and drank one too many glasses of the expensive, thick red wine.

When they were back at home, alone, she opened her mouth to tell him. That she’d known about the pregnancy, that if her body hadn’t rejected it, she would have ended it the same day. She should tell him about the diagnosis, warn him that years later, their expected path might not be as smooth as they’d planned. Before she could, his mouth was on hers, his fingers trailing down her arm, her torso. The bleeding had stopped, only the barest tenderness remaining, and so she let him unpeel the dress, let it crumple on the floor. Lost herself in the lines of his body. If Naomi was honest with herself, those wordless moments had always been the best part of their relationship—their bodies understood each other. It was the words that got in the way. The expectations.