On the seventh day DSP Wong, the head of D9 herself, came to see us, and she assured us that they were doing all they could, but the week was up. When the cops moved out with all the phones and wires and tables and chairs, the apartment felt like a tomb.

The shops in the shopping centre were checked again and again. Policemen and women ripped into every nook and corner, every cardboard box, every dumpster, air-con vent, every toilet cubicle, every conceivable space that could hide a child. Cars leaving the parking lot were stopped. Drivers had to step out, car boots opened, torches flashed into every cavity. Bags opened, seats unturned.

The CCTV cameras showed nothing. There was footage of Alba and me walking into the supermarket and then we walked into a blind spot. I felt cursed. The spot where I left her was undetectable. Footage of me running, walking, shouting, but nothing of her. She had simply vanished. When Omar arrived, I was already sedated by a paramedic. My eyes were glazed, fixated upon an invisible spot two feet tall above the ground. He hugged me tightly for all of three seconds then let me go, roughly.

What happened? Del, what happened?

I started shaking. Again, the same story. Recounting it for the tenth time. Then Sumi, Fairman, Papa, the police. All there. Standing together in an awkward line. More police. More statements. They wanted a picture of her. Omar gave them one. I had one in my purse, but he decided the one he had was better, more recent. I could not look at it. That was the beginning of the pain. All I wanted then was a cigarette, so I walked to get a pack from the supermarket. I was in shock. The lady at the counter averted her eyes, as if afraid. I strode out to the entrance and felt all eyes on me. The murky humid night hit. I lit it. As I inhaled deeply I felt my legs give way and I crumbled ungraciously to the floor.

A small child forms a physical attachment to her mother. And vice versa. Alba was like an appendage, a part of my body, like an invisible limb that was hand, leg, nose and mouth combined. She had become a part of me, the smallness of her fitting into the curve of my tummy and my chin when asleep, the weight of her on my chest when she suckled. My limbs felt limp from missing her, from not touching her, feeding her, bathing her, changing her diaper, combing her hair. Her body had occupied mine, and now I was lost.