As they near Parliament Hill, the surroundings gentrify again. The people in this area are polished, too, dressed in their office attire, marching this way and that, texting at stoplights. Whole blocks buzz with purpose and urgency.

She disembarks at Wellington, crosses the street, and stops to check the time on the Peace Tower, the city’s grandfather clock. Even in the grey weather, the pointed copper roof stands out, green against grey. The Maple Leaf, though, hangs as limp as her sodden scarf. Squinting, she reads that it is a few minutes past noon. The rain has petered out to a fine fog-like mist. She decides to walk the rest of the way. Turning away from the Hill, she points herself westward, in the direction of her building. As she passes the National Archives, she admires the copper statue of the barefoot lovers sitting on a bench, the man grinning into the woman’s hair as though pleased by its scent, and the woman staring straight ahead with a stoic expression, spirited away by her thoughts. How lifelike, Kavita thinks. He doesn’t even notice how far away she is.

A short while later, she arrives at her building, twelve storeys of sandy-coloured brick and generous windows. The bored concierge gives her a nod as she enters. As the elevator rises to the tenth floor, her stomach begins to squirm.

She hears Coal’s kitten-like mewling before she reaches their corner unit. She gently nudges the charcoal tabby aside with the door and catches him before he is able to dart past her into the hallway. He welcomes her with sandpaper licks on her nose and chin. She whispers I love you into the soft fur behind his ears and sets him down.

Nirav will be home in a couple of hours. She has at least some time to settle in on her own. She peels off her damp things and follows Coal along the short entryway to the kitchen, the daytime chill of the dark hardwood seeping through her thin socks. As she leans against the white waterfall island, she peers around the living space, that feels familiar yet foreign to her, after so many weeks away. But it’s all still there, as she had left it: the paprika-red couch, the large cubby shelves, the wall-mounted flat-screen, the coffee table made of glass and a varnished tree stump.