And I’d known. I’d known he had a crush on her. I’d actually acknowledged that. And looking at her today and how vulnerable she still was—you could see her flinch if there was a sudden noise, see the desperation to be liked, as though we could ever be friends now—and I knew that Harry had needed that. He’d told me once in an argument that got out of hand, years ago, that I was too strong. I hadn’t understood, hadn’t thought a woman could be too strong. I’d built up my strength, thinking it was an asset, but now I knew he must have loved being needed by Ruby. He’d always known I could manage without him: I wouldn’t want to, but I could.

He was right.

In our bedroom I saw the tangled sheets from the hours we’d spent making love the night before and suddenly everything was clear. When I first saw Harry with Ruby at the airport, all I’d wanted was revenge on her. But why her? He was the one who’d betrayed me. That night with Tom, both of us wanting revenge against our partners, coming together in an ugly mix of solace and revenge, it was Ruby I’d fixated on.

I was wrong.

And since then I’d thought that it was obvious Harry and I were destined to be together. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. I’d rewarded him for his betrayal with love and affection and more sex than we’d had in years.

On the dresser were my new yoga clothes, bright and soft and hopeful. I pulled them to me, held them to my belly. I could feel the difference there now. Almost see the difference. In a few weeks’ time I would feel the first stirrings. A flutter. Harry and I had been reading my books on pregnancy and just last night when we lay in bed and talked about the future, he pushed up my pajama top and brushed his eyelashes against my skin.

“That’s what it’ll feel like,” he’d said. “I can’t wait.”

And, like a fool, I’d rolled over and kissed him, and made love to him as though he was something special. Precious. I was so relieved to have him back that I hadn’t realized that when something precious breaks, no matter how much you want to, you just can’t put it together again without noticing the difference. It’ll never be the same. You will always see the tiny fine lines that shoot out from the damage; they will deepen and spread and can’t be repaired.

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