He dragged his bag off the bed and let it land on the floor with a thud that surely bruised the house. ‘You know it’s not too late to join me.’ He shrugged on his jacket. ‘Any time at all. I’ll pick you up. Even if it’s just for a week.’

I watched him through my tears. He looked handsome, more so than usual. With a tug of jealousy, I imagined him chatting to a lone woman next to him on the plane. He could be quite the charmer while I was… well, I was stuck at home.

‘Are you coming down?’ he said, pulling his bag to the door with one hand, his cabin bag held aloft in the other.

I blew my nose and heaved myself off the bed and followed him as he clattered down the stairs, one bag scraping against the wallpaper, the other knocking against the balustrades. I winced. Outside, his cab hooted. At the door, Rohan turned and hugged me.

‘Stay safe,’ he said. ‘Order everything online. Get it all delivered. Use Mum if you need to. She’s desperate to be useful. Oh, and don’t forget to get the tree cut.’

I breathed in the smell of him, the warm, familiar scent of his skin and the fresh tang of his cologne, and wished I was the type of woman who’d relish an adventure like the one he was offering; I wished I was the type of woman who’d jump at the chance to go to New York. Grace would, but… I squeezed my husband a little tighter, my head on his chest, but already his energy was moving through the door; his mind moving on to the airport, the trip, New York City. His lips found mine.

‘’Bye, darling. Have fun with Grace.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, and reluctantly I released him with the sense that I was letting not just him, but everything go.

Rohan carried his cases down the path, and I watched as he opened the boot of the taxi, put the bags in one after the other, then climbed in next to the driver. The window buzzed down, he waved, and the car pulled away. I watched until its brake lights came on at the top of Albert Road, the indicator flicking left. As it turned, I raised my hand and waved, but the passenger window was already closed and all I could see was a reflection of the trees that lined the road, like skeletons on the glass.

I closed the front door and turned to face the hall, listening to the sound of its stillness. The house seemed to shift within itself, tightening its walls around me, constricting like a corset, readjusting itself to the diminished energy it now enclosed. The air pressure felt heavier; a weight pushing down on my bones. I couldn’t picture Grace here. Grace in the house. Tonight. My insides were jelly.