His scent entered her bloodstream and hit her hard and fast, sharpening her senses, cutting the cord of self-restraint and destroying all logical reasons not to do this. She wanted to press him into her; she wanted to make herself whole again, the way she used to be. The old Jia, the innocent Jia, the one without blood on her hands, the one who was fearless. Her hands moved lower, unbuttoning his clothes, pulling him closer, making him hard, taking him into her. She wanted to lose herself in his smell and make him bend to her will, to control him, own him, make him feel things that only she knew how. And he, in shock from the moment she’d arrived, allowed himself to give in to her will.

Afterwards he lay on the bed, spent, exhausted, still reeling from the shock of it all. ‘Did you find what you needed?’ he said, as she came back to the room from the bathroom.

‘Yes, thanks,’ she said. She was wearing his shirt, and in the faded light she looked exactly the way she had done when they’d first made love. She began to take it off and he wondered if he had the energy to do it all again. But she put on her own clothes.

‘You’re leaving?’ he asked.

‘I can’t stay,’ she said. ‘It’s not a good idea for Ahad to see me here.’ Her directness, the mention of their son, took him by surprise again. It was the first time he had heard her say his name.

‘But this just feels sort of wrong somehow, your leaving, I mean.’

‘It was just sex.’

She was right. But these words, from those lips, were unexpected.

‘How have you changed this much?’ he whispered, intrigued and a little afraid. Because she had changed more than he could ever have imagined. He watched her dress and tie back her hair in that way she used to when they were together. He’d never really stopped loving her. She collected her things and she left, kissing him as she did so, telling him to bring Ahad to the funeral. And in that moment, watching her walk away alone, in the dead of night, the same way she had come, he understood just how broken she was and that he was never going to get over her.

CHAPTER 24

The cups rattled on the tray as the old man set it down with trembling hands, removing the items one by one and placing them in front of Nowak and his guest. Some of the coffee spilled from the pot and he grabbed a cloth, mopping up frantically. ‘So sorry. So very sorry.’ His throat was dry, his words afraid to leave his mouth.