“He was the AD for a big company,” Maeve says. “Artistic director. Iain. Everything was fine when he was working. When he was home—” That pins-and-needles prickle at her temples, her wrists. She shakes her head. “When I left him, I thought he might kill me.”

She looks down at the scar along her hand. For a second, she’s back in that studio, shards of broken mirror lying on the floor.

I fell in love with your dancing, Maeve. How are you going to dance now?

“I used to try and fight back. That was the problem. I was all muscle in those days, you’d think I’d be able to hold my own. Wouldn’t you? Think I’d stand a chance?”

For once, Anna has lost her spirit. Her mouth is set, grim.

“Baby, no—”

“Spoiler: It wasn’t even a tie. It wasn’t even close.”

“But he’s not there now?” The grim expression turning to alarm.

“No.” Maeve plays with the key in her hand. “No, he’s dead.”

Anna raises her eyebrows.

“That’s what I mean. I did leave him, finally. Three years ago,” Maeve says. She’s talking quickly now. “But it didn’t solve anything. He wouldn’t agree to a divorce. The kids and I had to move every few months just to get away, and he’d always follow. He used to sit outside my house, look in the windows. Just to scare me.” Maeve presses her lips together. “People think that only happens in bad neighborhoods.”

She lifts her shoulders, takes a breath: she didn’t know she needed to tell this story, not in the midst of all this. The chaos of the avalanche opening the door to old fear.

“But then he died—” she says. “Four months ago. And now everything is solved. It’s weird, to be honest.”

Anna shakes her head, taking the story in.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I think?”

“I don’t know how to feel. He died in a shooting. Just coincidence,” Maeve says. “I mean, it’s crazy if you think about it. All those years I couldn’t get away.”

She takes a breath. Holds up her hand, flashes the scar on her palm.

“The day after I left him. I had just started working again, secretly, and he followed me to the studio. Knocked me around a bunch. But then—” She pauses. “Then he kicked a mirror in. The whole thing shattered. And for a second, everything stopped. Glass everywhere, like daggers. I could see myself in the mirror, from across the room, just lying there. I had a piece of it in my hand. It was like he’d given me a weapon.”

She shakes her head.