‘Allie? What are you doing?’ Rav is beside me, his arms wrapped around his bare torso against the persistent chill that swirls about the landing, no matter how warm it is outside. ‘God, you’re freezing.’

I press my hand to my face, feeling the chill of my fingertips, white in the milky moonlight, against my hot cheek. ‘I didn’t realize how cold it was.’

‘Come to bed, come on. You’ll catch your death out here. I’m going to call a guy, get someone in to sort these windows out before the winter.’ Rav takes my elbow and begins to steer me towards the bedroom. I stop, the thought of lying next to him, thinking over the message thread between him and Naomi, like nails catching on my nerve endings. Sharp and raw.

‘Wait …’ I stop him before he can lead me any further. ‘The baby is going to be up again soon, you’re going to be exhausted for work.’

‘I’m more worried about getting you back into bed and getting warm at the moment.’ He rubs his hand briskly over my shoulder, and I stifle a wince, my skin feeling as if it is snagging on his.

‘I’m OK, I didn’t mean to wake you up.’ I form the lie before he can ask me what I was doing. ‘I got up for a glass of water, and there was a fox in the garden. I was just watching him.’ To his credit Rav doesn’t pull me up on the fact that I don’t have a glass of water in my hand. ‘I can catch up on my sleep when Mina is at preschool tomorrow, but you can’t. Maybe you should sleep in the spare bedroom tonight?’

Rav opens his mouth as if to speak before thinking better of it. He nods slowly, removing his hand from my shoulder. ‘If that’s what you want.’

‘Just for tonight. So you can catch up on your sleep.’ Before he can respond, I go to the cupboard that holds the spare sheets and towels and start looking for a fresh set.

Rav is already in the spare room when I bring in the sheets, standing in front of the unmade bed. We haven’t really used this room at all, and haven’t even begun to start decorating it, focusing instead on the living room, the bathroom, and Mina’s bedroom when we first moved in. The carpet is threadbare, the walls uneven and lumpy, with old curtains hanging at the windows, the fabric so thin they barely keep the morning light out. It’s not very inviting and for a moment I feel a shard of guilt until I remember the WhatsApp thread.

‘Here.’ I shove the duvet cover towards him and yank the pillows off the bed.

‘I thought this was a spontaneous event,’ Rav says, with a trace of bitterness in his voice.