‘Hmmm.’ Rav looks washed out, his skin sallow. ‘A little. Can I use the bathroom first? I have an early meeting.’

I glance at the clock – it is barely six thirty. Early even for him. I hear the shower run, and the baby starts to grizzle so I lift him gently from the cot and pull up my nightshirt. I am still feeding when Rav comes back in.

‘I’m off. I won’t be late back this evening.’ He leans over and kisses the baby’s head but doesn’t kiss me. He smells of tangerine shower gel and a fresh citrusy aftershave. There is nothing odd that I can tell in his tone, it’s as if it’s business as usual. The only way I know he isn’t his usual self is his failure to mention our evening out last night – he always thanks me the day after, whenever we have an evening meal or drinks out, and he has done ever since our first date, on a hot, sandy beach in Goa. Instead, he says, ‘Don’t forget you have a doctor’s appointment at eleven thirty.’

‘I won’t.’ I keep my eyes on the baby’s face as I feel Rav pause in the doorway.

‘See you later then.’ And a few seconds after, the front door slams.