“No. It’s nothing you’ve done.”

I was having trouble looking at him, I didn’t want my derision to show. So I watched the bocce game instead. They were so drunk that the balls ended up all over the place, but they cheered happily anyway. Behind them a little girl fell over on the gravel. Her mom came running over. Wiped the dirt from her grazed knees, picked her up, hugged her.

“Is there anything I can do differently? Maybe you just need some time?”

His voice was thick. What I had said was starting to sink in, and he wasn’t far from tears. I looked around. If he started to cry I would get up and walk away. I couldn’t deal with people crying. I’d had enough tears to last a lifetime.

“No. I’m sorry, but I don’t love you anymore.”

“But I’m so in love with you! You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. The best person I’ve ever met.”

He put his hand on mine. Kneaded it, massaged it. As if that might make me change my mind. As if I was the one who needed comforting, not him.

People’s biggest problem, I realized, is that they project their own sorrows onto other people. Try to share them. They imagine that, because we share the same sort of DNA, we will automatically feel sad about the same situations. Sorrow doesn’t get easier to deal with simply because you share it. Quite the contrary, it gets heavier. And Viktor had no idea what real sorrow was.

“Okay, I get it,” he said, nodding. “But can’t you come home with me and we can talk about this quietly? I can’t handle sitting here with all these people. Let me have one last evening. Just one more. Then you can disappear from my life, and I’ll let you go without any protest. Please . . .”

He was holding my hand so hard it hurt, and I knew I should say no. That it wasn’t going to help him at all. But it was the easy way out, and I took it.

During the short walk to his flat I had time to regret my decision many times, but perhaps the breakup would be easier if I let him get everything off his chest. At the same time I wanted to avoid the difficult conversation that was coming, I didn’t want to hear his declarations of love, his reproaches. He needed answers, but I had none to give him. All I knew was that my heart belonged to someone else and that I had to move on.

No sooner had we arrived at his place than I offered to go and get pizza. I had a feeling it was going to be a long evening, and that we could both do with some food. Viktor didn’t answer. He was sitting perfectly still on his bed with his shoulders drooping despondently.

“I’ll be back soon,” I said, avoiding his reproachful gaze.

I got my wallet out of my bag and closed the front door behind me. I can let him have one last evening, I thought. Then I’m free.

I got back twenty minutes later. Viktor looked at me strangely when I put the pizzas down on the table of his one-room apartment. Almost triumphantly. He was where I’d left him, sitting on the unmade bed, but next to him was something I recognized. My stomach dropped. My diary. Viktor had gone through my bag. My college notepad was there too. The one I made notes in while I studied, and which had recently been filled with childish doodles. Jack’s name in a heart. My name with his surname. Silly. Ridiculous. But there was nothing ridiculous about it to Viktor.

“Now I know who you really are,” he said calmly.

His voice was toneless. Dead. Something inside him had broken.

“I know who you are. The question is, does he know . . .?”

The word he sounded like an accusation. Panic coursed through me. No one could know. My diary described my former life. If the truth came out it would change everything. I would get the same stares I had received back when I was Matilda. I’d be subjected to the same humiliation. No one would look at me the same way again. Especially not Jack.

“You’ve been unfaithful. You’ve slept with Jack Adelheim. I’ve got every right to tell him. Does he know about us? About the fact that you’ve got a boyfriend?”

I knew there was no point trying to explain. It wouldn’t make any difference that we hadn’t slept together, that it had only been a quick kiss.

Viktor looked like a wounded animal, his eyes black with hatred and despair. I realized he was capable of doing anything to get me back. Or to get his own back. To make me feel the same pain that was tearing him apart. He would tell the truth about who I really was, not only to Jack but the whole world. And my new life as Faye would be over. Everything would be over.

My panic was replaced by an icy coldness I recognized from before. A peculiar calm settled on me and I realized there was no alternative. I wasn’t going to let Viktor stop me.

What I felt as I met his gaze was hatred. I had paid a high price to get where I was, and now he was sitting there like some fucking judge. He knew nothing about the pain I had had to endure, the things I had been forced to do, the sights I had seen that I would have to live with for the rest of my life.

But I held all of this inside me. Men were simple. Men were easy to manipulate and Viktor would be no exception. I had done it before and could do it again.

I sat down beside him. Took his hand in mine. Spoke softly to him, warmly, stroked the back of his hand with my thumb. I felt him relax. Against his will.

“You can do whatever you want. I understand. I understand that you’re sad and hurt. But I haven’t been unfaithful with Jack, and I don’t want us to part on bad terms. Let’s do what you wanted. One last evening together. You can have a whole night if you like. A morning. Then you can do whatever you want. Hurt me back if you want to. Tell Jack everything. That’s your right. But I want us to have one last night together.”

I felt him start to relent. He wanted to believe me. Couldn’t turn down one last chance of intimacy. I knew him. I knew men.

We ate pizza and shared two bottles of wine. I only sipped my glass, so Viktor drank most of the wine. We made love on the sofa. He took me hard, roughly. I let him. I closed my eyes and thought of Jack. Conjured up his face in my mind’s eye, forced myself out of my body as Viktor thrust into me, whimpering. Afterward he turned his back on me. I got up and washed, grimacing with pain when I tried to wipe myself. When I got back he was asleep. Nothing was going to wake him now.

I went out onto the balcony and lit a cigarette. The lights above the city were twinkling in the summer night, and I could hear voices, music. When I had finished the cigarette I lit another one. I went in to Viktor, who was lying on his back, snoring with his mouth open. I prodded him. No reaction. He was completely wiped out by the wine and the storm of emotions. I laid the cigarette on the bed, by the edge of the pillowcase, then stood and waited to make sure that the cheap, flammable fabric caught light. At first it only smoldered. Then a flame began to form.

The icy chill I had felt started to fade. Panic crept up on me, hammering at my temples. I turned my back on the flames and hurried to the door. By the time I let it swing shut behind me the bed and curtains were alight.

I felt like I was going to be sick when I emerged into the summer night. The smiling people I passed came far too close, sounded far too loud. I clutched my bag tight. I was free once more and my diary was safely back in my hands.

The pregnancy test had been positive. There was an embryo inside her, a new human being. Half Jack. He had always wanted a son, an heir. Maybe she would be able to give that to him.

Faye ran her hand over her stomach as she sat at the kitchen table, unable to do anything. She realized she hadn’t had anything to eat for hours. Her meat sauce stood untouched on the stove because Jack hadn’t come home yet. There was nothing to stop her eating now. The child needed nutrients to grow. She stood up and walked over to the stove. Dipped a finger in the sauce and found that it was lukewarm. She ladled some pasta into a dish. Drenched it with sauce and ate the whole lot standing at the island. It tasted divine. She closed her eyes and chewed the food as well-being spread through her and her body relaxed. It was so wonderful to eat at last that tears sprang to her eyes.

She would have to put off worrying about her weight until after the child was born. For the time being, her most important job was making sure she got enough nutrition for two.

Just like last time, she would start exercising straight after the delivery, but she would also follow a strict diet once she’d stopped breastfeeding. She wouldn’t let herself be sucked into the baby bubble, and would prioritize Jack and their marriage instead. Their son would be a fresh start, for their relationship and for her as a woman and a wife.

She helped herself to another portion and carried the dish to the table.