I LAY IN BED writing my diary, recording all my feelings. It was such a liberation that Matilda no longer existed. No one knew her from before. No one knew anything about what had happened. If anyone asked, I told them that my parents were dead. Car accident. And that I didn’t have any brothers or sisters. Which was true enough. I didn’t have any brothers or sisters. Not anymore.

But sometimes Sebastian would come to me in my dreams. Always out of reach. Always just beyond my outstretched arms. I could still smell him when I closed my eyes.

I always woke up in a sweat when I’d been dreaming about Sebastian. I could see him so clearly in my mind’s eye. His dark hair and clear blue eyes. He looked a lot like Dad even though their personalities were so different. It usually took me a while to get back to sleep again.

But my new identity as Faye gave me strength. For the time being I was keeping it secret from Viktor. I wasn’t sure he’d understand. But everyone else got to meet my new, confident self, who had nothing in common with Matilda. My chief concern had been that the letters from prison could no longer reach me. I’d never opened a single one. But I remembered the terror I felt when I saw Dad’s handwriting on the envelopes. Now he no longer knew where I was, he couldn’t contact me. He no longer existed. He belonged to Matilda’s world.

I reached for my handbag, tucked my diary in the inside pocket, and zipped it closed.

If it wasn’t for the dreams I might have been able to believe my own lie about the past being dead and buried. Sebastian came to me at night. Alive to start with, with those penetrating eyes that could see so deep. Then dangling from the rope.

Sunday morning. Faye was hurrying to clear up after Julienne’s breakfast so that Jack didn’t have to see the chaos left in her wake. Okay, she might not actually turn the kitchen into Pearl Harbor, but Faye could see what Jack meant about it not being pleasant to walk into a messy kitchen in the morning.

She had decided not to trouble Jack with the idea of going away for a weekend with Chris. It would only lead to irritation and arguing.

Though she hadn’t wanted to admit it to Chris, she and Jack were going through a rough patch. The same thing happened to all couples. Jack’s work made such colossal demands of him, and she was hardly the first woman in the world to feel that her husband’s job got the best of him. Obviously she wished he had more time and energy. Both for her and for Julienne. But she quickly shrugged off such thoughts. She belonged to the upper echelon of what was arguably the most comfortably off country in the world. She didn’t have to work, didn’t have to worry about the bills, or preschool pickup times or tiresome chores—there was an army of nannies and maids ready to help with everything. She could shop till she dropped and then have her purchases delivered by courier so she wouldn’t have to carry them.

Jack, on the other hand, had a huge number of responsibilities, responsibilities that sometimes made him curt and cold. Toward her, anyway. But she knew it was only temporary. In a few years they’d have more time for each other. They’d be free to make the most of life, go traveling. Fulfill their dreams.

“Do you think I enjoy having to work this hard?” he would say. “Of course I’d rather be at home with you and Julienne, never having to worry about how to pay the bills. But soon it’ll be you and me, darling.”

It may have been a while since he had last said that. But the promise was there. She believed him.

Julienne was lying on the sofa with her iPad on her lap. Faye had connected the wireless headphones so she wouldn’t disturb Jack. He never slept very soundly, so Faye had taught their daughter to be as quiet as possible in the morning.

She settled down on the sofa next to her daughter and brushed a strand of hair from her face, noting without surprise that Julienne was watching Frozen for the thousandth time. She turned the television on to watch breakfast news, with the volume turned down low. She liked feeling Julienne’s warm body against her, the closeness between them.

The bedroom door opened and Faye heard Jack walking toward the kitchen. She listened carefully to his steps, trying to gauge what sort of mood he was in. She held her breath.

Jack cleared his throat.

“Can you come here?” he said in his groggy just-woken-up voice.

Faye hurried into the kitchen. Smiled at him.

“What’s this?” he said, gesturing with his hand.

“What?”

She hated not understanding, the sense that they were failing to communicate. It had always been Jack and Faye. Equals. A team, who knew each other inside out.

“This isn’t the sort of counter you can make a sandwich on,” Jack said, running his hand over the marble. “Not me, anyway!”

He held his hand up. A few crumbs were stuck to his palm.

How could she be so stupid? So careless. She knew better than that.

Faye grabbed the dishcloth. Her heart was beating so hard that it was pulsing in her ears. She wiped away the remaining crumbs, caught them in her other hand, and threw them in the drainer. After a quick glance at Jack she turned the tap on and rinsed the drainer with the dish brush.

She hung the dishcloth up and put the dish brush in the stylish silver holder.

Jack hadn’t moved.

“Would you like coffee, darling?” she asked.

She opened the cupboard containing the Nespresso capsules and automatically took out two of the purple ones, Jack’s favorites. One lungo, one espresso in the same cup, with a dash of frothed milk. Jack liked his coffee strong.

He turned his head and looked into the living room.

“Every time I see her she’s crouched over a screen. You need to make more of an effort. Read to her, play with her.”

A few drops of coffee ran down the white cup. Faye wiped them off with her finger and put the cup in Jack’s hand. He barely seemed to notice.

“You know what Henrik told me? Saga and Carl aren’t allowed to use their iPads more than an hour a day. Instead they go to museums, have piano lessons, tennis coaching, read books. Saga goes to ballet as well, three times a week, at Anneli Alhanko’s School of Dance.”

“Julienne wants to play soccer,” Faye said.

“Out of the question. Have you seen the legs of girls who play soccer? Like tree trunks. And do you want her playing with a load of kids from the suburbs, with dads yelling all sorts of foul language at the referee?”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Julienne won’t play soccer.”

Faye put her hand on his chest and pressed herself against him. She ran her hand down his stomach, toward his groin.

Jack looked at her in surprise.

“Stop it.”

In the shiny glass of the oven door she saw the outline of her pale, pudgy arm. No wonder Jack didn’t want to touch her. She had let herself go for far too long.

Faye went and locked herself in the bathroom. She took all her clothes off and inspected her body from different angles. Her breasts looked depressing. Like tulips that had drooped in a vase. Should she talk to Jack about breast enlargement? She knew Alice had had it done. It was all a matter of doing it tastefully. Not tacky. No beach balls.

It had been a long time since her stomach had been flat, and her legs were wobbly and pale. When she tensed her buttocks, little pits appeared on her skin. Like the surface of the moon.

She raised her eyes. Her face looked hollow-eyed and greasy. There was no glow to her skin or hair, and she couldn’t be said to have an actual hairstyle anymore. When she looked closer at the mirror she noticed a few coarse gray hairs. She quickly plucked them out and flushed them away.

As long as he hadn’t already started to feel ashamed of her. Did he complain to his friends? Had they been teasing him? From now on she was going to eat healthily and exercise once—no, twice a day. No more wine, no fancy dinners, no snacks in the evening while she waited for Jack to come home.

He knocked on the door.

“Are you coming out anytime soon?”

She started.

“In a moment, darling,” she croaked in a thick voice.

He didn’t move, and she began to feel nervous.

“I know I’ve been busy lately,” he said. “What do you say to going out for dinner on Wednesday? Just you and me?”

Faye’s eyes filled with tears as she stood there naked in the bathroom. She quickly put her clothes back on. Her Jack. Her beloved, darling Jack.

She unlocked the door.

“I’d love to, darling.”

—