Chapter 4

After Sunday lunch at Julian's parents', I came home to a surprise: my visa had been approved.

In the six months since I'd started the job, I'd been a strong performer for a new hire. The company's international operations were expanding fast, and my manager had taken notice. She'd pushed hard for me to take the São Paulo placement — a year abroad, and a fast-track promotion waiting when I came back.

Mum and Dad had backed me without a second thought, though they couldn't quite understand one thing.

"Why keep it from Julian and his family?" Dad asked.

I smiled. "Because good news deserves to be shared in person."

After the New Year, I came back to London.

Julian was caught up in Cambridge admin — registering for his Sydney modules — and hadn't managed to get to my flat. We'd made plans to see each other on Valentine's Day.

But the afternoon of, his voice on the phone came out halting. "Sophie, I'm sorry — something's come up today…"

I shifted the phone to my other shoulder and kept folding the last of my clothes into a moving box.

"That's fine. Go."

He didn't hang up.

"You're not going to ask what came up?"

Strange.

I'd stopped asking questions like that weeks ago. I thought he'd noticed.

Then, in the background, came Celia's voice.

"Julian — is that Sophie?"

A beat of silence, then: "Hey, you should invite her. It's just a lab send-off, nothing formal. There's room."

Julian said, without turning: "Sophie doesn't really like that sort of thing."

Celia laughed. "Come on. She's not going to let you down in front of your colleagues."

"Why wouldn't I?" I said into the phone.

Of course I'd go.

Because Julian still had a box of things in my flat.

And it was time he came and collected it.

The gathering was at Celia's flat.

When I arrived, Julian was in the kitchen.

The smell hit me first — curry. His curry.

He'd taught himself to make it for our first anniversary, fumbling around the kitchen with the endearing clumsiness of someone who'd never cooked a proper meal in his life. I'd eaten it with my eyes lit up, and he'd wiped a smear of coriander from the corner of my mouth, voice warm: Since our Sophie loves it this much, I'll be making this until we're eighty.

I closed my eyes for a moment. Pushed past it.

"Julian — your things—"

"What?" He turned off the hob and let out a slow breath. "Look, I know today's Valentine's Day. I'm sorry I can't spend it with you. But I'm leaving for a year — some of these people I don't know when I'll see again. Can you just try to understand?"

I opened my mouth to push the point.

He cut me off. "Sophie. Don't ruin this. Whatever you want to say, say it later."

Just then someone emerged from Celia's study, clutching a snow globe.

"Celia, that thing on your shelf is gorgeous — where's it from?"

Celia smiled, eyes curving. "Ask Julian."

Julian glanced at me. "I picked it up for Sophie at the university gift shop. She happened to get one too."

When I didn't react, he pulled me aside and lowered his voice. "That's genuinely all it was. I promise."

I nodded. "Right."

Then I went back to typing a message to my letting agent.

"Sophie." A small frown. "You're not going to say anything?"

My phone rang. The letting agent.

"Hold on — I need to take this."

Good news: someone wanted to view the flat first thing tomorrow.

I needed to get home.

On my way past the kitchen, I saw Julian carrying the curry to Celia, letting her taste it straight from the spoon.

My steps slowed.

Something tightened in my chest. Just for a second.

I finished lacing my shoes by the door.

Julian came over, brow creased. "Why are you leaving? Are you sulking again?"

Celia appeared at his shoulder, face perfectly earnest. "Sophie, please don't misread this — I had oil on my hands, that's all. I asked him to. It was my fault, I'm greedy."

My voice came out flat. "Someone's coming to view the flat. I need to be there."

The colour drained from Julian's face.

"View it — why? Are you moving out? Where?"

"Sophie — something this big, why didn't you tell me?"