Page 60 of Unravelling: Aria & Crispin
"The vegetarian wrap, please," she told the man behind the counter. "No egg."
She sat by the window and waited, palms pressed to her thighs, feet twitching in her worn boots.
She was still shaky, still a little stunned, but her mouth curved into something close to a smile.
She had made it out.
And now, maybe, just maybe, she was about to start something new.
Aria took another bite of the wrap-cool avocado, the crunch of shredded carrot and cucumber, the burst of sweet roasted pepper, and the tang of tomato all coming together on a soft flatbread. It wasn't meat, so the baby didn't protest for once.
Her phone rang just as she was folding the last bit into her napkin.
"Miss Bektashi?"
"Yes, speaking."
"This is Linda from SwiftClean. I have good news. The family in Chelsea can see you today if you can get there in the next thirty minutes."
"Yes," Aria said quickly, already grabbing her bag. "Yes, I'll be there."
"Perfect! Give me a moment and I shall text the address to this number, alright?"
She was out the door and down into the tube in record time, heart picking up pace again-this time from urgency, not panic. She found a seat and tried calling Lule, but the call rang out. She left a voice message anyway, low-voiced in the carriage hum.
"Hey. Got a last-minute interview. Private townhouse in Chelsea. Looks like regular hours, decent pay. I'm okay. I'll call you after."
Across from her on the tube, a couple nestled into each other. They were probably in their early twenties-young, in love, and completely unaware of the world. The woman's bump was unmistakable, her fingers tracing idle circles over the fabric of her dress. Her partner had one arm around her and was reading from a bright yellow book with cartoonish lettering.
Aria squinted at the title, mouthing the words slowly, the way she always did with longer ones. The cheerful yellow cover was titled 'What to Expect When You're Expecting... He is not ready, either.'
Her mouth turned up at the edges in a wistful half smile. It was ridiculous and oddly sweet. She imagined browsing the baby aisle with Crispin, maybe debating between pastel blue or neutral green.
A twist of longing bloomed inside her chest.
She should tell Crispin. He was the father, and he deserved to know. But what then? What about his family, his mother? What about Helga, whose shadow seemed to hover over them like the forerunner of doom?
Aria looked at the floor, as if the answers might be there. Her hand settled low across her stomach in a protective gesture.
By the time she reached Chelsea, her thoughts had curled tight inside her again like a secret.
She reached Chelsea ten minutes ahead of schedule. It was a slow walk through streets with perfect hedges and polished, imposing, glossy front doors. She left another voice message for Lule, this time sharing the address. It was a small ritual between them whenever either wandered into new parts of town or unfamiliar situations.
The townhouse stood at the end of a short row in a cul-de-sac with immaculate cream walls and gleaming windows. She reached for the bell, then paused.
The knocker caught her eye. It was a sculpted brass woodpecker, sleek and detailed, its head cocked to one side, as if in mid-peck. Aria's lips quirked and on impulse, she lifted it and knocked twice.
A few seconds passed. Then a minute, then another.
She stepped back, feeling the invisible eyes of a doorbell cam watching. Her hands fidgeted.
At last, the lock clicked and the door opened.
Standing there was a man in his early sixties, tall and trim, dressed casually but expensively. A head of thick grey hair and the kind of teeth only money or good genes could provide. His eyes were sharp, but not unkind.
"Mrs. Bektashi?"
"It's miss actually," Aria said, smoothing her jacket.
