Page 71 of Unravelling: Aria & Crispin
She let them go.
But not the white porcelain hair clip.
It looked like nothing special to most-delicate flowers painted in enamel, a few tiny glints that she now knew were actual diamonds. She had worn it the night of the dinner.
She ran her thumb across its edge as Khalid stood beside her, his silent support soothing her in her turmoil.
"No," she whispered. "Not this."
He said nothing, just gave a small nod.
Another message from Crispin.
I think about your body more than I should. The curve of your hips. That spot at the back of your neck where your hair curls, and the way you sigh when my mouth is there.
When they walked out of the shop, the cold bit her skin, but her bank account was warm and full.
Still, she felt no lighter.
Just...emptied in another way.
Still, thanks to Crispin, money was no longer a source of anxiety. She was, to her quiet disbelief, wealthy.
She stood still for a long moment in the narrow hallway when she got back.
The swell of her lower abdomen had become noticeable. Not to strangers yet, but to her, it was impossible to ignore. There was a sensation of pressure there. She woke twice a night to pee. Her breasts were fuller, nipples darker, more sensitive to the brush of fabric.
She was being rewritten, cell by cell, by a force smaller than the palm of her hand.
Still, another message from Crispin.
One week and two days until my birthday. I've never counted days like this before, not even when I was a kid.
Packing was a strange ritual. Each drawer opened unearthed a memory of her.
A chipped mug from her first café job.
A festival ticket from 2011, when she'd taken Lule on a whim after saving for a month.
Crispin's hoodie, worn thin and soft. She could still smell him on it.
One of his white dress shirts. He had insisted she put it on but not button it up.
A box full of nonsense-storybooks, postcards, cheap bangles, Lule's report cards, the first love letter a boy had written her. All of them tied to laughter, to warmth.
She touched each thing, paused, then made decisions without words.
Yet another message from Crispin.
Saw you walking yesterday in that blue dress I love. I sat in the café across the street. You didn't see me. You looked...peaceful. Like you were lost in your own world. But God, Aria, I wanted to follow.
From the fridge, she pulled down the sonogram. The little grainy jellybean, her child. She gently tucked it in the hidden pocket of her handbag.
Chapter 38
Aria
Later that afternoon, Aria made her way to the fourth door down the hall.
