Chapter 5: What Carla Saw
Carla lived twelve minutes away, in the same neighborhood where we'd grown up.
Her kitchen always smelled like the candles she burned while she cooked, and when I came through the door she already had wine poured and pasta on the stove, and she didn't say anything except "Sit" — so I sat.
She put a bowl in front of me.
She sat across from me.
She waited until I'd eaten half of it before she started talking.
"It was a Thursday," she said.
"Three weeks ago.
I was meeting a friend at Rosario's — you know the place on Clement, the one with the green awning."
"I know it."
"I was early.
I was waiting outside and I saw them come out of the wine bar next door." She paused.
"They were laughing.
She had her hand on his arm.
He was looking at her the way—" She stopped.
"Say it."
"The way he used to look at you."
I kept eating.
It was easier to keep eating.
"Did he see you?"
"No.
They turned the other direction.
I stood there like an idiot for probably two full minutes just watching them walk away." She refilled her wine glass.
"I took a photo."
I looked up.
"I didn't know if I'd ever use it.
I just — I needed to know I hadn't imagined it." She reached for her phone, turned it toward me.
The photo was slightly blurry, taken from behind.
But it was Finn.
His jacket, the one I'd given him for Christmas two years ago.
And beside him, a woman — taller than I'd pictured, dark hair, her hand looped through his arm like it belonged there.
I looked at it for a long time.
"Keep it," I said.
"Nora—"
"I don't mean I want to use it against him.
I just mean — keep it.
In case I start to doubt myself.
In case I start thinking maybe I imagined how bad this was."
Carla set the phone face-down.
"You didn't imagine it."
"I know.
But I might need reminding."
She was quiet for a moment.
Then: "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know yet.
I told him I need a few days."
"And then?"
"And then I decide whether there's anything left to save." I pushed the bowl aside.
"He said he felt like he was losing me.
To the babies.
To exhaustion."
"That's his excuse?"
"That's his explanation.
I don't think he meant it as an excuse.
I think he genuinely believed it."
"Nora.
You had eight-month-old twins."
"I know."
"You were keeping two babies alive.
You were running on nothing.
And his response was to find someone who had energy for him."
"Yes."
Carla shook her head slowly.
"That's not losing you.
That's not being willing to wait."
"No," I said.
"It isn't."
We sat with that for a while.
Then her phone buzzed on the counter.
She glanced at it and her expression changed — just slightly, just enough.
"What?" I said.
She turned the phone toward me.
It was a message from a number I didn't recognize.
But the words were clear enough.
*Tell your sister to be careful.
Finn isn't the only one keeping secrets.*
I stared at the screen.
"When did this come in?" I asked.
"Just now."
"Do you know who sent it?"
Carla shook her head.
"I've never seen that number."
I read the message again.
*Finn isn't the only one keeping secrets.*
"What does that mean?" Carla said.
I didn't answer right away.
Because something had shifted at the back of my mind — a small, cold thing, like a key turning in a lock I hadn't known was there.
I thought about Dana calling back twenty minutes after Finn said he'd ended it.
I thought about the way he'd reached for the phone before stopping himself.
I thought about four months.
And the portrait.
And *tonight was everything.*
"I think," I said slowly, "there's more to this than one woman."
Carla looked at me.
"What do you mean?"
May you like
I picked up my own phone.
"I mean I think I've only seen the part he wanted me to see."
