The bio on the app had been straightforward, almost disarmingly so. “Looking for someone open-minded, cultural explorer type. Coffee first?” No shirtless photos, no overt flexing—just a candid shot of a man in his mid-thirties with a sharp jaw, easy smile, and dark hair cropped close. Simran had swiped right on impulse, his thumb lingering a second too long over the screen. He was rarely out; his life balanced family expectations, temple visits, and the quiet ache of wanting more. But Clive’s messages had been witty, probing without being pushy. “Tell me about your turban game,” one read.

Chapter 2

She sat on the swing with me and the dogs and dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

“That’s very sad. I’ve known Tom a long time, Albert as well, since Tom brought him here. I went to school with Tom and saw how he was bullied. There are a few other girls from that time who still live around the area. I have a key to this house, in case it was needed, which I’ll give you. He had a key to mine.”

“I was just given his keys. Is it on the ring?”

I handed it over and she took a key off it.

“What are you doing, now, Tony?”