All that week, until dinner with her mother, Kala half-expects Wolfgang to reappear somewhere. It seems too coincidental, too contrived, that he ran into her at the coffee shop. She finds herself on edge, especially when she goes to work: He may not know where she lives, but surely he knows or can guess she still works at Rasal Pharmaceuticals. The company is no longer where it was when they were dating, but it's certainly not difficult to find.

When Saturday arrives, she's conflicted that he hasn't materialized out of nowhere: As angry as she would have been if he'd returned, Kala admits to herself that she wants to know.

Against all reason, she wants to hear Wolfgang explain why he left her: why he never even thought to let her know he was ok until 2 weeks had passed; why he sent Will instead of telling her himself. She wants to know why, if he really came back, he didn't return to their flat when she'd waited there for him.

She wants to hear what he has to say because there's still a part of her that wants to believe he isn't a deceptive, lying ass. That wants to believe he really loved her as much as he said he did. It had been such a blazing, all-consuming thing, it seemed like it would last forever. She had never been more certain of something her entire life.

And she wants to know what he has to say about the pictures.

When Kala feels weak and sentimental, she reminds herself of those pictures and how they made her feel. Everything else might be explained away, but there's no excuse for the pictures.

She thinks of that often. Because lately, all she can think about is how much she had loved him. And what a huge disappointment he'd been.

…...

Her father is in the hospital for a week. Kala visits him after work every day.

During one such visit, he tells her she doesn't need to put herself out so much to see him: He's well aware that the commute from her lab to the hospital is not ideal. Kala tells him it's ok; she gets a ride from her friend. The blush that crosses her face when she says that is enough to make Sanyam raise his eyebrows.

"Oh?" he asks, curious. Kala blushes even harder. "Next time your friend brings you, I would like to meet this friend."

She's a grown woman, but Kala feels like a child when her father fixes her with that look. "Actually," she confesses in a hushed voice. "He's coming in about an hour to take me home."

"He?"

"Yes."

Sanyam nods, looks questioningly at his daughter. "Rajan?" he asks, and his voice is hopeful.

Kala shakes her head. "No Dad. Not Rajan."

Sanyam nods again, looks thoughtful before he smiles gently at Kala. "I'd like to meet your friend."

She messages Wolfgang to come up to the hospital room when he arrives to get her. An hour later, he is there, nodding politely to her father. If Sanyam is surprised, he doesn't show it. Instead, he extends his hand; Wolfgang shakes it with gentle firmness.

"Thank you for bringing Kala here every night," says Sanyam. His voice is strong, even if his grip is weak.

Wolfgang gives a quick smile. "It's no problem at all, sir." He steps back a little, stands beside Kala. "I hope you're feeling better?"

Sanyam nods, openly assesses Wolfgang. Kala holds her breath; he looks as if he is about to ask all sorts of embarrassing questions: How did they meet? What does he do for a living? Is he dating Kala? She can feel her face alternate between ice- cold fear and a burning humiliation.

But instead, Sanyam merely lies back against his pillows. "I'm feeling much better, thank you," he says, and smiles at Kala, eyes bright with laughter, fully aware of her discomfort.

"I'll see you again tomorrow, Kala?" he asks.

"I'll make sure to bring her," says Wolfgang.

Sanyam glances back at him and smiles. "That is kind of you. Perhaps, when I'm better, you can stop at our restaurant so I can thank you properly."

Wolfgang smiles, and its sincerity is so obvious that Kala steals a glance at her father to see his reaction. Sanyam visibly relaxes. "I would love to do that, sir."

Kala has never been more grateful to her father, or been more enthralled by Wolfgang.

...

Kala is of two minds before dinner with her mother: She wants to ask Daya about Wolfgang, even knowing her sister will be annoyed. She wants to know if he still lives at the loft they'd shared. She wants to know who picked him up from the hospital.

The Ethiopian restaurant is small but neat and full of character, it's cheerful yellow walls covered by colorful local art. The food is also very good, and conversation is pleasant and lively, noting many similarities with Indian cuisine: Daya is already taking pictures of dishes to post. Their mother smiles, shakes her head: She'd never understood the social media interest motivating pictures of food, even as her children show her positive reviews of the Dandekars' old restaurant, featuring beautifully plated restaurant is now owned by a family friend.

During a lull in the conversation, Kala's mother asks if she's still thinking of leaving her job.

Kala hesitates for the merest moment, nods slowly, and admits she has a job offer from a company in Canada.

"Canada?" Her mother purses her lips, looks accusingly at Daya, who stares back innocently, before she turns her attention back to Kala. "But why? Is it the divorce? Is Rajan making things difficult?"

"No." Kala taps the edge of her cup. "Rajan has been very good."

"Of course he has," says her mother. Priya shakes her head, questions - for the millionth time - Kala's sanity in divorcing Rajan for no apparent reason: She doesn't understand what "irreconcilable differences" really means; there has never been a divorce in their family. Ever. She wonders what Rajan did, what Kala did, that was so horrible that they cannot remain married.

"You were so lucky to marry him after living with that other boy," she says, her face creased with worry. Neither Kala nor Daya mention to their mother that they've seen, let alone spoken to, Wolfgang. While their father had liked Wolfgang, their mother does not, convinced that Wolfgang corrupted Kala. "Rajan was so understanding."

"Mom," says Kala, a warning in her tone.

"Maybe if you'd had children," Priya continues, deliberately oblivious. "Children would have made things better."

Kala stiffens, catches her lower lip with her teeth. Daya shoots her a nervous glance. It is not the first time they've heard this, and it is doubtful it will be the last. Their mother had been a vocal and persistent advocate for grandchildren from the beginning, even when it was obvious that both Kala and Rajan were uncomfortable discussing such a personal topic.

"Children would have made things better."

Maybe her head is too full thinking about the past; her mother's comment usually brings about a respectful, but clipped retort from Kala.

But tonight, the words sting. Kala cannot shake off how the words make her feel.

A little girl with your large, dark eyes and wild black hair? Or a little boy with your beautiful smile and silly, silly laugh?

She can still hear the echo of those words, murmured quietly into the night. But they weren't said with Rajan.

Daya redirects the subject. Priya allows herself to let go of the sore topic.

Kala takes a deep breath, grateful for her sister's intervention.

After dinner, she doesn't bring up Wolfgang to Daya.

During the following week, Kala comes home from work to search the Internet seriously for places she'll want to look at in Toronto. If she doesn't do that, she folds large boxes and begins to pack.

There's a lot of packing. She moved into her apartment 6 months ago, shortly after asking for the divorce. She'd always liked the old Lakeview neighborhood, even though Daya no longer lives there. Kala had thought she'd stay for awhile, so there are tons of personal touches she now needs to wrap carefully and put in boxes. Again. It gives her something to think about besides Wolfgang and why he's back. Or why he wants to talk now. Or why she's heard nothing more. Or why she's still obsessing.

That Friday, Kala finally tells Rajan about the new job, tells him she's quitting. She put off saying anything, knowing he will protest. But Kala feels a renewed sense of urgency to get on with it: leave the city like she should have done years ago.

So on Friday, Kala resigns herself to the unavoidable and sees Rajan shortly before she leaves work.

The meeting goes as well as expected: Rajan is aghast.

They're in his office, sharing the small sofa at the corner. It's been half an hour since she came in to tender her resignation.

Rajan hasn't stopped talking since she finished her rehearsed speech.

He tries to convince her to stay with the company. If she feels the need to just get away, he'll be happy to put in a transfer to any of their other labs. He even offers to pay for her relocation, concerned that she won't have enough money to do so on her own since she is not collecting any spousal support: Her lawyer had been horrified by that. Kala had literally walked away from millions.

Kala reaches to cover his folded hands in hers. "You don't owe me a thing, Rajan," she says. "You've been more than kind. I don't need a transfer; I agreed to take this job because they made a very good offer."

"Do you even know anyone in Toronto?" he asks, concern etching his face.

"No." Kala sits back and laughs a little at his expression. "That's the point, Rajan. I'll be fine." Her face softens. "And so will you."

He frowns back at her, his dark eyes clouding.

He would have been perfectly content still married to her, even knowing she doesn't love him, not in the way he loves her: passionately, unconditionally. Kala had spent many nights over the years trying to will herself into loving him like that; trying to be worthy of him because he'd taken her, knowing she couldn't love him back, at least not right away. She made him happy for a time. She tried her best.

"When will you leave?" he asks her.

"I don't start for two months. There are legal details to iron out, like a work visa or whatever the Canadian equivalent is, and practical things too, like finding a place to live. But I'll be leaving here at the end of the month."

He nods. "Ok," he says simply, finally, maybe a little convinced that she won't change her mind. Still: "But you can always come back."

Kala gets up, smiles softly at him. "I know. Thank you."

They've been divorced officially for only a couple of months, but she loves him in her own fashion, and she knows her continued presence here won't help him. It is time to set them both free; Rajan is too honorable to do it.

Rajan escorts her out of his office, past the covertly interested glance of his assistant. He asks Kala if she would like to have dinner. She turns him down. It's late, and she just wants to go home. He offers to drive her, already following her to the elevator, but she insists she's fine. She has her own car. When the elevator comes, they both get on, but Kala gently pushes him out as the doors close.

She's still smiling when she gets off on the ground floor, swipes her key card to get through the turnstile, and says goodnight to the security guard on duty. But she pauses before exiting the glass doors of the lobby.

"Company must be doing ok. This place is big."

Kala breathes deeply, composing her startled features into one of disapproval. She watches Wolfgang, who gets up from a bench by the automatic glass doors. He looks weary. She wonders how long he's sat and waited; she's later than usual.

"Look," he says, walking slowly towards her. She notices a slight limp and frowns. "I've been thinking since last week. Thinking non stop. And I can't -" He shrugs, frowns back at her. She says nothing. "The problem is I can't stop thinking. After 5 years, it all comes back, and I don't like to know you think I just abandoned you. You've thought that this whole time. We need to talk. We should talk."

She's afraid to ask what he means: "It all comes back."

"Wolfgang." Kala doesn't know what to think. She'd been convinced she wouldn't see him again. Maybe.

"Before you say anything," he says, and his eyes are guileless, focused solely on her, "can we just have coffee or something? I know you don't want to see me, but what you said the other day, at the hospital...I don't get it. So. Let's have a coffee and just talk. Not long."

Kala stares back at him, arms crossed protectively over her chest. She vacillates between the old anger and the new curiosity.

Wolfgang shrugs, self conscious when she doesn't say anything after awhile. He draws back a little. "If you're too angry, then, I guess..." He nods his head stiffly. "I'll leave you alone. I'll go away forever if you tell me you want me to. I'm just asking you not to. Not just yet."

She should be upset that he's come to the lab, after all, but she isn't really. Because even though every rational thought in her mind tells her to stay away from him, that she will never forgive him for what he did, there's a part of her that stutters awake because he's back. Awake and alive for the first time in a long time. And because she doesn't lie to herself, Kala admits she wants to believe that what had been the headiest months of her life weren't all one-sided. She wants to know. All of it.

"Ok," she finds herself saying. "There's a coffee shop just west of here. Did you drive?"

He looks relieved. Wolfgang nods. "I'm parked outside."

Kala walks outside with him, follows him to a newer car, black sedan but sporty. Foreign. Expensive. He unlocks the doors but she shakes her head.

"I'll pull my car around," she says, taking out her own keys. You can follow me."

Wolfgang hesitates, concerned she won't really come around, but Kala already walks away.

He watches her for a moment before he moves around to the driver's side and gets in to wait for her.