Silver Tears(65)

She was used to fighting. She had been fighting since childhood. She had crossed all the lines drawn by people, the justice system, logic. Laws and morals. She had crossed them all without blinking. But now she was lost. She didn’t feel like herself, and she didn’t know how to deal with a Faye who wasn’t on fire.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was probably Ylva calling. But Faye didn’t feel up to it quite yet. Something that Henrik had said in their conversation was gnawing inside her. But she didn’t know exactly what. It was there, just beyond reach in the murky water. Something he had said that she ought to have caught.

The light changed to green. As she crossed the street, she glanced toward one of the waiting cars. A taxi. Through the windshield, behind the driver, she saw two faces she recognized. David and Johanna. Faye averted her gaze and hurried across, reached the pavement on the far side, and came to a stop. The lights changed to green for the traffic and the taxi pulled away. Her heart was pounding in her breast.

Had he seen her?

Before Faye had left the office, she had sent a message to David asking whether he was able to fly home any earlier from his business trip. She wanted to tell him about the takeover, about Henrik, and ask his advice on how to proceed. She wanted to lean against him, bury her face in his shoulder, and hear his calming voice in her ear.

But he had replied that he couldn’t, that he had some things to finish up and that he’d see her when he got home late in the evening. He hadn’t said a word about Johanna. Had she missed something?

Faye pulled out her phone, her hands trembling, and quickly scrolled through their conversation. No, it said there clear as day that he wasn’t coming back to Stockholm until late tonight. Perhaps it was an emergency? Perhaps one of the kids was seriously ill, or had hurt themselves, and he’d had to return home as a matter of urgency…Was that why he and Johanna were in the same taxi?



Faye saw Ylva’s face appear before her and heard the words again.

How well do you know David?

Fuck Ylva. Fuck David. Fuck Henrik.

She clenched her fist so tightly her nails cut into the palm of her hand.

All sorts of things might have happened. She couldn’t blow up right now—not until she had all the facts. She loved David. Everything was so straightforward with him. They wanted to enjoy life, together. To never hold each other back. Could that have made Faye completely blind? Was she going nuts?

She walked on as if in a trance and found an empty bench in Berzelii Park. She could see happy diners at Berns.

Her mobile phone buzzed. She got it out. She saw David’s name as the sender. What a relief—now everything would be explained. Of course it was an emergency.

But when she opened the message and read it, it was like a knife to her gut.

Missing you and can’t wait for tonight. So crappy having to be far away from you. Miss Stockholm, miss you.

Just like that. The words that she had read so often and always believed.

Around her, she saw people hurrying past, going places, together with others. She suddenly wished she were one of them. She suddenly wished she was not Faye.

With her hands shaking, she went on Instagram, searched for Johanna Schiller’s profile, and looked at her posts. A man settled down next to her, cracked a beer can open, and took a swig.



“Nice day,” he said.

“Is it?” Faye replied abruptly.

He chuckled.

She scrolled down through the photos. To the week when she and David had met. It took a while. Johanna was a frequent poster. On some days there were three or four different pictures. Some of them were of David. On a jetty, at the dinner table, in a restaurant, by the barbecue. Smiling, laughing, hugging his daughters, kissing Johanna on the cheek. Happy kids. Sunsets. Beautifully assembled dishes.

Faye’s jaw dropped.

Dinner with my cuties.

My husband surprised us with homemade lasagna.

Barbecue hygge with the family.

Minibreak: the west coast is the best coast.

Each caption followed by at least six emojis.

Faye got out her laptop, opened it, went to her calendar, and compared dates. David hadn’t mentioned going to the west coast. On the date in question, he had been on a business trip. And according to Johanna’s Instagram account, they were not in the midst of a fractious divorce—on the contrary, they appeared to have an idyllic relationship. Of course, social media could tell lies and present an illusion that wasn’t true, paint over the cracks, prettify. But this?

Her heart was pounding in her rib cage. Her stomach was in a knot. She remembered the later stages with Jack.

She pulled up David’s number on her mobile. She had to talk to him, hear his voice, get an explanation. There had to be some mistake.

Faye got his voicemail.

She sent him a text asking him to call as soon as he could.

How blind had she been?

Why hadn’t she returned Johanna’s call or listened to Ylva? Or checked the Instagram account sooner? How could she have been blind and deaf? Again?



She got up from the bench. She knew where David’s office was—or at least where he’d said it was. Did it even exist? She hurried through Berzelii Park, around the corner of Berns, and headed for Blasieholmen, where several of Stockholm’s most reputable financial firms were based. Her phone rang, making her jump. She tugged it out, hoping it was David, but it wasn’t. It was Ylva.