I was doing a load of laundry one rainy afternoon, and I buried my face in one of his shirts, just for some kind of connection. I leaned on the warm dryer, holding it to my cheek, when I smelled it.

Perfume.

And it definitely wasn't mine. I tended more toward florals, things that smelled clean and light. This was something obviously expensive, heavy and cloying. I threw it in the washing machine like it was hot, like it would burn me.

And the next day, upon opening my laptop, I saw the photos. Of Teddy, laughing, with Jennifer Jordan on his arm. She was wearing something slinky, showing her leg up to the hip, thigh gap on full display, curves of her perfect miniature breasts clearly visible. She looked confident and glamorous as she leaned into him.

"Theo Shelley and Jennifer Jordan tonight entering Club Larchmont for the launch of her make-up line, 'JenniJ Cosmetics'," read the caption. "One old friend showing support to another? Or is something being rekindled?" I couldn't bring myself to read any further, though I saw a picture of Teddy and me a little further down, and I knew my name came up.

What the actual fuck? Was I supposed to confront him, ask about it? He obviously didn't want to, seeing how he hadn't said anything to me. Should I move out, preempting any confrontation or painful revelations? I had no idea. My worst nightmare, of being stuck in England with no options, had actually come to pass.

Teddy walked in and I quickly closed my laptop, hoping my face looked normal. He smiled at me, a small and formal one, as he sat far away from me and picked up his own laptop. He had to know I'd see the photographs, didn't he? But he didn't say a word, and was gone like a puff of smoke minutes later, up to the music room once again.

I was losing my mind. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. And Teddy came up with excuses that got thinner and thinner for why he was staying away from the house and from me.

I stopped asking about dinner, and we stopped spending our evenings together watching movies. He stopped coming to bed with me, and eventually he stopped coming to bed altogether. He said that he didn't want to disturb me because he was coming and going at such odd hours, so he just started sleeping up in the music room.

"I saw some photographs of your friend the other day," Richard said conversationally. We were taking a break from the odious third movement, which had made me so frustrated I'd nearly begun to cry.

"Oh?" I kept my face neutral. I knew who he was talking about, though I didn't know which photos.

"Yes. He was with Jennifer Jordan, I think her name is? Model or something?" He looked at me in query. "He has some very famous friends indeed." He grinned. "I looked through all the photos, actually. Thought I might see you, you know? They were at a club or something, forget the name of the place."

"Yes, he has to do a lot of publicity stuff," I responded, sounding pretty normal, considering my internal turmoil.

"This just looked like a party or some such," he responded. "Lots of drinking and merriment." He shook his head. "Night clubs not your thing, then?

"Diamonds! That was the name of the place," he said. "God, I'm so old! Thank god, I don't think I could keep up with that lot."

Diamonds? So this was a different occasion than the pictures I'd seen. Great. I could feel myself getting a little woozy on the bench.

"Are you feeling okay?" Richard leaned forward, concern etched in his kind features. "Need some water?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm fine, but I am a bit tired," I lied. "I think maybe we should call it a day, if you don't mind?" I rose and gathered my things.

"Of course, of course," he responded. "We'll see you next week, then?"

I nodded and got out of there, grateful I hadn't thrown up in front of him. I browsed my phone while in the car, unable to help myself.

She was in a mini-skirt this time, along with a clingy black shirt, smoothing her hair back, sitting in his lap, his hand casually draped across her thigh. And there was a photo of them leaving the club, hands clasped.

"Could you pull over, please?" I asked my driver. "I'm not feeling well." I opened the door and just sat, hoping I wasn't going to empty my stomach on a busy street in downtown London. My driver, Reggie, came around, concerned, but I waved him back, and we made it home without any other mishaps.

I needed to confront him, ask him what was going on, but I was too afraid. I didn't want to know. And the boys seemed so sure of Teddy and me as a couple that it didn't even occur to them to ask what was up, even when they saw the photographs of Jenny and Teddy together.

"Don't blame you for staying away from that zoo," was all Ronan had to say about it. And he was the only one who even bothered to bring it up.

One afternoon in mid-November, somehow, miraculously, we wound up in the kitchen at the same time.

"You want some tea?" I asked. "I was going to have some."

"Really? You're having tea?" Teddy seemed surprised. I nodded. I didn't want to tell him that the fragrance reminded me of him, and that I needed that connection desperately.

"Yes, then, tea would be lovely," he said gently.

"Okay," I said with a smile, taking out two mugs.

I felt him hovering behind me, and the urge to turn around was overpowering. He put his hand on my shoulder, and I tilted my head so my cheek rested on his hand. We stayed that way for a few moments, just being close, until he withdrew his hand. I willed myself not to cry.

"You know, I've been meaning to ask you, Richard's invited me to join him and a group of graduate students at a retreat he's organized in France in a couple of weeks, a classical piano think tank kind of thing. It's for about a week and a half, just hanging out and talking about music, playing the piano, eating and drinking. What do you think? Should I go?" I turned to face him, looking down at his feet, not trusting myself to look at his face.

"Oh?" His voice was neutral. "That sounds nice. Do you want to go?"

"I don't know. It might be fun, a change, you know, from being cooped up in the house all the time. And I've never been to France." I shrugged. "What do you think? If you think I shouldn't go, then maybe I should stay."

"No, I think that if you want to go, you should definitely go. You're right, it can't be much fun for you to be stuck here alone all day. You'd be around other people like you, people from your world, smart, who understand music the way you do. It would be really good for you." He reached out and lifted my chin, looking at my face with a gentle smile that tore me up inside. I stepped closer to him, grasping his wrist with my hand. I pulled his hand up to my cheek, turning my face into it, kissing his palm. I couldn't help it. He pulled me into his arms, and I put my arms around him, crying silently. He held me for a few short moments, then, far too soon, I felt him pulling my arms away.

"Birdie, you should go to France, okay?" He said softly. "You should go. Have fun. Bring me back a bottle of Bordeaux," he said with a smile. And he let go of my hands, and turned and left the kitchen. I stood there, listening as his footsteps climbed the stairs to the music room.

I turned around and saw his tea, untouched. I leaned on the counter, crying silently, for long, silent minutes, until the tea was quite cold.

I texted Richard.

'Re the trip to France, I think I'm in, if there's still room?'

My phone buzzed almost immediately.

'Of course! Glad to have you. See you in three days.'

I sat down in the living room with Molly and Lucy and my knitting, to watch some mindless program on TV, and to try not to think about my darling Teddy, and what had gone so catastrophically wrong, and how I had lost him so suddenly and so permanently.

The next day, I received a text from Richard.

'Since this will be your first time on the retreat, how about if we grab a bite to discuss it? You know, what kind of clothes to bring, what to expect, things like that? Maybe after our meeting? An early dinner? How does that sound?'

That sounded like a date, was how it sounded. But surely not. He was my teacher. And regardless of what Mia said, he had his choice of women, smart, capable women, a whole school full of them. And as far as he knew, everything was roses with me and Teddy.

The day of my meeting with Richard, I dressed especially nicely, and went out to the waiting car. My slow conquest of the third movement went moderately okay, and I got in Richard's car with him as we went to a local pub to talk about the retreat.

He told me that there was frequently snow on the ground, so I'd need snow boots, and a warm coat and pajamas, and plenty of sweaters. The house was very old and drafty and the heating system was ancient, so layers were a must.

"Sounds like a real adventure," I said with a smile.

"Well, you seem like an adventurous kind of girl," he said, smiling back. "Or have I misjudged you? The way you attacked the Mozart led me to believe that you loved hardship and challenge." He put his hand over mine. I immediately pulled my hand out from under his, looking around for photographers.

"I'm sorry, it's just that, being Theo's girlfriend, I have to be really careful about paparazzi. They're all over, and one photograph of me holding someone else's hand could become an international scandal in a matter of hours," I explained apologetically.

He looked at me sympathetically. "That sounds like a tiresome way to live. And is it necessary? He obviously doesn't have similar concerns, given the photographs I've seen of him; I haven't heard you mention him much lately. How are things between you? Everything okay?"

"Well, yes, things are fine." I thought back through our conversations. I thought I'd been very careful about keeping my life with Teddy out of my talks with Richard. How had he known that there was trouble at all?

He looked at me, a very piercing blue-eyed gaze. "Look, so much of what goes on with music is unspoken. It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to see that you've been unhappy lately. It shows in your playing. And the fact that you're suddenly on for the France trip? You can talk to me, you know. I've really heard it all."

It was tempting. I'd had no one but the cats. But I felt like it would be the ultimate betrayal of us, of Teddy and me, and that there would be no coming back from it. It would be like admitting that we were a failure, that we were over.

I shook my head. "No. I'm fine. I just don't have a lot of social skills, so dealing with relationships takes a little getting used to. We're fine, honestly." I smiled.

"You have the loveliest smile, Ms. Foster," he responded. "I think the world would be a better place if we saw it more often."

"Well, we're going to have to do something about Herr Mozart, then, because he's driving me batshit crazy," I said with a laugh.

"Batshit?" He repeated. "We're going to have to do something about your language, Ms. Foster. It's got too much pop music influence in it yet," he said with a laugh.

He dropped me off to a dark house. Of course, Teddy wasn't home. I took a shower and got in bed with a book. I turned the light out at eleven, but tossed and turned for a few hours, then finally got out of bed and went to the hamper and got some of Teddy's sweaters and sweats and took them to the sofa with my phone and a cup of tea. I made myself a little nest out of the clothes and sat right in the middle of them. Thankfully they didn't smell of perfume, just his own, lovely fragrance. I drank the tea and watched a movie of the boys made from a live concert in Mexico City. Then I watched a series of videos put together by Ronan of our trip to Japan. It must have been four in the morning when I finally turned everything off and fell asleep on the couch. I was struck by how happy I was in the video, how carefree. None of the angst I was feeling at the time showed up at all, all of feelings I was having about Teddy, all of the issues with Matthew; it was all fun and laughter, running around hotel rooms, sightseeing in Japan, eating beautiful food, being chased and carried by the boys, dancing with Gethin...

Teddy never came home.