THE DARK-HAIRED TOTS playing on the far side of the sumptuous hotel lounge held Samira’s gaze. They weren’t loud or boisterous, the middle-aged woman with them saw to that. They were just a pair of ordinary toddlers.

Yet Samira couldn’t drag her eyes away from them. She watched the progress of one little boy as he walked the length of a sofa, his fingers splayed on the silk upholstery for support. He gurgled his delight and grinned at his companion who wobbled along behind him.

Samira swallowed. That hollow feeling was back, worse now, turning into a twisting stab of hurt that knifed all the way from her womb up high under her ribs.

She tried to focus on Celeste’s animated chatter about a new restaurant. Apparently it had unrivalled rooftop views of the Eiffel Tower as well as several Michelin stars and was the new place to eat and be seen.

Samira’s stomach rebelled at the mention of food.

Or maybe it was something else that made her insides clench so hard.

The second toddler landed on his bottom, arms waving, and the woman—grandmother? Nanny?—gathered

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