August opened his mouth to argue, but closed it. She was right. She was right, and he felt as if he was going to topple over from the weight of her leaving and that body and, then, the weight of raising their son. Because when Lyra left - and she was going to leave - then it was going to fall on him. All of it.

The baby-cries and the toddler first steps and when eventually their child started to develop a personality - that was going to be on him. August would be responsible for all the childhood misadventures, teenage disappointments and successes, and eventual adulthood. He would be responsible for telling their son about his mother, when the time came. And he was going to be alone for it.

"And we have to name him," August said, "We have to name him before you go."

It was such a stupid thing, a name. It didn't really matter. But of course it mattered, it mattered more than anything, and August wanted her to have a voice in that.

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