A jingling sound made my nerves flare—Luke’s wedding ring. He’d taken it off and discarded it on the hall table. With the clatter of dropped metal, he said, ‘And here are my keys.’

I hoped that this was some sort of stunt—but the conviction that it was real was winning.

‘Luke, please, I’m begging you.’ Frantically, I placed my hands on his chest, trying to get him to hold still. ‘I love you so much.’ My laboured breaths were humiliatingly loud. ‘We can fix this, we’ll go for counselling, whatever you want.’

Eyes as cold as slate, he peeled my hands off him and held me at bay.

I was reduced to a state of desperation, a ball of terror. But he slung on his jacket, picked up his bag and swung out of the door. Fuelled by panic, I grabbed the keys he’d just abandoned, shoved my feet into a pair of Uggs and followed him down three flights of stairs, out into the sleety street. In my leggings and fleece, I tried to keep up as he strode to a van.

When he opened the van door to vault up beside Joey, I flung myself at him. ‘Don’t,’ he said, cold and unknowable. ‘Please.’

Shocked, I stepped back, hearing the grind of metal as the door slid closed. The engine fired up and the van jerked out into the thin flow of traffic and moved away.

I stayed in the street for a long time. I still thought—hoped—they’d come back. It was the cold which drove me back inside, where the first thing I did was call him—but my number had been blocked.

Fumbling with terror, I called Joey, who said, ‘You can’t talk to him, Rachel. Any bills, official stuff, come through me and I’ll pass them on. I’m turning my phone off now. And listen, mind yourself, would you? Sort yourself out.’

Stunned, I’d sat on the floor, wondering if this was actually real. Then I swallowed a sleeping tablet and waited for merciful oblivion to take me.

In the lamplight at my front door, I realized that Luke was watching me. ‘What?’ He sounded wary. ‘What have I done now?’

Overwhelmed by memories, fresh rage flooded me. ‘Just remembering the day you left me.’

‘Oh God, that was—’

‘You cruel, cold-hearted monster,’ I spluttered. ‘You mean, heartless…’ I could hardly find the words. ‘You ice-cold—’

‘I hated having to do it.’

‘You hated it?’

‘Rachel, please. Listen to me. Please. My baby died—she was my baby too. And my wife, the woman I adored, had relapsed—’

‘—I hadn’t—’

‘—I was broken, the loneliness was killing me and you were gone, Rachel. You might as well have been dead too.’

‘However bad it was for you, it was worse for me.’