I nudge the bedroom door open with my shoulder, trying to be as quiet as possible in case she’s still asleep. But she’s not. She’s sitting up in bed, reading a book. Her curly black hair is piled messily on top of her head, and she’s wearing my faded Rick and Morty T-shirt as a pyjama top.

For just a moment, I stand in the doorway looking at her, the heavy trays balanced in my hands.

Daff. Sometimes I still can’t believe that she’s back here with me.

When she walked out of this flat a year ago to the day, I honestly thought I’d lost her. She stayed put at her parents’ house for weeks, and we talked only on the phone: sporadically at first, and then more frequently – long, fraught conversations about things we’d never really spoken about before. I listened as she told me how isolated she’d been feeling over the past few years, how she felt she couldn’t get through to me, and how – even before I told her about Alice – she’d been questioning whether or not we were really meant to be together. It was hard to hear. Horrible, even. But she also told me that despite all this, she’d never stopped loving me, and I saw there was still hope.

At her suggestion, I tried grief counselling – to finally talk properly to a professional about what happened with Mum. I was hesitant at first, but honestly, it’s been one of the best things I’ve ever done. I can feel myself starting to let go of stuff that’s gnawed at me for years – stuff from even before Mum died. I’m learning that it’s OK to miss her so badly that it hurts, but it shouldn’t stop me letting in the people I love.

Gradually, as winter turned into spring and we began to meet up in person again, I think Daff started to see a genuine change in me. A change I was only just beginning to recognise myself. She started to truly believe that I’d never lie to her, or keep anything from her again. She started to forgive me.

And then, a few months ago, just after I started the new job, she moved back in.

I’d be lying if I said it’s been plain sailing from then on. It hasn’t. It’s still tough. In fact, it turned out Harv was right when he said that regaining Daff’s trust would be the hardest thing I’d ever have to do. I still don’t know if I’ve fully achieved it. But we’ve learned to communicate with total honesty now, and because of that, it feels like we’re in a better place than we have ever been.

And today, we’re going to tell everyone the news. The news that we’re still reeling from ourselves …