I sit morosely on my sofa in the dark—the lights of the city twinkle in the background. The flat is empty. It’s been this way for the last two days. I cancelled Mrs Sinclair’s visits just after I rang in sick. Jane’s reaction had been stunned silence, which wasn’t surprising as I never miss work. I’d even turned up the time I’d had a grumbling appendix. Although I’d thought that had hurt, it was nothing compared to the way Laurie had casually gutted me.

It’s an unavoidable fact that I am not invulnerable anymore. My whole body hurts, and my eyes feel sore. I pull the throw around me and snuggle into the sofa, my temples pulsing from the alcohol I consumed last night. The empty bottle of whisky sits on the coffee table.

I’ve been here since I left Laurie’s flat apart from intervals to walk Endof. It’s where I was sitting when I heard his knock on the door on the first day and his plaintive call of my name. It happened seven times, and then he went silent.

I cannot bear to look at him at the moment. Everything I feel is too close to the surface. And the thing is, I know he is sorry. He was sorry as soon as he said it. And I know that he was just lashing out at me. I had done something unforgivable and read a secret that wasn’t mine, and I would have felt exactly the same.

I forgave him immediately for his anger. I’d been in the wrong too—making our argument all about myself. But what I cannot get over is the utter incredulity on his face when I said that I would be there for him. And that hurt, because I would have put him first, ahead of everything and everyone.

The root of the problem, though, is that I’ve done a ridiculous thing. I’ve fallen in love with Laurie, and he patently doesn’t feel the same. He doesn’t see the real me, and I thought he did. That is what I cannot forgive.

I rub my eyes. They’re sore from lack of sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I hear his words again, and snap back to being wide awake.

Coming to a decision, I stand up and shuffle towards the kitchen with the blanket held over my head and shoulders. I rummage around in the kitchen while Endof sits watching me, his head cocked to one side.

“I shall make silky milk with honey,” I inform him. “It can’t be that difficult, and it worked last time.”