Years? This had been going on that long? While I’d been ironing his shirts, polishing his shoes and making his damn lunches, he’d been falling out of love.

‘Don’t call me Ash,’ I snapped. Nicknames were a term of endearment and I felt anything but endearing towards him right now.

But I had to get over my own shock and hurt and think about our children. ‘You took marriage vows. You can’t just give up on me, on the kids, on us. Let’s go to marriage counselling. Make more of an effort to have date nights. Spend time together. Maybe we can go to Bali, just the two of us; I’m sure Hayley would look after the kids.’

Adrian sighed deeply as he shook his head. ‘I don’t think there’s any point. Twenty years is a good innings, considering we got married young, but we’ve both grown up in that time, changed. I don’t want to stay with you simply because we signed a bit of paper when we were kids. Most of my friends have slept with tonnes of women—I’ve only ever been with you.’

Nausea whirled in my gut—would he simply erase the last twenty-two years if he could?—but I swallowed it down, not wanting this stranger to see my weakness. ‘You want to fuck other women?’

‘Ash.’ He flinched. ‘Don’t use that kind of language—it doesn’t suit you.’

‘How do you know what suits me? You’ve just been telling me how we’ve grown apart, how we’re different than we once were. Well, do you? Do you want to have sex with other women? Is that what this is about?’

After a long pause he nodded but wasn’t man enough to meet my gaze.

His silent admission sucked the breath from my lungs. I threw back the bedcovers and fled into the ensuite, tears already barrelling down my cheeks.

Adrian hurried after me, but I locked the door before he could get in. If I no longer satisfied him, if he wouldn’t even consider counselling, then I was done talking.

‘Ashling, please. You’ll always be important to me, you’re the mother of my children. Wouldn’t you rather this than have me keep pretending and go behind your back?’

Sitting on the toilet seat, I shook my head, my whole body trembling. He was making out like he was a saint for not having an affair? That I should be grateful, maybe even give him a medal or something for showing such restraint?

When I didn’t reply, he was quiet for a few moments and I thought maybe he’d gone. Where, I didn’t know. Out of the room? Or out of the house? What exactly would happen now? How was I supposed to deal with this? What would I tell my children?

Adrian only gave me five seconds’ peace—if anyone could call the terrifying questions swirling round my head that—before he knocked on the door. ‘Open up, we need to finish our conversation.’

‘No,’ I retorted, sounding stronger than I felt. ‘If you don’t want to be married anymore, then you no longer have the right to make decisions about what we need.’