I don’t think I can forgive Daniel either. Four years are a lot to throw away, but he didn’t just have some drunken one-nighter that he regrets. Even if they did and it lasted, what, seven minutes if we’re going on Daniel’s average endurance, then that’s seven minutes to realise you’re making a mistake. Set yourself a timer for seven minutes, and spend that time imagining doing something awful to someone you love. Seven minutes is actually quite a significant amount of time to think about the same thing. It seems to me though that Daniel and Eva have been at it for a long time, which means multiple bursts of seven minutes and everything that happened in between. All time that could be spent rethinking or regretting. He can’t have given either of those things a second thought or he would have stopped – or at the very least, finished with me to be with her.

I’ve thought about it a lot – it’s almost all I can think about – and, no matter which angle I come at it from, I just cannot wrap my head around the magnitude of what they have done – and continue to do. Why bring her on our honeymoon? Why stay, when they realised I was here? They really, really don’t care about anyone but themselves. Why would I want to forgive and forget with people like that? He’s a shitty boyfriend and she’s a shitty friend.

Matteo and Zoey burst onto the stage to the tune of Olivia Newton-John’s ‘Physical’. They’re wearing San Valentino vests with matching shorts, as well as sweatbands on every part of their bodies that can accommodate sweatbands. They’re doing some kind of choreographed, exaggerated version of a jog, perfectly in time with the beat of the music. I’m not sure this is completely necessary but, even if it were, it goes on for about two minutes longer than it ought to.

‘Good evening and welcome to Mr & Mrs Valentine Island,’ Zoey bellows into her microphone. ‘All of our wonderful couples are back and ready for tonight’s round of the competition and tonight we are getting physical!’

It’s amazing, how big a crowd Mr & Mrs Valentine Island pulls. Every seat is taken and every person is cheering excitedly. If I were here on my honeymoon, I’m not sure how into this I would be, watching other couples potentially making fools of themselves. Freddie and I don’t exactly have anything to lose – it’s not as if our relationship will take a knock if he doesn’t know when my birthday is. If I were doing all of this with my actual significant other, though, I’d be terrified. Daniel and I couldn’t even put together Ikea furniture without falling out, and we weren’t competing against anyone. As a keen gamer Daniel is very competitive and, even though this isn’t FIFA, I’m worried we’re going to see that competitive side of him tonight.

It’s warm tonight. I know, we’re in southern Italy, but this is the warmest night we’ve had yet. It’s muggy – a word that sounds so awful it accurately represents how it feels. The air feels thick and hard to take in, which only adds to that warm, suffocating, begging-for-a-breeze, just-want-to-jump-in-the-sea feeling. Of course, it had to be this sweltering on the night when we’re ‘getting physical’.