As a respecter of science, I refused to believe in love at first sight. But at seventh sight? I had the evidence to prove it.

I’d promised myself more times than I could count that I was going to stop doing it. I knew it would be about as pointlessly painful as stabbing myself in the face with a fork, but churning up these memories made the temptation to stalk irresistible. I went for Adam’s Instagram first, both his personal account and the one for his latest band. Scouring through the images, I scrutinised every photo and comment for evidence that he’d moved on – or hadn’t. There was no sign that he was dating anyone. Or, perhaps more importantly given the reasons we’d broken up, that this band was any more of a success than the previous three. His other social media channels were much the same. Seeing his face instantly brought back the familiar ache that had accompanied our many break-ups over the years.

Did his life feel emptier, smaller without me, as mine did without him?

Was this actually how our story would end – heartbreak and disappointment and a mountain of broken promises?

How long did you wait for the love of your life to finally change? To grow up?

I had thought eleven years was more than enough, but it seemed incomprehensible that this was it, Adam was just carrying on without me, and would keep on doing it for as long as we both shall live.

And that, I reprimanded myself as another tear plopped onto my phone, was the reason I’d banned myself from non-weather-related social media.

I pulled the duvet over my head, reminded myself about what happened last Christmas, and eventually tumbled into a fitful sleep.

5

‘Ah, there you are,’ Mum greeted me with an exaggerated glance at her fitness watch. I was a grand total of eleven minutes late for breakfast.

‘Mum’s eggs, my pancakes, or both?’ Dad asked, turning around from the hob to give me a kiss on the cheek.

‘I’ll just get a coffee,’ I mumbled, shuffling over to the machine.

‘Nonsense, you can’t embark on a six-mile walk with only coffee swilling about in your stomach,’ Mum said.

‘In that case, maybe I’ll skip the walk.’

‘Skip the walk?’ Daisy looked up, syrup dripping off the pancake clasped in a sticky hand. ‘I’m good at skipping. Grandma, can I skip the walk with Auntie Bea?’

‘An excellent idea!’ Mum replied. ‘Skipping is highly beneficial for physical and mental health. Perhaps I’ll join you.’

‘I’ll have a pancake.’ After twisting about in my duvet all night, I simply didn’t have the energy to rebel today. Instead, I took my coffee and slid onto the bench beside Elana and Frankie. A solid warmth settled on my feet, and I bent down to see Dash curling up on my woollen socks.