David visibly winces and goes to say something, but I raise my hand to silence him. Because now I’m talking, I realize there’s so much more I want to say. Out loud. For him to hear. For me to hear. Only it’s none of those well-rehearsed speeches that were all about him and how he made me feel; this is all about me.

‘You know, I was always trying to fix things, to make things right, to smooth things over. Not just between us, but at work, with friends, Josie . . . Nothing was going to fail on my watch. “Ask Liv, she’ll sort it out.”’ I break off with a rueful laugh. ‘And yet, you know, it’s only now that I’ve realized it was me I was really trying to fix. I prided myself on being a perfectionist, but that was fuelled by anxiety, a fear of things being out of control, of trying to achieve certainty in an uncertain world.’

I feel a lump in my throat and swallow it down.

‘I needed to protect myself, so my world would never collapse again, like it did when my mum died.’

I look around at my surroundings – once such a wreck and now completely transformed – remembering how I felt when I first walked in here, how I’d slept on the sofa, feeling so scared and alone.

‘But I’m not scared any more. Now I know that, whatever happens, I’m never going to go back there again: to the feeling that my life is over. Because out of all of this, I discovered a strength I had no idea I had.’

I break off, my heart racing. The absurdity of me giving this speech of empowerment, in my fleecy bathrobe with a towel on my head, isn’t lost on me, but, if anything, it makes me own it even more.

‘I’ve changed, and I’m never going to change back.’

David is staring at me. He’s listened and hasn’t interrupted, and now he sighs and rests his eyes on the heels of his hands. I notice that he’s drained his wine glass.

‘But I didn’t ever want you to change,’ he says eventually, his voice muffled.

For a split second my mind flicks back to our first date in that restaurant all those years ago – to all that hope and anticipation – and I’m hit by a bittersweet wave of nostalgia so big it almost floors me.

‘It was never about you, Liv.’

‘Exactly. And now it is.’

And then David looks up at me, and finally I think he gets it.

Five minutes turns into forty-five. I end up putting on the kettle while David tells me about how, shortly after bumping into me in the club, Hannah accused him of not being over me – something that he realized he couldn’t deny. They broke off their engagement and he moved out the next day. And yet, while the old me had dreamed of this moment, the new me gets no gratification. If anything, I simply feel a bit sad at how David blew it all up for nothing.