The text came at around 4 p.m.

Bella. I know this is the coward’s way out but I also know that it is the only way I can do it. I have loved our time together and you are a very special lady but I have to end our relationship. I am so sorry and I want to thank you for the incredible memories. I will never forget you. Be happy. Peter.

It was the second shock I had had in one day but I reacted very differently to this one. I didn’t cry. I didn’t shake. I didn’t even feel angry. I was just serenely numb. It didn’t seem possible that it could be true. I hadn’t seen him for about ten days, which was slightly unusual but the last time we had been together, he had seemed, if anything, more intense than ever. He had looked deep into my eyes as we made love, as if he was trying to see into my soul and had held me afterwards as if he never wanted to let me go. So, with a surprisingly calm, steady hand, I replied: Let’s discuss tonight. Love, Bella x

I finished work and made my way to the apartment as I usually did, still feeling absolutely certain that there was nothing to worry about. I knew Peter too well. He would take one look at me and we would pick up right where we’d left off. He was obviously having a crisis of guilt, probably after a holiday with Jo, but it would be forgotten the moment he set eyes on me, of that I felt sure.

But when I arrived at the apartment block, something that I can only describe as a sixth sense meant my certainty began to waver. I took the lift to the fifth floor and took out my key. Even before I tried to put it in the lock, I knew it wouldn’t work. But I also couldn’t accept what was happening either, so I tried to force it, with greater and greater ferocity.

Suddenly, the door flew open and a be-suited man, roughly the same age as me, with a handsome, haughty expression and blond curly hair, stood in front of me, looking furious. ‘What the bloody hell are you doing?’ he shouted, in a cut-glass accent that screamed public school wealth.

I was rooted to the spot with shock, only now beginning to feel the creeping horror of realization that Peter might have actually gone. ‘My, er, my boyfriend lives here,’ I managed to stutter, even though my throat had dried completely.

The look of anger melted away from the man’s face, to be replaced by something much, much worse – sympathy. ‘Right.’ He hesitated and ran his hand distractedly through his mane of blond curls. ‘Well, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but the guy who rented this flat before has moved out and now I live here …’ He grimaced, looking embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry.’