Since my seizure I’ve been such a mixed bag of emotions. One day I’m up, the next I’m down. The psychiatrist has upped my anti-depressant meds though I don’t always take them. It feels like cheating. And I feel like I’m losing my mind. My DVLA assessment was cancelled, because of the seizure. I’ll have to wait several more months for that now. Which means I can hardly plan to be back on Force CID any time soon either. I’m devastated. I’m angry. And yet, inside, I know I’m getting better. I really can take care of myself now. My physical responses, my decision-making and all manner of cognitive abilities are flying high in the tests I still endure. My lack of emotion and empathy is still an area requiring more work, but despite everything I feel so much more like me again. Just an unhappier version of me.

If it wasn’t for that damn seizure. If I hadn’t pushed myself so far, so fast…

Life for me and Jason continues to be fraught. He’s been working long hours. On a murder investigation that’s really gotten under his skin. He’s not around much, and when he is around he doesn’t want to talk about it, and I think we both know that he’s not really needed in my home now like he was when I first came out of hospital.

I’ve tried telling him this. I don’t mean it nastily. It’s not that I don’t care for him. I do. And now that my emotions are more rounded I’m immensely grateful to him for sticking by me for so long. But time has moved on. My recovery continues but I want my independence back.

Jason had already come home from work tonight in a foul mood. I knew it wasn’t the best time to broach the subject again, but then when would be a good time? So I did it anyway.

‘So it’s over,’ he says, looking down at the floor. ‘That’s really what you want?’

He sounds calm though I know he’s seething. We’ve just been through two minutes of yelling and this is just a moment’s respite.

‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘I just need space.’

‘After everything I’ve done for you. This is what I get.’

‘I never asked you for anything!’ I shout, feeling the calm dissipating.

‘You always were selfish. Welcome back to earth, Dani Stephens.’

He gets to his feet. I’m immediately riled by his heartless comment, however much I might deserve it. I jump up too.