We studied together sometimes, which was a convenient way to spend time with him up close without admitting I fancied him. It was a thrill to sit next to him in the library. He’d sometimes come from rugby practice with his hair still wet from the shower, all floppy over his forehead as he rounded over his stack of books. He’d bring me an iced bun from the cafeteria or steal two plastic cups from the water fountain and split his Red Bull without even asking. I could see other girls eyeing us suspiciously, and got a thrill from being the one in his spotlight. I liked the sense of being chosen, of being special. We both did summer internships in London that year and would meet up in Soho Square or go to the cinema at the weekend, and by final year we were a couple. We were in my room one night – he was sat on my bed watching me finish my make-up as the rest of the Core Four started a drinking game in the kitchen.

‘You don’t have to wait with me,’ I’d said. ‘I’ll be done in a minute.’

‘The party doesn’t start until you get there anyway,’ he’d replied, and my stomach had done a loop-the-loop over the fact that he wanted to be with me, that I was the prize to him. I’d turned around from where I stood at the sink unit in the corner of my room, and he didn’t get up as he said, ‘So is this a thing now or what?’

That’s how he’d said it: ‘Is this a thing now or what?’

We’d been together ever since.

Well – until we weren’t.

‘Annie?’

There was a light tap at the door. Adzo. I was lying in bed, turned away from the door on my side to face the wall. I’d closed the curtains but accidentally left a gap between them, and a slither of fading light shone through just before the sun disappeared from the sky. It’s where I focused my gaze, a meditation point between half-closed eyes, neither fully sleeping nor fully awake. I rolled over, feebly smiling.

‘This is a shitshow, isn’t it,’ I simpered, and she smirked, cautious of encouraging me to make jokes about my pain but obviously pleased I was still willing to. Everything was ridiculous. Who gets jilted? It was absurd, really – and devastating. Mostly though, if it happened to somebody else, I’d barely dare believe it could happen. Maybe it was all a bizarre hallucination, or a breakdown episode. Maybe I’d wake up and think urgh, what a horrible dream.

‘I’ll say.’