She stares at him, noticing the way he’s so intently focused on something as simple as tying his shoelaces, and it strikes her that she no longer knows him. ‘You’re probably right. I’ll go over there this morning, though, just to make sure she’s okay.’

Greg stands up, his cheeks burning red. Yet when he speaks his voice is controlled, almost soft. ‘What’s wrong with you? You’re just so… intense all the time. What if – and I know you don’t want to hear this – but what if Abby just wants some space?’ He shakes his head. ‘You’re blowing this all out of proportion.’

‘So that’s what you think of me? That I’m intense?’ Like him, she manages to speak calmly, even though she’s raging inside. The shock of his words has numbed her; he’s never said anything like this before. Perhaps it’s what he’s always thought, though. She can deal with criticism – she is her own biggest critic – but she’s becoming aware that Greg is lying to her, and with each passing second, she knows it even more.

‘I am who I am, Greg. If you don’t like it then why did you marry me?’

He stares at her, his mouth hanging open. An argument like this is unusual for them; she suspects they’re both too good at keeping uncomfortable thoughts hidden. ‘What kind of question is that, Sienna?’

‘I don’t think it needs explaining. It’s very straightforward. Why did you marry me?’ She is measured, in control, at least on the surface.

He shakes his head, turns away from her to focus on retying his tie, even though there was nothing wrong with his first attempt. ‘I really don’t need this,’ he mumbles.

In hindsight she will wish she’d let this go. She can walk away, avoid the confrontation that has been brewing all morning, but there’s no way back for her now. Everything that’s been troubling her for months – or is it years? – has amalgamated into a storm of tension that’s run out of space in her head. So many times she’s tried to talk to Greg about their marriage, and it’s all come to this.

‘So you don’t know why you married me?’ She is pushing him, desperate for honesty, and she won’t let him leave this house until she has answers.

‘You’re being unreasonable, Sienna. Do you really expect me to answer that?’

‘Yes. Why don’t you answer? It’s a fair question, isn’t it?’

‘It’s a ridiculous question.’ He avoids eye contact; he’s never been one for confrontation.

Sienna’s never known rage like this. It starts as a dot and rapidly expands until it’s seconds away from erupting. ‘Just tell the truth,’ she says. ‘Why are you with me?’