“To us,” Amelia announced.

“To us,” I repeated.

We actually had a really nice lunch. It felt like the old times when we didn’t have anything to worry about or anything hanging over our heads. I started feeling like everything was going to be okay and our marriage could be saved. It was premature, but it felt like Amelia and I against the world again. It would have been nice to celebrate Amelia’s pregnancy at the same time, but we still didn’t have the news we were both hoping for. I remained focused on the positives. It was a clean slate and a chance to repair all the damage that had been done.

The weekend continued as happily as it started. We mostly spent it packing our possessions into boxes ready to move. We went through everything, all the photographs and memories that we had made together. On balance, we’d enjoyed a very happy marriage, and we had the photographs to prove it. It was nice going through everything to remind us why we were married in the first place.

The big day arrived, and I set off for my first day at my new job a little earlier than I needed to. I had an errand to run first. I withdrew £2,000 from my account and placed it in an envelope. This was the last money Becky would ever see from me. I was done being taken advantage of. I’d already decided I was never going to see Joshua, and she was just using me for money. She had already had thousands of pounds from me, and I needed to let her know that it wasn’t an endless supply. If Joshua was proven to be mine, there would be a day that I would step up and take responsibility, but on my terms, not hers.

I did plan on visiting the Broadheads over the weekend, but Steve kindly offered to drop the money off in my absence, so I’d never have to see them again. I started looking forward to the future again, and it felt amazing. I was excited about what the next days and weeks would bring.

I arrived at Becky’s house, and I didn’t use the letterbox; instead, I bashed the door with my fist. I saw the curtains moving and heard a commotion behind the door. Becky opened the door, still in her dressing gown, looking quite angry that I’d had the bottle to actually knock on.

“Here,” I said, throwing the envelope through the open door, “make it last. That’s the last money you will see from me.”

“I don’t think so,” Becky said, laughing.

“I’ve decided. Tell her I don’t care. But I won’t be blackmailed any longer.”

I didn’t wait for her reply. I walked down the garden path and slammed the gate behind me. I didn’t turn around to look at her as I did, but I felt like I’d been forceful enough for it to stop. I got back in my car, and she was still standing at the front door holding the envelope. I started the engine, turned in the road, and had no intention of ever returning.

The investment firm I’d got a job at was incredible. I felt like I’d entered the big leagues. People I’d never met before inexplicably greeted me by name as I walked through the doors. I felt like a rockstar. I was met by the office manager, and she showed me to my very own office. It was like walking through the financial gates of heaven. My feet were enveloped in the plush white carpet as soon as I walked in, like a warm hug. The Manchester sun beamed through the huge windows and warmed my face as I started to explore. My brand new, polished desk shined in the sunlight, with a huge welcome hamper sitting on top. It even smelled good, like freshly washed cotton sheets or a spring meadow. I walked over to the window and peered outside. The view over Manchester was astounding. I felt like I’d finally made it. As I turned around to look at Susan, the office manager, I realised there was another section I’d completely missed when I walked in.

“Is this all mine?” I asked excitedly.

“Yes!” Susan smiled.

“I can’t believe it, it's amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it. We are really excited to see what you can do here.”

“Me too.”

“Your assistant is new and still in training. If you can manage today without her, that would be fantastic. She will be joining you tomorrow.”

“An assistant? No way, really?”

“Yes way! We can’t have you doing your own stapling, can we? I’ll leave you to get settled. Just give me a call if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Susan!”

Susan left, and I sat down at my desk. The chair was so comfortable I didn’t think that I’d ever be able to stand up again. It had been left in the sun and was warm and cosy. I leaned back and put my feet on the desk, only to instantly remove them through fear of leaving a mark on its sublime surface. I couldn’t wait to tell Amelia what was going on, so I got my phone out to text her.

Oh my god, Amelia. This place is incredible. I miss you.

Amazing. I miss you, too.

How is the move going? Did the movers turn up on time?

Everything is going fine. They are loading all the stuff now.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to help.

Don’t worry, I’ve got this.

You won’t believe it, but I’ve actually got an assistant, and she’s starting tomorrow.

What’s she like?

I’ve no idea yet. I've not met her. Things are finally going well!

I waited a few minutes with my phone unlocked for a response, but she didn’t reply. Amelia was directing the movers, so I just thought she was busy. I put my phone away and set about exploring every crevice of my new office.

My first day was indescribable. It was the kind of job I’d always dreamed of doing when I started studying finance at university. I’d finally made it. It felt like everything was clicking into place, and the unpleasantness I’d just got through quickly became a distant memory. Everyone in the office was so nice and helpful, and the culture was exactly what I was looking for. I’d even picked up a few new clients on my very first day, which was a record for a new investment specialist, apparently. Once I’d left for the day, I was formidable, and I felt like I could take on anything that was thrown at me. I just wanted to get to my new home and share everything with Amelia.

I parked up in our brand-new driveway and just took a moment to appreciate and take in the new house we had bought together. Although I didn’t think it at the time, it was definitely the right decision. It felt like I’d stepped into someone else’s life overnight, and the relief I felt was pure ecstasy. I didn’t have a key for the front door yet, so I skipped over to it and knocked on, but the door had been left ajar. I was expecting a little welcome to your new home surprise from Amelia if she had time.

From the outside, the house was immaculate. The garden was impossibly groomed and maintained, and every single brick was impossibly aligned and cleaned. The front door was spotlessly clean and so polished that I could see my own reflection as I sheepishly walked through the front door. However, much like our relationship, the inside was only chaos and detritus. All the moving boxes that we had so diligently packed had been haphazardly emptied everywhere. Broken ceramics and ornaments littered the floor, and they crunched underfoot as I slowly made my way through the house. A large wall-mounted mirror that sat in our flat was leaning against the wall, but something had struck it, and it was shattered and cracked. I could hear sobbing, and I inched closer to the source of it, not knowing what to expect.

Amelia was on the kitchen floor, surrounded by the smashed memories and torn photographs of our lives together, holding a half-drunk bottle of vodka in her left hand. I’d been so quiet on my entry that there were at least a few seconds where I could have simply turned around and walked away, but I was so stunned I missed the opportunity. The sheer contrast between reality and what I expected was impossible to turn away from. Amelia got to her feet, still holding the bottle in her hand, and her deadened eyes told me exactly what was about to happen. The only thing that remained a mystery was why.

“Did you meet the slut, then?” she slurred.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Your ‘assistant’, the slut.”

“Ames, it’s work. Nothing is going to happen.”

Amelia started rummaging around in the wreckage of the kitchen for something drunkenly until she found her phone amongst the debris. She placed the bottle on the countertop and unlocked her phone. She walked straight over to me and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, pinning me against the wall.

“I texted you, ‘What’s she like?’ and you responded, ‘I’ve no idea yet.’ What did that mean?” she snarled in my face.

“It didn’t mean anything,” I huffed.

The grip on my collar started to tighten around my neck, barely allowing me to breathe, let alone utter a sound. I recognised the look in her eyes. It was the same crazed look she gave me the last time she put her hands around my throat. I didn’t struggle this time; I just went limp, and we both slowly slid down the wall in a pile of limbs on the kitchen floor. She had landed on top of me, not allowing me to move. Then, she removed the hand from my collar and dropped her phone. She forcefully grasped my right hand with both of hers and every attempt I made to wriggle it free, she gripped even harder.

“You are going to leave me for her, aren’t you?” she cruelly whispered in my face whilst she bent my little finger back beyond its normal range of motion.

“No! I love you. Please don’t do this,” I pleaded as she continued to put pressure on the finger; I could feel the bone creaking.

“Just admit it, Harry. And I’ll stop,” she sinisterly whispered in my ear.

“No,” I mouthed silently. My display of meagre defiance is enough to push her over the edge, and she puts all her weight behind my finger, and it pops and snaps out of place. The sudden jolt of pain leads me to jump to my feet sharply, and Amelia is thrown off me, sending her flying towards the corner of the kitchen island. As I whimpered whilst cradling my broken finger, Amelia turned her head to me and was bleeding profusely from her nose.

“Now look what you’ve done to me!” she screamed.

“I think you’ve broken my finger,” I sobbed.