Chapter EighteenEvery day I wake up, and for a moment I expect that the bed next to me will still be slightly warm, but it’s not. It’s cold. The pillow is unused. There is no pot of tea waiting for me in the living room. All I have to look forward to is an empty house and the occasional phone call from Mum, or Alice, calling to check how I am.
I’ve lost track of the amount of tears I’ve shed, before reaching the kind of blank emptiness I find myself in now. The pain has dulled, though it hasn’t gone away. I miss him, desperately so.
When Peter packed up all his things last week I felt like it was goodbye forever. I would never see him again. Every day I’m fighting the urge to phone him, to ask him to come back. So far I hadn’t caved.
It’s for the best. We’re not compatible. Mum was righ
