Wrapped in a fluffy robe after a hot shower, I stare at my clean face in the bathroom mirror; it’s tear-stained and pale. I downed some pain killers before I got in here, in a bid to combat the beginning of a hangover and feel completely wiped out. I don’t even know if he is still in my room, or if he has gone to see Natasha, and I am not sure how I feel either way. I’m crazily disconnected inside, that none of this is real and no closer to a decision at all.

I still love him; I can’t deny that. Last night was incredibly stupid and most...