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His back stiffened. He was uncomfortable. Good.

‘Well, Penelope and I have parted ways,’ he said carefully. ‘Indefinitely. She’s completely out of the picture, of course she is.’

I could feel my chest rise. ‘That’s not what I asked. Also, what do you mean by indefinitely? Is she in fact on the back burner, just in case?’

He glanced away, then back at me, his eyes lowered. ‘No, no. It wasn’t emotional, Harriette. It didn’t mean anything.’

I let out a short laugh. ‘Right. So you were riding her for fun, is that your defence?’ I rubbed my forehead. ‘Because I heard what you said on the live, Rupert. I heard every word. I’ve watched it on repeat night and fucking day!’ I screwed my face up and mimicked his stupid voice: ‘When will this be ours, Pen? I can’t stand another night next to her. I need you . . .’

Instantly, his eyes filled, tears spilling fast, like he’d been holding them in for weeks.

‘And there’s no point turning on the water works. I also saw the fucking photos,’ I added, my voice rising. ‘You took her to The Ritz while I was stuck in the fucking Gorbals freezing my arse off under a duvet I wouldn’t give to a dog in the street!’ I stood up, pacing now, rage fizzing under my skin. ‘Do you have any idea how humiliating all of this has been for me? I’m supposed to be the perfect fucking wife, Rupert! That’s my brand! That’s who I am, and you shat all over that! My reputation, my career, is in fucking tatters. You’ve made an absolute mockery of me.’

He stood too, matching my volume. ‘Do you have any idea how hard this has been for me, Harriette?’

I took a step towards him, ready for a fight.

‘I’m your husband,’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘No one knows me as anything else. I’m just there. Always lurking in the background, an accessory to your brand. I am the guy no one remembers except when I am standing next to you. You’re everywhere – flying off, photoshoots, cameras, in demand.’ He let out a bitter laugh.

The words landed heavier than I was anticipating.

‘Penelope saw me,’ he went on. ‘She actually looked at me. She was interested in me. Me. Not just because of my proximity to you, for once.’

I stared at him. ‘So you fucked her because you were jealous of me? Of what? My business? My fame?’

He shook his head and dropped back onto the sofa, gripping his hair. ‘I did it because I wanted to feel important. Just once.’ His voice broke. ‘And I hate myself for it. I hate myself every second of every day.’

Silence hit. The air felt thick.

‘I’m sorry,’ he choked. ‘I’m so fucking sorry.’

My chest tightened, something uncomfortable shifting under all the anger.

‘Why, though?’ I asked. ‘You were never inferior to me, Rupert. I didn’t treat you like that. I did everything I could to make you happy, every meal, every detail in our house, it was all for you. Not to mention, I tied myself in knots trying to get you to sleep with me.’

He looked up at me, his eyes red, face wrecked and blotchy. ‘I know. That’s what makes it all the worse. I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I just let it build inside me. Pure resentment and anger. And then I ruined everything.’

I swallowed hard, my heart thudding. At one point, he’d been the centre of everything. The one doing well. The one I’d supported, rather than outshone. And somewhere along the way, it had flipped – and I’d never really asked how that felt for him.

‘I’ll do anything to fix this,’ he said, the desperation in his voice unmistakable now. ‘Anything, Harriette. We need our old life back. I will do anything to get it back.’

I sat beside him. The anger was still there, but it was duller now. My body felt exhausted from the shock of seeing him, and from the realisation of how ignorant I had been of his needs, his real needs, for years.

‘You could have spoken to me about feeling left out. I’d have got you more involved somehow or . . .’ I looked at him. He wasn’t just the man who’d hurt me by having a ridiculous, predictable affair. He was also the one who’d been standing next to me the whole time, slowly fading, and maybe I’d been too caught up in everything else to notice. ‘I didn’t mean to make you feel invisible in all of this,’ I said.

His face crumpled.

I exhaled slowly, my throat tight. ‘I didn’t mean to, but it’s not an excuse either.’ I sighed, my head pounding, feeling like nothing was sitting quite right. ‘Look, you got caught up in that life just as much as I did, Rupert. You love it. More than me, I’d say,’ I said, thinking of the luxuries he’d always enjoyed because of my channel. The cars, the clothes, the invites to exclusive parties; he practically got a semi when they came in. ‘You are the one who always pushes for bigger and better deals and brand contracts. So you don’t get to cheat and blame it on my fame. Saying you have been left out. I was the one who was left, Rupert. When you and Pen would fuck off to meetings, and I had nothing to do. My head was constantly overthinking where you were or what I could do to bring us closer.’

Rupert gulped. ‘I know. I know you tried. I saw you trying, and I was riddled with guilt. But I can fix it now,’ he said quietly. ‘Properly. If you’ll let me.’

I shook my head. ‘I honestly don’t know if we can.’ Everything was a mess. I knew I was no angel in all of this, and I couldn’t help but think about what I was doing by wandering into the woods with Adam the night before I left. How could we have any hope of getting back from all of this?

His shoulders dropped.

We sat there for a few minutes in silence. Meanwhile, every word of that conversation was doing laps in my brain like Usain Bolt on speed. Was I to blame for all this? My channel hadn’t just taken off – it had detonated. One minute I was minding my business, steeping my husband’s boxers and ironing his shirts for work, the next I was living in a ring-light-fuelled fever dream, making more money than I knew what to do with. But part of it had been about building something for us. For him. I’d dragged him out of the corporate finance world at thirty and handed him a better life on a silver platter. A massive house, and opportunities that people would sell a kidney for. And still, somehow, it hadn’t been enough. A tiny, bitter part of me still thought: you could’ve just been grateful, ya fucking dick!

‘Would you like to go down to the restaurant?’ Rupert murmured, ‘You look like you’ve lost weight.’