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 painkillers before I got in here 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 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.

I still love him; I can’t deny that. Last night ...