He cost me everything, and it’s a small price to pay in return.

‘I hope the hair is on that list … brunette isn’t your colour,’ he adds as he watches me tuck it into my bra at the side of my left breast, his eye lingering on the cleavage exposed in doing so. I ignore it, and he quickly averts his eyes to scan my hair instead, which is in an unkempt ponytail, and I have to agree. I hate this hair; it’s why it spends its life tied up and looking like a bird's nest.

‘I ...