We pulled into the car park of the hotel after a long drive. I yawned, stretched and got out of his sleek blue car. He mirrored my movements and did the same, opening the boot to get our bags out, before joining me on the passenger side, looking up at the marvellous Victorian building. He placed his hand in mine and we walked towards the building slowly, up the marble steps.

I still remember my heels, dully echoing in the grand hall where we checked in. My breath was taken by the beauty of the place – the high ceilings and huge windows, through which light streamed through. Everything was perfect. I was looking forward to an amazing weekend with him.

We were shown to our room, and as soon as the door shut behind us, we succumbed to our inflamed passion. We hadn’t seen each other for all of a week, but that was too long for my love-weakened heart. Before I knew it, we were curled up on the bed, sweaty and tired and happy. Breathing deeply, taking in each other’s forms with a quiet awe. He stroked my lips with his thumb, and I shut my eyes and sighed.

He kissed my lips, and then got up and started getting dressed. I sat up

“What are you doing?” I asked, perplexed.

“Going out.” He replied gruffly, and with that, he did his jeans up, grabbed his car keys and walked out the door.

I jumped when the door slammed. I had never felt so alone and vulnerable. I clutched the bed sheet to my naked body. Why had he left me? I wasn’t sure what to do, as I had no idea how long he would be out. My numbness returned, and I was cold all over.

I started crying. I was in a strange city, and knew no one but him, and he had abandoned me. My tears made a patch of moisture on the sheets. I was lost and alone. I wanted to call him, but didn’t have the energy or conviction to. I placed my head on the pillow, and must have fallen asleep.

When he returned, he was drunk. He reeked of beer and cigarettes. When he kissed me, it made me feel nauseous. I pulled away and caught a third scent on him. Perfume. In my mind, the walls seemed to melt away. Surely there was a rational explanation?

“I can smell perfume on you.” I said, trying to force nonchalance into my voice. When he hung his head, I knew. And I snapped.

I pushed him away; he grabbed my hand. I wrestled free of his grip and made a lunge for the door. I was struggling at the handle when he came up behind me a grabbed me. Turned me around, and shook me.

I shut my eyes, but I couldn’t shut my ears to the pretty lies he was telling me.

The rest of the weekend passed in a teary mist, and arguments. Lots of arguments and snide comments. He kept trying to make it up to me, and I refused to listen, I was betrayed. I didn’t even want to look at him.

I went out on long walks around the city, just to be away from him. Went to museums, galleries. It soothed my mind and helped me put things in perspective.

My love for him was dwindling; I was no longer as desperate for him as I once was. I wanted out; this was the turning point.