The house somehow feels bigger, emptier in the fifteen minutes since Shaun left. The silence crouches around me, but it doesn’t feel comforting. It’s as though it’s waiting for me to fall.

I sit staring out into the fading light, cradling a glass of white wine from an open bottle I found in the pantry. It’s not remotely cold enough to drink and the aftertaste lies bitter on my tongue.

I asked Shaun to leave the house, to give me a bit of space. Things seem to be changing so fast, I’m feeling distinctly unanchored.

I know I said some spiteful things. He thinks I’m jealous, but it’s not the fact that my husband is in a relationship with Joanne Dent that bothers me.

If I’m completely honest, he could definitely have chosen worse. Joanne doesn’t flap, nor display jealousy or waste her time on petty gripes. She is a successful, level-headed woman who has her own young daughter.

And that’s what worries me.

On the surface, Joanne looks like the perfect role model for my daughter. But her daughter, Piper, is another matter altogether.

Joanne might be a formidable businesswoman, but she has a lot to learn as a mother. Piper literally runs rings around her at the dance school. I don’t want that behaviour rubbing off on Maisie, although part of me feels guilty at not giving my daughter more credit in resisting the other girl’s influence.

Also, there’s the small detail that Maisie can’t stand Piper. Along with lots of the other girls and their mothers, she has noticed Piper’s behaviour. And the unfortunate way she seems to resent attention falling on anyone but herself.

I sigh, trying to look for the silver lining. Piper has her own circle of friends, so perhaps it might be a good thing after all. Maisie is a sociable girl, and even if she still finds Piper irritating, she might widen her horizons in other ways.

I take a sip of the lukewarm wine and feel the sting of its sourness at the back of my throat.

There’s a new sadness; I can sense the weight of it lying on my chest like a warm cat, bedding itself in for the long haul.

I think it’s probably natural to feel this way. When two people part and one of them meets someone new, there’s bound to be a sense of being left behind in life’s journey. As though happiness is smiling on them and leaving you behind.

But this isn’t a board game with winners and losers. Shaun and I didn’t want to be together any more. Instead of acting like bickering children, allowing Maisie to witness our discontent, we acted like grown-ups. Made adult decisions.

I’m proud of what we tried to do, even if it only lasted a short time.

Through the glass, the garden offers glimmers of its gathering winter sparkle. Now, as I fill the kettle each morning and gaze out of the window, it’s frost that glimmers on the grass, not sunlight.

Damp, tangled leaves in earthy shades clog the lawn and borders, but for a few moments, I’m standing by the open French doors, smiling. I can almost hear the echo of Maisie’s tinkling laughter as she stomps around in glossy red wellies, shadowing her dad’s autumn leaf-raking duties.

How the years march on, whilst we busy ourselves living our best life.

Parenting, relationship, career, health, appearance… we run ourselves ragged ticking all the important boxes, whilst fleeting joyful moments slip so easily through the cracks.

I finish the wine and stand up, walking over to the draining board to set down the glass.

My stomach feels sore, as if it’s blistering on the inside.

I can only describe it as the physicality of letting go, of accepting that my husband has veered off onto another path, one that Maisie will tread with him. One that I cannot follow them on.

Up until now, we two have been the sole influencers on our daughter, together. At home, anyhow. Now, she’s going to play a part in this new blended family that will no doubt pose its own challenges. Another home where things will be done differently, and not always better.

I tell myself Shaun could have met anyone – a woman I didn’t know, someone younger who might resent our daughter and want him all for herself. Keen to start a new family together. It could have been much worse, so I don’t want to catastrophise too much.

But I’ll need to speak to him, warn him about Piper’s public tantrums and open disrespect to her mother. It will be his responsibility to keep an eye on Maisie and to ensure she doesn’t get drawn into that behaviour.

Joanne Dent is my boss. It’s a bit weird, granted, but personal complications aside, I have always admired her, coveted her confidence and professional abilities.

Before things got so tangled, we’d actually chatted in her office on occasion, like friends. But now… now things aren’t as comfortable.

A heat creeps into my neck, inches up towards my face as I recall the things I told her just a few weeks ago – about our marriage, our circumstances.

Personal details I would never have divulged, had I realised.

There’s a sharp crack, a searing pain in my hand, and I cry out, dropping the glass with his snapped stem into the stainless-steel sink.

I turn on the tap and hold my punctured palm under the icy-cold stream. The pink water swirls around in a bloody maelstrom before draining away down the plughole.

I grab a clean tea towel and hold it against my hand, leaning back against the worktop.

My chest is tight, my hands shaky. I’ve been telling myself Shaun’s news is no big deal and yet annoyingly, my body seems to be reacting on a physical level that I have little control over.

I tell myself it will be OK. Everything will be fine. There’s no reason why it shouldn’t all work out for the best.

Providing Maisie takes the news well.