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Except Hannah started to see that my commitment to her was wavering. She turned up and reminded me of the promise I’d made—the one where I agreed to marry her because her family would never have accepted her sexuality.

Not only did Hannah remind me of my promise, begging me to stick to our plan, but she told me that she knew about Delilah, knew she was my student. When I told her I was willing to put up with the comments that I was the person in a position of authority, willing to risk the ire of my family, Hannah pointed out that Delilah would always be seen as the reckless teenager who chased after a teacher. That it didn’t matter what the real truth was, as Delilah would always be the one to be vilified. It would be Delilah picked apart in the press if the scandal of a teacher-and-student affair broke.

I had been willing to shoulder the scandal, but Delilah? I knew it would crush her.

“Marry me as you agreed, or I’ll reveal your whole torrid affair, and you can watch the press pull her apart and find her lacking.”

That was the price I wasn’t willing to pay. That was enough to convince me to break Delilah’s heart and agree to commit to Hannah.

Hannah promised to keep her knowledge of my relationship with Delilah to herself and to never mention it again. I remained engaged to Hannah, even if we didn’t love each other. There was never any idea that either of us could feel something genuine for the other more than friendship, and even that had become tenuous given her threat. Together, we put on a show, continuing that happy relationship so her family wouldn’t disown her. We planned the wedding, and in the back of my mind, I wondered how my life was going to pan out. How long would we need to keep up the charade? Would she have discreet affairs and relationships? Could I? What were we supposed to do when our families put pressure on us to have children? How far would I need to go for a promise I made when we were both so young?

Then Hannah died in a tragic accident. A terrible mix-up with a server who didn’t understand her severe allergy to peanuts and accidentally served a meal containing peanut oil. Despite the EpiPen and the measures people took to try to save her, she still lost her life.

Despite the devastation I felt at losing somebody I couldn’t remember not knowing, Hannah’s death should have been a chance for me to live my life properly again, but instead it bound me still. I couldn’t run off to find Delilah when the media and the public expected me to be mourning the loss of my fiancée. I couldn’t say it wasn’t genuine when Hannah’s parents still believed it was. Even after her death, I couldn't betray her. So, instead of finding Delilah when I wanted to, I continued the silence. By the time I decided I wanted to find her, I knew she would have moved on. There wasn’t any chance I could go back to her and beg for a second chance. There was too much to forgive at that point.

“Delilah—” I start with a sigh, but she frowns, stopping me.

“Did you ever really love me?”

“Of course I did,” I retort.

“Did you love Hannah?”

“No, not like that. Probably more like how you love Felix. Hannah and I never felt anything romantic for each other. Her family would have disowned her, or worse, if they discovered her sexuality. We were in a fake relationship for years. When she got suspicious about you, she told me what would happen if I didn’t carry on with our engagement.”

“You’re right, it sounds crazy,” she scoffs.

“I don’t want to bad-mouth Hannah—it doesn’t sit comfortably with me to speak ill of the dead—but it’s the truth. She was so afraid that her parents would disown her, but it was more than that. She was terrified something bad would happen to her when they found out. Not everybody has easy-going parents who accept their children for who they are.”

“It all sounds so noble, Joseph, until you factor in that you should have told me. I should have known. You could have trusted me with that secret.”

“I know. God, I know that. If I could go back in time, I would tell you. I would have told you right at the beginning. I just can’t, Dee. It isn’t possible to fix the mistakes I made. But what I can do is apologise. I can beg for forgiveness. I can explain the truth. I can promise that everything else I told you—every promise and vow, every declaration—it was all true. My feelings for you were true. I want to put this right between us.”

“You just want to assuage your guilt,” she snaps.

“No, Delilah,” I protest.

She falls silent, and I don’t want to push her to talk. I let the minutes pass until I can’t bear it a second longer. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“No.” She shakes her head.

“Then what do you want?”

“I want to believe the things you told me then. I want to erase some of the doubts and pain I’ve had since you left me. The way you treated me, the way you ghosted me, it influenced my relationships. I couldn’t trust anybody. Anytime somebody got close, I’d wonder at what point they’d let me down or disappear from my life.” She pauses for a second and rolls her eyes. “Well, they were some shitty dudes who weren’t deserving of my trust and were always going to be a disappointment, but still.”

“What can I do? What can I say to make it better? The last thing I want is for you to feel hurt and betrayed by me for the rest of your life. Please tell me what you want me to do. Anything. I mean it,” I promise.

Delilah sits quietly for a moment, taking a deep breath. She picks up her wineglass and takes a sip, then settles back into the sofa, still holding her glass. She looks suddenly serene.

“Anything?”

“Whatever I need to do to help set this a little bit better.”

“I could do with something sweet to eat,” she says.

For the first time tonight, her smile looks genuine.

“Something sweet?” I repeat.