Carefully I put the fork next to the plate. Finished. I've taken out the best china and arranged the coffee table lovingly. With a quick stroke of my palm over the white tablecloth, I turn and open the curtains.

Sunlight floods the room.

My heart lifts for the first time in months. I hold my face towards the sun, closing my eyes.

In a few minutes, she will arrive. Finally. She has been oddly distant since I told her. Granted, she has said all the right words since he broke up with me, but they felt more like platitudes rather than support.

We've always been there for each other. Nearly 40 years of friendship. They almost mean more to me than my 22 years of marriage that came to an abrupt end four months ago.

I hadn't seen it coming. Of course, sharing your life with someone for 22 years is not always pure bliss and happiness. We had our ups and downs and our screaming matches. But we also shared the most profound moments of our lives, the birth of our children. On warm summer nights, we sat on the patio together with a glass of wine and gazed at the stars. We strolled through uncountable fields and woods together with Benny, our beautiful Beagle. We held each other's hands when Benny had to be put down. He just wouldn't have survived another operation.

How was he able to throw all this away? And so suddenly? What did I miss? Everything seemed normal. That didn't stop him from walking out of our house, the house that we had shared for nearly 15 years, with two suitcases and as many words. A letter from a solicitor clarified that he wanted a divorce. The big question that still torments me every day, the Why of it all, has still not been clarified. He refuses all contact with me.

Before the memories overwhelm me again, I sigh and turn. The tree outside the window is casting a shadow onto the coffee table, a long, slightly crooked line that is splitting the two place settings apart.

I try to move the table a little bit, but just then the doorbell rings.

I open the door and give her a massive hug. How much I've missed these little physical signs of affection in the last four months.

We take our respective seats opposite each other, and I pour the coffee. The silence between us feels oddly uncomfortable.

Finally she takes a deep breath. "Look, I don't know how to say this. I know that you will hate me, and you have every right to. But I need to get this off my chest. I know you haven't had any contact with him, that he still hasn't told you why he left you."

She takes one more deep breath. "It was because of me. He left you for me. I'm sorry!"

I'm hearing her words, and I feel my soul fall apart. The final blow. I refuse to look up into her eyes, instead staring at the crooked shadow that is still dividing our places into separate sections.