The pull towards the sofa was – probably good for him. It broke the burgeoning tension in his body, didn’t let his shoulders get stiff or his jaw grind. He leant into the sofa cushion and faced her, letting his body soften to listen before he judged.

And he knew he couldn’t have said anything if they were still friends – certainly not after Irene – but privately he was perhaps a little relieved that they weren’t. And that Daffy had been the one to break it off.

But his heart still broke for her all the same, hearing her confess it. Youthful ignorance; real life – it hurt to imagine reality, or other people, disappointing her in any way. He wasn’t sure what to say to her about it, though: words mostly seemed inadequate. “I’m sorry,” he tried, and just squeezed her hand again. “It must be hard.” He remembered it being, especially those first few years. Every time he’d seen Evangeline he had been tormented all over again.

But, for all the pain Daff had been through, Elias was more glad than ever to have the present with her, to be fortunate enough to be the one sitting here with her.

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