I’m having an affair with a married man, and his wife is pregnant. It’s different though, with me – it’s different because he truly loves me and besides, his wife is a bitch.

‘It’s just that I can’t leave her whilst she’s pregnant. You can understand that, can’t you?’

Of course I can, I say. My friends look at me with raised disapproving eyebrows. Don’t be stupid Laura they say, there will always be a reason.

They are wrong. He will leave her – she’s a bitch, a real piece of work.

I see him most nights. He comes to my house, we go to my room, we make love – he misses that, making love. We eat some take-away and then he goes home. He walks past my flatmates and their looks of pure loathing.

Be nice, please. I ask. They say nothing. Their looks say that this is unlikely to ever happen. They don’t know him though, not like I do.

My sister and I aren’t talking. She’s married and appalled at my behaviour. You are breaking up a family, she says. It’s not true, I say, he doesn’t love her – it’s me he loves. He will leave her, watch. My sister says nothing and silence has only ensued.

I now spend all my time in my room, away from disapproving eyes. I have informed my friends that I do not want to hear their comments, unless it’s positive. You can’t help the heart, I say. Never say never, it could happen to you, I say.

She’s seven months pregnant. She’s being a nightmare, he says to me, lovingly, a person my friends don’t see. We are at his house; he won’t come to mine anymore because of my flatmates and the discomfort. His wife is with her mother. She’s being a bitch, more so than ever.

He will leave her soon.

His wife is nine months pregnant, my friend screams at me. What kind of a man is he she asks, how can you possibly love him.

I saw her the other day. Her huge stomach, her blonde hair, her Tesco shopping bags. She looked happy, not at all like a bitch. Manipulative cow, I thought.

She’s had the baby he says, smiling, tickling my stomach. Her name is Suzanne. I don’t want to hear. I say nothing. He says he will leave soon, he can’t now, she’s depressed and he can’t leave her with a newborn. Soon though he says, in a few months. I promise, he says.

He said he promises, I tell my friends. They say nothing, but their looks say I told you so.

It’s different I tell myself. He loves me, and besides she’s a bitch.