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As Nicole walks through the plush lobby of the Langham hotel, she questions for the hundredth time why she’s come. It’s been a week since Ben turned up at her house in the middle of the night. A week since she told him never to contact her again. And a week of regretting it. But with everything else going on, she knows it was the right decision. So how come she’s allowed him to talk her into coming to see him?

She spent the entire train journey trying to convince herself it was because of the music they made together. They’ve created something special—of that she is sure—and, for her part, she’s not prepared to give that up just because he can’t control his roving eye.

And as she walks along the corridor, her pumps sinking into the deep-pile carpet, she reasons that that’s all she’s here for. They should never have crossed the line into a personal relationship; it was a mistake and one that she’s berated herself for ever since. She only hopes he has come to the same realization.

Taking a deep breath, Nicole flicks her hair behind her shoulders and stands tall, as if hoping it will give her all the resolve she needs. She must not allow herself to be distracted by the magnetic pull of Ben’s captivating presence, as irresistible as she finds it.

Checking she’s at the right room, she knocks on the door, her stomach somersaulting at the rush of movement from the other side.

“Oh, hello,” says a girl, raising her eyebrows expectantly as she stands there in a white toweling robe.

Nicole is momentarily frozen, looking between the number on the door and the girl’s Cheshire cat grin, as she tries to recall where she might have seen her before. Because she’s sure she has.

“Are you room service?” asks the girl, looking Nicole up and down impertinently before she even has a chance to construct a sentence.

There’s no doubt that it’s the right room, but the sight of the messy, unmade bed that she can’t help but picture Ben and this girl rolling around in suggests that nothing about this is right at all.

“Erm, no, sorry…” she says, her brain racing to catch up to her mouth. “I was told to come to 756, but you’re not who I was expecting to see.” She laughs awkwardly. “I must have been given the wrong room number.”

“Oh, are you here for Ben’s suit alterations?” asks the girl.

His name on her lips hits Nicole’s windpipe like a sucker punch. She instinctively wants to buckle under the girl’s intense gaze, but she’ll be damned if Ben is going to make a fool of her a second time.

“He’s just in the shower,” says the girl, who with her asymmetric haircut reminds Nicole of Cyndi Lauper. “Come on in.”

Nicole can hear the rush of water from the bathroom, see the rise of steam escaping from underneath the closed door. “I-I don’t think…” She starts backing away.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” says the girl, taking her by the hand. “He’s honestly just a normal guy, and he really needs his trousers taken up, otherwise I won’t be seen dead on his arm tonight.”

Her laughter gets lost in the kaleidoscope of emotions that assaults Nicole’s senses—confusion, anger, humiliation—but there’s something else: a sound that’s trying to penetrate her ears, even though she knows she doesn’t want it to.

It’s not the girl knocking on the bathroom door or her calls of “Babe, hurry up!” It’s not even her coy insinuation that they’re running behind schedule because they’ve just got out of bed. It’s the distant strum of a guitar, the lilting voice of a woman singing about a lost love, the thundering realization that it’s her song playing on the stacked mini hi-fi in the corner of the room.

“Is that…?” she starts, the words catching in her throat as she looks at the speakers that seem to be goading her.

The girl looks at her wide-eyed. “Oops,” she says, rushing to turn it off. “I don’t think Ben will want anyone listening to the new single.”

“Th-that’s his new single?” Nicole says hoarsely, the words feeling like razors on her tongue.

“It’s coming out in a couple of weeks,” says the girl, putting a conspiratorial finger to her lips. “But it would be more than my life’s worth if you tell anyone I’ve told you.”

Nicole stands there, clutching at her chest, trying to stop her heart from feeling as if it’s being ripped out.

Ben had obviously forgotten how hard he’d had to beg her to come and see him three days ago, having taken a better offer in the meantime. She thinks back to every empty promise he made to her then; his reassurance that he’d not looked at another girl since they’d been together, that she was the only one for him, that he wanted to make music with her for evermore… How fickle his heart must be; how quickly he forgets. But then she remembers how his assistant had called just this afternoon to let her know that he was running late and had changed rooms.

So, he couldn’t have merely forgotten; he must have brought her here on purpose, with the sole intention of causing maximum hurt and humiliation. How could he be so cruel? And what had she done to deserve him treating her so badly?

Storming to the hi-fi, she claws at the tape deck, hitting every button in an effort to eject the cassette.

“Hey,” shouts the girl, attempting to pull her back. But Nicole’s not leaving here without her tape, and if Ben thinks he’s going to use her music, her voice to further his career, he’s got another think coming.

She has to tug, the head of the machine still engaged, and as she yanks the cassette out of the hi-fi the tape unwinds, spilling ribbon from its plastic casing. Nicole catches her breath as the heartfelt harmonies she and Ben had pored over lay tangled on the floor—much like their relationship, she supposes.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” shrieks the girl.

Nicole’s nostrils flare, her sense of shame knowing no bounds. “Do you know that your boyfriend in there is screwing everything that moves?” she spits.

The girl laughs. “Oh, darling, were you one of them?” she asks, her tone beyond patronizing.

Nicole swallows her dented pride and the bitter taste in her mouth.

“If you think you’re telling me something new, I’m afraid a hundred other girls just like you have beaten you to it.”

“Well, if you’re still here to tell the story, then more fool you,” snaps Nicole, her anger at odds with her compulsion to get on her knees and gather up the spooled tape.

“It’s just sex,” says the girl. “I’m not so naive as to believe that someone like Ben Edwards wouldn’t need to get it from somewhere when I’m not around.” She makes it sound as if it doesn’t matter where that somewhere is.

“Just so you know, what we had transcended that,” says Nicole assuredly, as if trying to convince herself.

“You keep telling yourself that,” says the girl. “While I’m the one lying in bed beside him tonight.”

The thought of another girl nestling into the nook of Ben’s neck, their bare skin touching, makes Nicole feel sick, but worse than that it makes her feel stupid and foolish to have ever believed his hollow undertaking that she was everything he needed.

“Now, if you don’t get the fuck out of here, I’m going to call security.”

Nicole throws a glance toward the closed bathroom door, where the shower is still running and Ben is no doubt blissfully unaware of what he’s lost—if he even cares.

Is she really going to walk out of here and let him off that easily? Is she honestly going to slope off into the shadows, as if she never existed?

“If you go anywhere near my music,” she yells, going to the bathroom door and slamming her open palm on it, “I’ll dedicate my life to making sure you regret it.”

The girl hurriedly meets her there, taking ownership of the handle. “I’m calling security,” she says, wide-eyed.

“I hope you’re happy living your sad, vacuous life, with sad, vacuous hangers-on,” says Nicole through the door as she throws the girl a look of utter contempt. “You deserve each other.” She turns to leave. “I was always too good for him anyway…”

As she walks down the corridor, devoid of the hopeful spirit she’d come here with, she pretends that it means nothing, that Ben is inconsequential to her. But deep down she knows that if she had the chance to kill him right now, she would take it.