Lying in bed, I tucked into breakfast as my boyfriend handed me a cuppa.
‘How did I get so lucky?’ I grinned.
‘Only the best for my girl,’ Thomas, then 31, smiled.
It was July 2019, and I’d been dating Thomas a month, though I’d known him for years.
His family lived a few doors down from me and my mum, then 55.
Thomas was 10 years older and a true gent.
Since we’d got together, he’d showered me with compliments, treated me to meals out.
And now, enjoying breakfast in bed, I was the cat that got the cream.
But a month down the line, Thomas became moody, especially after he’d had a
