Many would consider life with Miranda Priestly to be far from easy. They would, of course, be right. It had been two months since I began to consider her my girlfriend - two months since she insisted on being the only other person I allowed between my sheets, in fact. Not the most romantic way to ask for exclusivity, but that was Miranda, I supposed. On the surface, everything was wonderful between us.

Underneath, our relationship was far from perfect.

I had seen problems in our future, of course I had, but – foolishly – I had expected them to be far away, assuming we would have a lasting relationship for more than two months before I started to doubt her. Doubt myself. Something I hadn't done in a very long time.

In high school, I was just barely coming to terms with being considered as a bi-sexual, so realising that I wasn't actually interested in men at all was a problem. Being surrounded with homophobia had made it expressly difficult to come out to my parents, and they hadn't exactly welcomed the news. It was only went I went to university and began meeting people "like me" that I understood that there was nothing wrong with me, and suddenly I could relate to other women who had struggled with who they were for so long. Quickly, I was both more myself and more accepted than I had ever been – and although I would never admit it, approval had helped me because I had seen that a person falling in love with someone else isn't sinful.

The love I had for Miranda was no less valid than the love between a straight couple. I knew that – but it became obvious that she wasn't so sure.

"Andrea, listen to me. I just don't think it's anyone else's business what we do when we're together! I know that as soon as everyone finds out, my ex husbands will come crawling out of the woodwork in some desperate attempt for money and tell the press that they finally knew the reason why I was so frig-" She cut herself off and took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

"You are not frigid, Miranda." I took hold of both her hands in mine and kissed them. "But you misunderstand. Coming out, telling the world about our relationship, is not primarily about sex. It's about expressing the love we have for each other freely, proving we haven't done anything wrong because this changes nothing! You can still be the Ice Queen, everywhere but the bedroom," I smiled at her. She regarded me for a second with troubled eyes before standing up and slowly walking out of the kitchen. I wondered how much I was prepared to do for her. Hiding a huge part of myself, constantly wondering whether or not she loved me – because surely if she did, she would publicly announce it? Or was that simply conceited?

We continued to work together as usual, albeit a little awkwardly after that conversation. I still visited the townhouse, but less frequently than before, and I found myself alone in my apartment more often than not. I was becoming depressed, lonely without Miranda and the friends I had unknowingly rejected to be with her. Of course, they were unaware that I had rejected them for Miranda because she was busy romancing me rather than giving me impossible Prada-orientated orders.

Working for Miranda was even beginning to change now she had decided to go through e-mail, Emily or Nigel every time she had a request. I didn't know whether to be upset or simply irritated that we had taken four steps backwards in our relationship, when an idea struck me. There was to be an event, one of the biggest in Runway history – a celebration of Miranda Priestly. She was to be revered for her life dedicated to the magazine, and had been encourage to present new and fresh ideas for "the next twenty years" she would be working there. Surely there was no better night for her to present the newest, freshest thing in her personal life as well as her professional?

"Miranda. We need to talk."

"Andrea, you above all should understand how furiously busy I am preparing for this infernal event-"

"Before you curse me into the fiery pits of hell, listen to me. That infernal event is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about."

She took off her glasses and placed them on the table in front of her, before leaning her elbows on the desk and intertwining her fingers in front of her face. Waiting.

"Don't you think, maybe, that I could go with you?"

"What are you talking about, Andrea, you're obviously coming with me – you're my assistant!"

"I meant as your partner."

There was a pause as she regarded me. A few months ago, her gaze would have scared the living daylights out of me. A few weeks ago, it would have made my knees go weak. Now, I simply let her look.

"Why would you think that's a good idea?" She said, finally.

"Because you're supposed to be in love with me!" I all but screamed at her, the emotions I had hidden from her for entirely too long escaping before I could stop them. But she didn't look affected, or shocked by my outburst. She simply sat, still staring at me, almost with curiosity.

"I do love you." She stood up and walked towards me with her arms outstretched. "I do, but it's not as simple as that..." she sighed as she took me in her arms, nuzzling into my neck. I didn't move, rooted to the spot with my arms by my sides. "Andrea, please...I... okay. Alright, we'll do it. We'll go together. I'll tell them, all of them, in my speech how much I love you. I'll prove it, if that's what it will take I'll do it."

"I want you to want to do it, Miranda."

"There is nothing I want more than for everyone to know that the Ice Queen belongs fully to you. That doesn't mean I'm comfortable with people writing that you are nothing more than a mid-life crisis, soon to be dropped in the gutter. That you're a fool for believing I won't give up on you like I have all the others. Because it's not true, darling."

I wrapped my arms around her then, smiling carefully before kissing her fiercely.

The day of Miranda's celebratory event rolled around much quicker than I expected it to. I hadn't seen Miranda properly outside of work for a week or so, and I couldn't wait to get her home that night. Our relationship seemed to have flourished so much since we decided to tell the world about our love tonight, although both of us had become increasingly nervous as the date drew nearer. It was for this reason that I assumed Miranda hadn't returned my call, or answered my messages today. But I wasn't worried. I was determined to look good tonight, if possible so that as soon as she saw me she would be tempted to whisk me away right there and then, so I dressed in a slinky black dress. Simple, understated and classic – elegance, thy name is Andrea. I wanted to do her proud as I stepped onto the stage next to her in just a few short hours. My hands were already shaking, so I was secretly thankful that I'd arranged for stylists to do my hair and make-up.

We had agreed that we would meet in the lobby, and that's where I was when I saw her stepping out of her car, helped by a smartly dressed driver. I frowned. Why was her driver holding out his hand for her to hold? And why the hell was she taking it?

She walked towards me, her mouth tightening a little when she saw my face. As they entered the building together, still holding hands, she muttered something in his ear and he nodded. Smiling at her, he walked straight past me into the main ballroom. We were alone, but there was so much opportunity for anyone to walk in on us, so she had no choice but to drag me through a tiny door that I hadn't even noticed. We were in a closet.

"Who the FUCK is that?"

"Andrea, calm down-"

"Calm down? Are you serious? No I will NOT calm down, you're my girlfriend and you're here with some model that hasn't looked at your face once since you stepped out the car, he's far too enamoured with 8 inches below it!"

"Listen to me." She said slowly, "I cannot and will not do this with you. Not here. Tonight is not the time for us to come out." She suddenly looked a little desperate. "Please, can't you just be my assistant until we go home?"

"Do you hear yourself? It's okay for me to run around after you, for you to treat me like crap, and then we go back to your house in separate cars so no one knows? I won't be your dirty little secret anymore, Miranda. Fuck you."

I extracted myself from the vice like grip she had on my hand and ran for all I was worth until I was outside, far enough away that she couldn't cause a scene by shouting after me or chasing me.

I hailed a cab. And when I got home, I simply sat for a while, contemplating.

What the fuck had I expected?