Syed sat stunned, mouth slightly open, tears pricking his eyes, as if he'd just been slapped. After a minute of trying to pull his thoughts together, all he could muster was a dazed, 'Why would you think that?'

And suddenly, for the first time, Christian saw with complete clarity what they'd been skirting around all this time. And he was scared. Really scared. Because he couldn't see a way past it, but it was too late to take it back. The only option was to plough steadfastly onwards, trying to suppress the voice inside his head that whispered 'it's over'. Without realising that he was doing it, Christian untangled his fingers from around Syed's and crossed his arms defensively, withdrawing into himself.

'Why wouldn't I?'

'But I hate what I did to Amira - I hated it at the time and will always be ashamed of it. You know that. But I wasn't ready to accept that I was gay. Now everything's out in the open and I'm with the person I love,' he reached a hand out towards Christian's, 'there's no need for me to ever, ever, do that again.'

Christian pulled his hand away and his heart ached at the pain and confusion that clouded Syed's face. He felt nausea at what he was about to do, the voice in his head growing louder and more insistent. He braced himself to deliver the final blow.

'Really, Sy? Are you sure that's true? Whatever else was going on, no one forced you to be with Amira. That was your choice. You wanted to make a life with her, but you were still cheating on her, and doing a damn good job of pulling the wool over her eyes. For months I had to watch you with her - smiling, laughing, holding her hand, showing her off, playing the doting fiancee. I was the only one who didn't fall for the act, because I knew that half an hour earlier you'd been in my bed texting her the latest excuse. It doesn't matter why you did it. The point is that whatever we do, however much we love each other, it'll never be enough. I'll never be able to trust you, because I witnessed first hand what a convincing liar you are. How can I ever be sure you're not fooling me like you fooled her?'

Syed laughed. An empty laugh edged with bitterness and disbelief. Christian wasn't sure what reaction he'd been expecting, but it wasn't that. He'd as good as said they were over, and Syed was laughing? Christian's mood blackened.

'It's not funny, Sy.'

'No, you're right. It's not funny. Not funny at all. But you can't expect me to take it seriously. I'm a convincing liar? You must be kidding. No one was fooled for a second.'

Christian felt his anger rising. An anger fuelled by frustration and hurt and long buried memories that were flooding back with surprisingly painful clarity. Leaping to his feet and stabbing the air aggressively with his index finger, time-hardened resentments boiled over and spilled out unchecked.

'That girl loved you, Sy. She loved you and you broke her heart. You made her believe that you wanted her, while all the time you were seeing me behind her back. You married her, made vows to her, knowing that you were gay and loved someone else. Not fooled? She built a life on a pack of lies, and it destroyed her when she found out. I am not going to let you do that to me.'

Syed fought hard to stay calm, realising for the first time the full extent of the scar tissue left by those early wounds. But he knew Christian was wrong. He just had to find the right words, and make sure Christian heard them.

'Christian, you have to calm down. You need to listen, really listen, to everything I'm about to say, because there is something very important you have to understand. Amira knew. Long before you told her. She knew. She always knew. I didn't deceive her at all.'

Syed saw instantly that those had not been the right words. Rather than calming down, Christian had become an enraged bull, Syed's words like a red cape, antagonising him into a furious attack. He strode across the room and back, knocking into the coffee table on the way, cups and pens clattering. He loomed over Syed, fire in his eyes.

'That is bullshit!' he spat. 'You didn't deceive her?' He punctuated his points by counting them out on shaking fingers. 'You told her you loved her. You asked her to marry you. You persuaded her father to give you his blessing. You slept with her. You even managed to get her pregnant. And you're telling me she accidentally got the wrong end of the stick? That it was all some terrible misunderstanding in which you played no part? I spent months tying myself in knots because you asked me to keep quiet. You begged me not to say anything, pleaded with me on your wedding day not to tell her the truth. She came to me, desperate and confused, because you wouldn't tell her why her marriage was falling apart. And when I finally forced you to tell her the truth, she became so hysterical you wanted to call an ambulance. You didn't deceive her? You did nothing but! How dare you deny it!'

Syed had never seen Christian so close to losing control. He stood up, but stayed at arm's length, not wanting to escalate the emotional confrontation into a physical one. Silently pleading with his god to help him, he tried again. 'Please listen, Christian. Really listen to me. I'm not saying that at all. I'm not denying anything.'

'Then you'd better start explaining pretty damn quick. Because I am this close to walking out of here.' His thumb and forefinger hovered millimetres from each other, pinching the air aggressively in front of Syed's eyes.

'OK, OK. I will. But you have to calm down and listen. Of course I lied to her. A lot of the time I was lying to myself as well. But I never really fooled her, any more than I fooled myself. I certainly didn't manage to pull the wool over her eyes with my brilliant talent for deception. The only reason it worked is because she chose to believe my, quite frankly, ridiculous stories. I could never live a lie like that with you because you would never let yourself believe it.'

Christian stood frowning, frame stiff, fists clenched, a hardened stare. But he was no longer lashing out, he was listening, so Syed continued.

'Think about it. How exactly did I manage to dupe her so convincingly? I'll tell you how. By spending as little time with her as possible. By never doing more than holding her hand or giving her a peck on the cheek. Even before we were married she was insecure - once she even said she thought I was going off her. She knew deep down that something wasn't right. After the wedding there was nowhere to hide, but she still went on believing my increasingly lame excuses for avoiding any kind of intimacy. Seriously Christian, you know Amira. She's a pampered princess, a trained beautician, who's spent her whole life looking in the mirror and fending guys off every time she stepped out of the front door. But her husband won't have sex with her, and she jumps to the immediate conclusion that she must be unattractive? She isn't stupid. Or blind. She had to know the problem lay elsewhere, she just didn't want to face it.'

'Of course she blamed herself. She didn't know you were gay.'

Syed noticed with relief that Christian's tactics had changed - from offensive to defensive. He gave a sad smile.

'Didn't she? What straight man never checks out other women? Not even a passing comment on a hot model in a magazine. How many straight Muslim guys have a gay best friend? And even if they did, how many would choose to spend more time with their gay best friend than with their own girlfriend? Who do you think put the idea that you fancied me into my mum's head? Why do you think she was so keen to have you involved in the wedding? Why do you think she hired you to decorate the flat? Why do you think she asked you for relationship advice?

'Because I was her friend.'

'Really? Because the way I remember it is that you had absolutely nothing in common, but Amira somehow latched onto you without any reason or encouragement. She persisted in confiding in you, when she could have talked to Chelsea, mum, Tanya, even Tambo, any one of a dozen other people. But instead she chose you.'

'But it doesn't make sense, Sy. If she knew about us, even subconsciously, why would she want to be my friend? Surely she'd be more inclined to... I dunno... scratch my eyes out, or squirt perfume in my face?'

Black humour. Christian was definitely thawing. And his use of 'Sy' hadn't gone unnoticed either.

'I don't know. I don't think she knew either. Maybe it was to get between us, or to get closer to me through you, or even to try and figure out how she could be more like you. You'd need a good psychologist and years of therapy to untangle it all, but I don't think it's a coincidence that the worse our marriage got, the closer she got to you.'

Christian struggled to make sense of the chaos in his head - memories were changing shape, new connections being made, fragments slotting into place like jigsaw pieces forming an unexpected picture. Sensing Christian's struggle, Syed took a step closer, and cupped Christian's face gently between his hands.

'Christian Clarke, the thing you have to realise is that I am the world's worst liar. Right from the beginning, I've never been able to fool you. Remember when I told you we couldn't shag during Ramamdan? You rumbled me within a day. The bidding for your Masala Queen shares? You knew at a glance I was up to something. How long did it take you to realise I was seeing mum? About two seconds. I'd seen Yasmin maybe twice before you found out. But more importantly than that, every time you've caught me hiding something, you've called me out on it. You haven't once stayed quiet and looked the other way.'

Syed's thumbs made slow, gentle strokes across Christian's cheeks, soothing away fears that had been buried for far too long.

'When I chose Amira, I wanted a facade to hide behind. When I chose you it was because I wanted to live my life openly and honestly. If something isn't right, you say so. You ask questions and you demand answers. You keep me honest, and I love you for it.'

As they kissed, the barbed wire coils round their hearts began to loosen and fall away, old wounds began to heal. As they pulled softly apart, Syed saw the tears of relief in Christian's eyes.

'Hey, no water works, big man! This is all good.'

'Yeah, it is. It's just... I had no idea I was carrying all that around. It must have been there right from the very beginning, from our very first kiss. But now, it's all gone. Well, most of it. I feel...' he struggled to find the right word.

'Free?'

'Yeah... and happy.'

Syed grinned, finding his own happiness in Christian's.

Suddenly a loud and insistent siren filled the flat, causing them both to jump in surprise and for Christian to clap his hands over his ears.

'What the hell is that?' he asked, as he looked around for the source of the alarm.

'Sorry! It's the oven timer.' yelled Syed, as he leapt across to the kitchen and hit at the button, bringing peace to the flat once more. 'I set it earlier - I didn't know it'd be so loud. We were meant to have a two hour time limit on our discussion - I guess time's up.'

Both instinctively glanced towards the sofa where it had started. It felt like a lifetime ago.

'So, what do we do now?' questioned Christian, noticing once again the bowl, matches, pens and post-it notes waiting patiently on the coffee table.

'Well, that's up to you.' Syed retrieved the small piece of paper that lay, discarded, on the floor. 'It says "you always hide things". If that's still a problem for you, then we fold it up and put it back into the bowl, and talk about it again another time. Or, if you can honestly say you can forgive me and put it behind you, then we burn it and move on.'

Syed folded and unfolded the crumpled fragment nervously in his fingers, unable to look at Christian, trying not to hope. He didn't have to hold his breath for long.

'Burn it.'

Syed's looked up with relief.

'You sure?'

'Burn it', he repeated, unwavering, certain, smiling.

Syed wasn't going to waste any more time. Handing the scrap of paper to Christian he grabbed the box of matches and struck one, shielding it tenderly as it blazed into life. Bringing paper and flame together, they stood in solemn silence as the words ignited, curled, blackened and crumbled, the final embers rising briefly into the air, before cooling, falling and turning to dust.

But nobody was there to witness their descent. Christian was already half way to the bedroom, hand clasped around Syed's wrist, pulling him behind as he put up a token resistance.

'We haven't finished the ritual, Christian! We've still got to do the love hearts.'

'We'll do them tomorrow.'

'But they're the best bit.'

'They really aren't.'

'But...'

'Bedroom. Now.'

Syed resisted no longer, and the block of pink, heart-shaped post it notes lay neglected on the table.

Outside in the square a car door slammed, a key turned in the ignition and an engine growled into life. A journey began, destination unknown.