It was dark outside. The bedroom curtains were open, showing the city like fairy lights stretched out below the apartment. Vincent lay still, thinking, his hands slowly wandering over Charlotte's stomach as she lay across him, her head rested on his shoulder, her eyes half closed.

"What was I?" Vincent asked suddenly.

Charlotte looked up, surprised by the question. She thought a moment.

"You were meant to be my best friend," she said dismissively.

"Was I? Because I thought I was meant to be your husband. You know, 'til death do us part' and all that." He looked at her, trying not to let anger and hurt creep through in his voice. Charlotte sighed and nestled into his chest.

"Vincent, I'm a lesbian. It's not your fault, it's not my fault, it's not my parents' fault."

"Why did you marry me?" he pushed, not letting her dismiss his questions one more time. Charlotte turned towards him, resting her chin on his chest. Her fingers moved over his face, his shoulders. She bent and kissed his chest before she spoke.

"I thought maybe I was just scared, you know? I had you, this wonderful man who was going to be everything for me. I was going to be married. And that's a scary thing for any girl. I mean, I'd always noticed girls, I guess. But I just somehow didn't notice that I did." She paused. Before he could speak, she continued.

"I wanted to be a good wife to you," she assured him. "I wanted us to live together forever. I never thought I'd marry you then leave you. It wasn't like that."

"What was it like? You thought you could turn yourself straight?"

"You weren't a test, if that's what you're thinking."

"I don't know what to think. I've never known what to think. I loved you. I thought things were wonderful. Then I hear that you're dating a girl, and I thought ... I thought wow, I must have been horrible to turn you to women."

Charlotte laughed.

"You didn't turn me to women," she assured him. "You just didn't turn me to men."

"Is that what I was meant to do? Turn you to men? You marry me and the women disappear?" Although his hands still gently stroked her arm, he couldn't hide the emotion in his voice. Charlotte sat to look directly at him.

"No, Vincent. I married you because I loved you."

"Loved me how?" he asked.

Charlotte paused, wanting to answer him truthfully. If they were to have this conversation, they were to do it properly, she decided.

"At the start? I don't know. I thought I loved you like a boyfriend, like a husband. I wanted to. It never occurred to me that I didn't. You were a man I loved, the man I loved most, the man I enjoyed spending my time with. That meant I'd marry you. I just never questioned that. Maybe I was wrong to not question it, I don't know. It just honestly never occurred to me that we weren't ... that we wouldn't ..." she trailed off, unsure of what to say. "But I could ask you the same, couldn't I? Why did you marry me?"

Vincent looked at her, surprised.

"I loved you. God, I still love you, Charlotte. You were everything to me. I was shattered when you left. I felt like you'd been lying to me all those years. You had been lying to me all those years. I felt like I was just some toy you used and tossed aside. I wanted to grow old with you, I wanted to share my life with you."

"Then why didn't you?" Charlotte retorted. "Why weren't you there for me? We were married for four years. You were never there. You were never home, and when you were you were a right pain in the arse. I needed you. It's not easy to realise that you're married and a lesbian, but that was just one of a million things I needed someone for. I needed a friend, Vincent. A best friend, someone to listen, someone to just hold me when I was lying in bed at night feeling so alone. You couldn't even be that."

"Oh, so it's my fault?" Vincent asked. "We ended because I was a shit of a husband and a crappy friend, is that it?"

"I didn't say that," Charlotte said.

"We ended cos you're a lesbian," he reminded her.

"I would have stayed."

Vincent looked at her. "No, you wouldn't. You wouldn't," he repeated as she started to protest. "You couldn't, Charlotte. You're a lesbian, for Christ's sake. You love girls. You fall in love with girls. It just wouldn't have ever worked. It couldn't have worked. You couldn't have gone on lying to yourself, to the world, to me. I wouldn't have let you."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Charlotte retorted. Vincent's expression turned to one of hurt, as his attempts at gentleness were thrown back in his face.

"OK, let's say it's bullshit. What's your version then? You stay? Forever? I'm the perfect husband and you stay married to me, perfectly happy, not checking out every girl who walks past, not wishing it was them you were going home to?"

"I would have stayed," Charlotte insisted through tears. Vincent reached out to stroke her hair and his tone became gentle once more.

"You couldn't. There weren't any choices. I could have been a better husband, but you could never have stayed. You are who you are, and I couldn't ask you not to be."

Charlotte sniffed deeply, staring at the ceiling, thinking. She looked back at him, and her face crumpled as she tried to smile and cry at once.

"I treated you so badly," she said, bringing her hand up to his where it still rested on her face. "Why don't you hate me?"

Vincent looked down at the bed, then back at her.

"I don't understand how they couldn't be in love with you, Charlotte. I've tried so many times not to be, and it's useless. It's really bloody useless. I wanted you back so many times, but seeing you at the hospital, with your work, your friends, your newfound lesbian air ..." Charlotte laughed with him. "... I let you go then. Not before. I was still clinging to you for so long, and I did hate you for a while, right at the start, when you first waltzed back into my life. When you hugged me in emergency I just wanted to cry, or throw you against a wall. I'm not sure which. But you're happy. Lonely, but happy. I can see that now. And I wouldn't ever want to take that away from you."

Charlotte leant her face into his hand, then brought it to her mouth, kissing his fingers. She looked into his eyes as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I don't know what to say," she whispered. "How do I take our pain away?"

Vincent's voice wavered as he whispered his reply. "I don't know," he said, pulling their faces close.