I didn't wonder, when I married Eddie, whether I was making a mistake; whether I was choosing the wrong man; I didn't wonder if there was even a choice open to me.
I never considered that the wistful -- almost sad -- look in his eyes, as he held my daughter for the first time, might be because he wished that things were different.
When I filed for divorce, and celebrated my new beginning, I didn't hope that it was the start of a future that would include him. And, after the incident with Syd Goggle, I didn't wake up shaking every night for several weeks because, in my nightmares, each time I was too late, and I lost him.
The dopey look he had in eyes around Terri Miller had no affect on me at all. I never wished that he would look like that around me, and I was not secretly elated when I found out she had got married.
When I heard what had apparently happened between him and Lady Heather, it didn't bother me. I never wonder whether the rumours are true, or how close they actually got, and the thought that maybe he still sees her, or misses her, never enters my head.
I wasn't privately overjoyed to hear that he had turned down Sara's dinner invitation, and I don't grin slyly to myself every time I remember that. Just like a smile doesn't creep across my face when I remember the day of his operation and how backless his gown was.
I can go longer than a day without seeing him, and I don't spend all the time wondering what he's doing. I don't purposely make every route to anywhere in the lab include the corridor that passes his office, and if I do happen to pass by, it doesn't make me feel happy just to see him sitting there.
The fact that he asked Sofia to dinner doesn't worry me. I don't feel like she could take the place of me in his life. Because I'm not concerned that we may be drifting apart now that we are on separate shifts.
And this concern, that I do not have, doesn't make me feel like it's time to tell him how I feel.
Because there's nothing to tell.
I'm not in love.