Cuddled on the sofa, I nestled into my boyfriend Marc's side and switched Gogglebox on.
‘Pass the crisps,’ he said. It was September 2017 and we'd just got our own place together.
I was 18 and studying to be a pastry chef while Marc, then 19, was between jobs.
When we'd met, just two months before, I wasn't looking for a relationship.
As a single mum to Lexie, then 3, she was my world.
But Marc had been so sweet from the start, I'd fallen head over heels.
‘I'll look after you and Lexie,’ he'd said, his kind blue eyes so genuine.
Moving in together felt so natural.
He was my knight in shining armour.
For a while, at least. One night, when we'd been living together for a few…
