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She had known at the time. She had, but she had refused to acknowledge it. To be fair, there was a lot going on in that moment. She was concentrating on keeping his wound covered, whilst straining to hear both what was happening on the landing of the floor above her, as well as the sirens of the approaching (‘please, let it be here soon’) ambulance.
As she held her jumper to his chest, their fingers laced together, the look he had given her could not have been clearer. It was pure, unadulterated love. Perhaps tinged with a little bit of fear. She may have interpreted his look outside the Ritz as drunken lust, which would be regretted in the morning, but there was no mistaking his expression laying in the hallway of the Upcott’s house. There was no lust there, just simple adoration. The look of a man who knew this could very well be the last thing he sees on this Earth... but who was basking in his luck that this very last view would be of her. He had tried to speak, but could not get the words out before slipping into unconsciousness.. but really, there was no need. She had understood exactly what he was trying to say.
She had known something else in that moment too, although again, it had remained unacknowledged. She knew, as she stared into his eyes, willing him to concentrate on staying awake, not only that she had spectacularly failed in her attempt to fall out of love with him, but also that she would never love another man for the rest of her life.
The only question that remained was... why was she acknowledging these things now? At 3am, sitting on the toilet seat in a 5 star hotel, well over a year after that horrible evening? Whilst her boyfriend... sorry, fiancé as of 6 hours ago, slept soundly in the adjoining bedroom?
What a mess. She sobbed quietly.