It is late at night, and I am alone with my phone, scrolling through the Instagram page of a man I’ve recently started seeing. I move through old holiday photos and group shots, quietly searching for the women who came before me. I take care not to tap anything, aware that one accidental “like” would expose exactly what I’m doing.

Years ago, it was easy. People shared everything online, and you could trace entire relationships through albums and smiling poses. Now, in my thirties, I have to work harder. Past partners appear only in the background of a picture or in the outline of someone cycling just ahead of him. Still, I look.

I know the comparison is pointless, yet curiosity fills the gaps where information is missing. I imagine ex-girlfriends who seem more accomplished, more polished, or simply more impressive than I feel. That imagined perfection sends me back online, hoping that a few clues might settle my doubts.

This habit has a name now: Rebecca Syndrome, or retroactive jealousy. The idea comes from Daphne du Maurier’s novel, where a new wife becomes consumed by the lingering presence of the woman who came before her. Today, social media makes that same insecurity far easier to trigger.

Experts say the behavior often begins long before a current relationship. Old attachment wounds resurface when uncertainty creeps in. I recognise some of that in myself, shaped by moves in childhood and by past relationships that ended abruptly or dishonestly.

Scrolling never offers comfort. It only fuels questions that have no real answers. Social media shows only the best moments of any couple, not the reasons they eventually walked away from each other.

And that is what I try to remind myself when I feel pulled back into old photos. Whatever came before ended for a reason — and that is the only part that truly matters now.