Maybe it was the silent birth that did it. At the very least, that quickly became a metaphor for the soundless scream that seemed to characterise the life of Katie Holmes inside marriage to Tom Cruise.
Whatever the theories about their real life together, by 2012, with Scientology Summer camp looming for little Suri, Joey from Dawson's Creek had decided that she'd had enough.
So she got her independence and Tom got his decree nisi. The reign of TomKat came to an abrupt end. Not that any of us were that surprised. Ever since the fairytale beginnings which launched their love affair (his wild-eyed sofa-hopping on Oprah, her blank-eyed affirmations of true love) there had been a piquant flavour of crazy about it all. But hell, maybe that's what attracted young Holmes. Perhaps Tom's evangelical positivity and borderline hysteria were like catnip to a young girl who had just made the transition from TV to the silver screen.
But young love can't last for ever, and whether theirs was genuine, or whether Kate was picked from a wife-catalogue of Hollywood's lesser known and agreeable arriviste stars by direct order from L Ron Hubbard, it didn't stand the test of time.
Kate's swapped the private jets for a new life, where she has freedom to be papped while riding the subway in New York, leaving the gym, or turning up to work in a Broadway play. And as for Tom, well, he's now busy doing just doing what any Nineties action hero would do, he's putting his romantic disappointments behind him, and heading back out there to kick some ass.