Nathan left the office building and, out of habit, headed for the car park—only to remember he’d dropped his car at the garage the day before. At first, he was annoyed, but then he figured it might be for the best. The thought of squeezing onto a packed, stuffy bus during rush hour didn’t appeal, so he decided to walk. The only bother was the rapidly darkening sky ahead. A thick, black cloud loomed over the city, threatening a storm.
As he walked, Nathan kept glancing up. A roll of thunder echoed in the distance. He knew there was a café around here somewhere—he passed it every day but had never gone in. Picking up his pace, he almost made it to the door when heavy raindrops began pelting his head and shoulders. He barely slipped inside before a deafening crack of thunder shook the ground. Outside, the sky turned black as torrential rain poured down.
The café was warm and dry. Nathan scanned the room and spotted a few empty tables. Behind him, the door swung open again, letting in the roar of the rain and two girls. He hurried to claim a table as more people rushed in, escaping the downpour. The place grew noisy with chatter about the storm.
A waitress approached—tall, serious-faced. She slid a menu in front of him and turned to leave, but he stopped her.
“Just the steak, no sides, a basic salad, and a coffee,” he said briskly.
She scribbled in her notepad, took the menu, and moved on, her workload clearly piling up as the storm raged outside. The bartender turned up the music, drowning out the rain. Nathan waited, relieved he’d made it inside in time. It was a good excuse to linger, to delay going home—to delay facing his wife and her inevitable complaints.
Eight years ago, he’d married lively, pretty Sophie. Before the wedding, everything had been perfect, even in those early months of marriage. Then Sophie changed. Her friend had married a businessman, and Sophie burned with envy. Suddenly, all she talked about was designer handbags, diamond rings, and facelifts.
“Soph, you don’t need any of that. You’re young and gorgeous.”
“I could be even more gorgeous,” she’d argue. One day it was her nose, the next her lips, then her figure—nothing was ever good enough. Nathan tried to talk her out of altering herself, insisting silicone and surgery wouldn’t make her happier.
“You only say that because you can’t afford it,” she’d snap.
And children? Out of the question.
“I’ll gain weight, and you’ll stop loving me. When you start earning properly, then we’ll talk about kids,” she’d declared once.
Nathan didn’t argue. He loved her. An old university mate had offered him a partnership in his business, promising trust and success. Nathan took the leap. At first, it worked—he even upgraded his car (still second-hand, but nicer).
Then it all collapsed. Tax issues froze their accounts. The business stalled, and competitors forced them to sell. Nathan was left with nothing.
Sophie called him a failure. The constant fights snuffed out his love. He returned to his old job, drifting through life, unable to leave—until tonight.
At a nearby table, a young couple laughed, reminding him of how he and Sophie used to be. Where had that gone?
A commotion at the bar snapped him from his thoughts. Two girls were fending off a drunk guy who’d gotten handsy. They didn’t look like the usual crowd—just students sheltering from the rain. The drunkard suddenly grabbed one and dragged her toward the door. Her friend tried to intervene, but he shoved her hard, sending her crashing into the bar. No one stepped in.
Nathan stood and blocked the guy’s path.
“What’s your problem? Piss off,” the man snarled, swinging at him. Nathan dodged and punched back. The guy released the girl and lunged. A brawl broke out, ending only when Nathan knocked him out cold. Someone shouted about calling the police.
“Let’s go—quick,” the girl urged, pulling Nathan’s arm.
His head throbbed, and he tasted blood from his split lip. He didn’t argue, just followed her outside. The rain had eased to a drizzle. They turned a corner.
“There’s a pharmacy nearby. Let’s patch you up.” Inside, she bought antiseptic and carefully tended to his cuts.
“Thank you,” he murmured, suddenly aware of how close they were. Her curly hair smelled like strawberries, and her touch was gentle. She was beautiful. Their eyes met, and she blushed.
Just then, her friend burst in. “There you are! The taxi’s here. Kate, come on!”
Kate hesitated, then smiled at him before leaving.
Nathan had only taken a few steps when he heard, “Wait!” He turned to see Kate running toward him.
“Kate! Come on!” her friend called impatiently from the taxi.
“Go without me,” Kate shouted back, then faced Nathan. “I didn’t even get your name. No one else stood up for me back there.”
“Nathan.”
She didn’t ask where they were going—just walked beside him. He learned she’d just graduated and hadn’t found work yet. He admitted he was married, though it was falling apart.
“I noticed your ring. I was scared I’d never see you again.”
It felt like fate. He could’ve taken the bus, the storm could’ve missed them—but they’d met. His chest buzzed with a feeling he hadn’t had with Sophie.
Eventually, Kate blinked. “Wait, how far is your place?”
“We passed it ages ago,” he admitted. “Didn’t want to say goodbye.”
They doubled back. He called her a taxi and swapped numbers before parting.
When Nathan got home, Sophie pounced. “Where were you?” She spotted the bandages. “You got in a fight?”
“At a café. Some guy harassed a girl—”
“Wish you cared that much about me,” she muttered, stomping to the kitchen.
Nathan followed. “Soph, let’s get a divorce. This isn’t working.”
“I knew it—you’re seeing someone!” She screamed insults, called him worthless.
“I gave you my best years!” In a rage, she grabbed a plate—he wrestled it from her before she could smash it over his head. It shattered on the floor.
Before she could grab another, he pinned her.
“Stop. There’s no one else. But we’re miserable. Why stay?”
The next day, he moved out.
He was ashamed to call Kate—older, still technically married. But when she called first, his heart leapt. He couldn’t push her away.
They started dating—cinema trips, long walks. He filed for divorce, waived any claims to shared assets. No kids meant it was quick. Only after the papers were signed did he invite Kate to his new place. A month later, she told him she was pregnant.
He was overjoyed, but her parents weren’t. Ten years older, divorced, no house—just a car. Her mother made her disapproval clear; her dad hid behind a newspaper, silence louder than words.
Still, they agreed to the wedding, even gifted them a small flat.
Morning sickness wrecked Kate. She barely ate, lost weight, slept constantly. The doctor dismissed it as normal, but Nathan wasn’t convinced.
Leaving the hospital, a nurse chased after them. “I’ve seen this before. It’s…” She glanced at Kate and hesitated.
“Seen what?” Nathan pressed.
She scribbled an address. “My aunt. Tell her I sent you. She can help.”
“A witch?”
“No. But she understands these things.”
Nathan ignored it at first, but doubt gnawed at him. The next day, he went. The elderly woman studied his palm.
“How far along?”
“What? Four months.”
“Someone close hates your wife and child. That hatred can kill. I can’t help. You must talk to her—make her forgive them. Time’s short.”
Nathan reeled. “We’re divorced. She wouldn’t—”
“Go. Now.”
He confronted Sophie, demanding she lift whatever curse she’d placed. She denied it until he gripped her wrist, fury in his eyes.
“Stop, or we all die.”
Terrified, she relented. “I won’t do it again!”
He left, slamming the door.
At home, Kate slept curled on the sofa. He whispered, “Forgive me. Just live, okay?”
She stirred. “Nathan?”
“I love you,” he said, kissing her nose.
Two days later, she was singing in the kitchen. Nathan choked back tears.
The birth was tough, but their son was healthy. Nathan doted on them both.
Months later, Sophie called from a hospital—a cancer ward. She was a ghost of herself.
“Thank you for coming. I’m dying. Forgive me.”
“I already have,” he said honestly.
She turned away. “Go. Please.”
He returned the next day to learn she’d died overnight. The doctor said it was hereditaryNathan held his son close that night, knowing some wounds heal but leave scars—and some love stories begin where others end.
