I dont hate you
“Nothings really changed, has it…”
Sarah fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve as she stared out the taxi window, watching the familiar streets of Canterbury flick by. These were the same roads shed once raced down hand-in-hand with William, laughing, innocently dreaming of the future. Seven years. Seven years away from home.
Thats us, love, the cabbie said kindly, snapping Sarah out of her thoughts.
The car slipped gently to a stop outside the old brick block where shed grown up. She checked for her phone on instinct, found her purse, paid the driver in pounds, and stepped out onto the curb. There was something about the air heredifferent from bustling London, where she lived her grown-up life now. Out of the car, she filled her lungs with the scents of newly mown grass drifting from a nearby green, the faint aroma of bread from the chippy around the corner, and something else, elusive and impossible to describe except as home. Her chest tightened painfully and sweetly all at onceboth joy and dread twisting together at what might be waiting for her.
Shed told herself this was just a brief visit. She would see Mum, sort out some paperwork thatd been gathering dust for ages. Shed wander her childhood haunts, see if the city was as she remembered. But beneath all that, she knew the real reason. She desperately wanted to see William. And maybejust maybesomething in her life might change.
She always knew he lived nearby. Shed never asked about him, not directly. But old friends would mention him now and thenso she learned hed changed jobs, now a manager, had bought a flat, moved his mum in, too. Every time she heard about him, shed picture himwondering what he looked like, what he was thinking, who he was with. But shed always put those thoughts aside, afraid to let them take up too much space in her heart.
*****
The next morning, Sarah decided to walk through the city centre. She made no planssimply letting herself breathe, soaking up the sights and sounds of the streets that used to be her own. She lingered by shop windows, catching herself smile as she recognised things: the newsstand where she bought Beano comics, the bench shed giggled with her mates on after school, the tiny café where shed tried her first cappuccino and almost spilled it down a new blouse.
Then she saw him.
William, just across the street. He wasnt looking her wayhead down, deep in thought, his walk exactly as she remembered it: tall, easy, a bit slack, like he hadnt a care in the world. Same hair, same posturenothing had changed in years.
Without thinking, she darted across the road. The crossing light blinked yellow, someone honked, but she barely registered it. Her feet moved on their own, and her heart thudded in her chest so loudly she thought everyone could hear it.
William! she called, breathless as she caught him just by a newsagent.
He turned. No smile, no angernothing. Blank as a new page.
“Sarah?” he said, evenly, as if greeting an acquaintance rather than someone hed once planned his life around.
That cool, measured voice hit her harder than a slap. All the words shed bottled up for years tumbled out in a rush, her own voice trembling, tears crowding her eyes.
WillIm… Im so sorry, she barely managed. I know Ive got no right to even talk to you, but She broke off, breath hitching, not even bothering to brush away the tears streaking her cheeks. I love you. I still do. Please, Will, Im so sorry. Please forgive me.
She spoke quickly, tripping over apologies and explanations and desperate pleas. These were the words shed rehearsed silently through endless nights, but now they fell out raw, unpolished, truer than shed ever dared say aloud.
She flung her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his chest as if holding him tight enough could rewind the lost years. For an instant, the world faded awaythe traffic, the passers-by, the noiseleaving just his warmth and her wild hope that hed hug her back.
William didnt pull away at once. For a single heartbeat, she felt him faltershoulders slackening, arms rising ever so slightly. That glimmer of hope flashed bright inside her: maybe, just maybe, there was still a path back. Maybe hed kept the memories close, too…
One brief flickerand then gone. Williams hands closed firmly on her shoulders and he gently but unyieldingly set her aside. His face was calm, distant, and cold; the boy shed laughed with and dreamed beside was gone. This was a man now, and his feelings were locked far behind immovable walls.
Go, he whispered in her ear.
He said it softly, flatly, as though she meant nothing to him. No malice, just emptiness.
I hate you. He spat the words a moment later, eyes suddenly burning with unmistakable contempt.
Then he turned and walked away, never glancing back. Sarah stood frozen, deafened by the rush of city life resuming around her. Shoppers bustled past, cars hooted, somewhere children shouted in laughter. Occasionally someone shot her an odd looka young woman rooted to the spot, pale and motionless in broad daylight. She saw none of it.
All she heard was his dwindling footfall and the sound of her own panicked breath. Seconds stretched endlessly, and in her mind, one phrase echoed over and over: Its over. For good.
She dragged herself back home, legs numb and useless beneath her, eyes glazed, mind empty but for his words, pounding inside her skull.
When she reached her mothers house, she didnt try to explain. She simply crossed the threshold, sat at the kitchen table, and stared out the window. Mum saw the tear-stained cheeks, the hollow eyes, but said nothing. She only sighedquietly, as if shed been expecting this momentand put the kettle on. The whistle of boiling water, the smell of strong tea, the click of mugs on the counterso ordinary, so jarringly at odds with the turmoil inside Sarah. But it was these small, familiar rituals that eased her gently back toward reality.
He didnt forgive me, Sarah whispered, clutching her mug tight. The steam brushed her cheeks, but she barely felt it. Her fingers closed ever more tightly around the warm china, as if it might anchor her to the world.
Mum sat beside her, silently stroking her shouldersoft and practiced, a mothers touch that could reach through any pain. For a fleeting second, Sarah felt like a child again: wounded, lost, clinging to the illusion that Mum could solve anything.
You knew it might be like this, her Mum said quietly, without reproach, her voice heavy with sorrow.
I know. Sarahs reply was steady, but drained, as though shed rehearsed the line a hundred times. But I hoped. Foolish, isnt it?
Its not foolish, Mum said gently. But it was your choice. You hurt him, love. He was broken after you left like the boy in that old story, the one with a heart turned to ice. No ones managed to thaw it since.
Sarah leaned back, gaze unfocusing, old images swimming up from the past.
It had all seemed so obvious back then. She was twenty-two, living in colour, never doubting herself. And there was William: good, steadfast, always the solid ground beneath her feet. He wasnt one for grand declarations, but his actions spokehe was there, always, looking out for her.
But there was a problemor what Sarah had thought was a problem. William worked as a builder, studying at night, planning to start his own business. His dreams were bigbut slow in the making. She didnt want to wait.
She wasnt greedy. She wanted, not riches, but stability, predictability. She longed for certainty, a life mapped out, under her control. With William, everything feltup in the air. Odd jobs, night colleges, talk of one day. Nothing else seemed real.
So when her uncle in London offered her a job in his company, she leapt at itbarely giving it a second thought. Here was a real chance: solid, immediate, tangible.
There was another side to itthe one she dodged in her own mind. After moving to London, there was Alex: older, successful, comfortable in the city, with swagger and means. Shed met him by chance at a work do, dressed for once in something new, surrounded by strangers. He noticed. He made her feel seen, important. Flowers camesubtle, tasteful, never flashy. Then restaurant invitations, dinners in places shed only ever peered at through glass. He whisked her off to exhibitions, theatres, boutiques. A silk scarf here. A stylish dress there. Fancy shoes. Always telling her: she deserved more. She deserved better, and the universe owed her.
At first she demurred. None of this mattered, she told herself. But Alex insistedgentle, persistent, making her feel wanted and worthy of more. Gradually, she gave in. She was swept away by the warm glow of his world: cosseted evenings, the ease of taxi rides, shopping without counting pennies. And somewhere in that new glow, she slipped into his arms. Not out of love, but out of a craving for rest, comfort, and certainty. With him she never had to worry, never had to count, never had to wait. He took care of everything.
And Sarah liked it. So much that she forgot about the boy shed left behind. In fact, she grew to resent Williamscoffing that hed never amount to anything.
She came back to Canterbury, not for William, nor an honest chatnot even a friendly greeting. She came to flaunt her new successes, to show him what shed earned. Deep down, she longed for him to see she hadnt made a mistake, that shed escaped what used to weigh her down.
She planned her appearance meticulously. Chose the best café on the main streetone William sometimes visited after work. Wore a chic dress Alex had bought for her: elegant, understated, but expensive. Diamond ring sparkling on her finger, designer handbag on her arm.
When William stepped into the café, Sarah saw him instantly. She sat by the window, laughed loud at something her companion said, and turned just enough for William to notice. Their eyes locked. In his, she caught pain and bewildermenteverything shed refused to confront herself. But instead of looking away, she stared back, unflinching.
It felt like victory. She had proved her pointher life was full, shiny, secure. No more waiting for one day. She told herself she was satisfied.
But the moment William left, and she remained behind, laughter faded to emptiness. That ring, the bag, her perfectly poised companionthey all suddenly seemed hollow. She forced herself to smile, to continue the charade, but a voice inside her whispered, Was it worth it?
*****
The taste of victory soured slowly. Alex stayed attentive for a whiledinners, flowers, sweet words. But the shine dulled over time, the way a candle gutters once the wax is spent.
It cropped up in small ways at first. Petty criticism instead of gentleness. Pick something out yourself next time, instead of thoughtful gifts. Remarks about her looksMaybe you should start watching your diether laughYoure so loud, its unrefinedher friendsStill hanging about with all those small-town nobodies?
His presence became intermittent. Long business trips, evenings spent elsewhere, and weekends with just the empty flat for company. Sarah drifted through spacious rooms, fiddling with dresses in the wardrobe, the old tick of the clock taunting her. When she tried to talk, hed shrug:
Youve got everything you wanted. What else do you need?
Sarah invented excuses for him at firststress at work, the pressure of business. Perhaps she was too demanding, too clingy. But deep down she couldnt escape the truth: for Alex, shed been a novelty, a flashy new toy, nothing more. And now the novelty had worn off.
She endured it allthe jibes, the absences, the waiting. Because admitting shed made a mistake was unbearable. To confess the hollow glamour would mean admitting shed betrayed the one person who truly loved her.
Soon even the trappings of her new world rang empty. The elegant dresses hung limp in the wardrobe, jewellery lay untouched and alien, restaurants grew tiresome, the scent of expensive perfume made her feel sick inside.
She found herself staring out the window, wondering, “What if…” but always forcing herself to stop. Because that question was followed by another she dared not answer: and now what?
In those lonely evenings, when dusk settled and the flat was silent, Sarah realised those dreams of security were nothing on their own. What good was wealth or certainty if you had no one to share them with?
Her thoughts kept circling back to Williamhis hands, calloused and warm, his quiet smile, the way he spoke of their future simply, with conviction but without bravado. With him, shed once believed she was safe.
*****
A few days later, she strolled through the park where they used to while away hours. There was their old bench under the spreading sycamorewhere they’d sat and joked about nothing at all. She remembered him looking up at golden autumn leaves once and saying, “I want us to have a home together. Big windows, sunlight every morninga place thats always bright and happy. Shed smiledat the time, nothing more than a pretty dream. Now, that memory felt like something irreplaceably lost.
She paused, inhaled the crisp autumn air, struggling to pull herself together. Suddenly, she heard a familiar voice.
Sarah?
She turned. There stood Tomtheir mutual friend. He looked surprised, then grinned, delight flickering in his eyes.
I didnt expect to see you here, he said, eyebrows raised. How are you?
Sarah hesitated. She wanted to sound breezy, unaffected, but her voice trembled despite her effort.
Im… alright, she said, venturing a half-hearted smile. Just visiting Mum.
Tom nodded, appraising her gently but didnt pry. Instead, he nodded toward a bench.
Shall we sit? I was just taking a walk myself.
Sarah agreed. As they wandered, Tom filled her in on local news, his work, changes in town. His easy, friendly tone settled her nerves a little. But her mind kept returning to the pastthe strange unreality of being home, colliding with someone from another life.
After a pause, Tom looked at her carefully, then asked softly, Have you seen William?
Sarah dropped her gaze to the fallen leaves. She struggled for composure, memories flashing of yesterdays encounterhis coldness, his words. At length, she said, barely above a whisper, Yes. Yesterday.
And? Tom pressed gently.
He doesnt want to know me, she said quietly, the words stiff and flat. He hates me.
Tom sighed, sinking onto the bench beside her, forearms braced on his knees as he stared off through the gold haze of autumn. He was silent for a time, piecing thoughts together, before he spoke.
“You disappeared, Sarah. Just vanished. It was like youd stabbed him in the back. He was lost for ages.
Sarah clenched her fists, nails digging into skin. She knew this, but hearing it said aloud was something else entirely.
“I know,” she whispered. “I know I hurt him.”
Tom inclined his head, his voice gentle, nonjudgmental. “He tried to move onhe dated, but not for long. He says hes never been able to care for anyone like he did for you. That showy return of yours… I thought it might finish him off for good.”
Sarah nodded, silent. She could see it allWilliam forcing himself on, cringing every time he heard a voice like hers, battling with memories that wouldnt leave. It hurt more than anythingnot because hed suffered, but because it was her fault.
I didnt know it would be like this, she murmured, mostly to herself. I just wanted stability.
Tom didnt argue or lecture. He let her sit in the truth. The wind danced through the trees, childrens laughter echoing from the playground as life marched on.
Sarah pressed her palms tightly together, fighting tears that spilled anyway. Helpless agony filled hershe couldnt undo what shed done, couldnt wind back the years, couldnt erase it.
Im not asking for forgiveness, she said shakily, choking on her words. I just wanted him to know I am sorry. Every day, I regret what I did. Every day. It haunts me constantly. I keep thinking of what we had and how I ruined it.
Tom studied her, his eyes kind. He waited, choosing his words.
“Maybe he doesnt need to know, Sarah,” Tom said firmly but gently at last. “Leave him be, dont come back. You only make things worse. It took him so long to steady himself. After you showed up, it all came back again. Yesterday, he rang mehe was in a state I haven’t seen for years. Please, don’t do this to him.”
She bit her lip, but said nothing. Tom was right. Her return, her plea for forgiveness, only tore open scars William had fought to heal. Wanting absolution, shed only hurt him again.
*****
That night, Sarah sat by her mothers window, watching the city lights blur into golden mosaics as dusk slipped in. Outside, everything looked festive, alive. In her mind, old memories jittered like a scratchy old film.
She wondered how things might have turned out if shed stayed. Sharing the first rented flat, helping William build his business, muddling through problems, celebrating small victories, and making plans together. She thought of the happiness shed missed, the tender words left unspoken, the touches that never happened. She knewin a way more certain than ever beforethat there was no winding the clock back.
The next morning, she packed slowly, trying to delay, but inevitability always catches up. Her mother watched, sadness deepening the lines on her face, but said only, Take care of yourself.
Sarah nodded, kissed her mothers cheek, lingered one more moment in the scent of home, and slipped out the door.
At the station, she bought a ticket to London. She needed time to think, and hours in a train carriage of strangers might help.
As the train creaked and swayed over the rails, Sarah pressed her forehead to the glass, watching the city bleed into countrysideold terraces, overgrown playgrounds where shed once played, little shops glowing in the morning. Here and there, she saw neighbours on their way somewhere familiar, clutching shopping bags, umbrellas in the sunshine, bundling children along the pavement. All so normalyet, for her, impossibly remote now.
Somewhere in these streets, William lived. The man shed loved beyond reason. The man whod built her dreams with his own hands, whose arms had promised safety, whose heart shed shattered so carelessly. The man whobecause she could not say goodbyewas lost to her forever. No matter how she tried to convince herself otherwise.
*****
Six months passed. Sarah resumed her London life with its routinework, coffee with mates, polite conversations about nothing. Outwardly, everything looked as before: the same schedule, the same haunts. But something fundamental had shifted inside her. She no longer tried to bury the past in distractions or smother it in new purchases or sad little affairs. She faced ither mistake, the pain shed caused, her honest remorse.
She learned to get up each morning with the knowledge that the world still spun. She said quietly to herself, I did what I did. It was wrong. But I cant change it. From that acknowledgement came a fragile, dull peace. Not happiness, but maybe the first breath of calm in a long, long time.
One evening, as she stirred a pan of pasta, her phone vibrated with a quiet notification. A messagefrom a number she didnt know. It read only: I dont hate you. But I cant forgive you either.
She froze, the phone clutched in her hand, heart stilled and then thundering. Gently, she slid down to the kitchen floor, the mobile pressed to her chest, like she could reach through it, feel the thrum of the heart that sent those words.
She didnt know what it meantwhether it was a door reopened, or a final, gentle goodbye. But for the first time, it felt as though the thread between them hadnt entirely snapped. Gossamer thin, ready to break at a breath, but stilla link. Somewhere out there, someone was thinking of her. Someone, in spite of everything, had decided to let her know. Someone hadnt quite shut the door.
Sarah smiled through the salty blur of tears. The smile was weak, unsure, but it was real. Maybe this wasnt the end. Maybe, in some distant someday, they would be able to talkawkward, honest, no accusations, just honesty at last. Maybe theyd find the right words to help them both move onwhether together, or apart, but knowing, clear-eyed.
For now for now, it was enough. Enough to know she still mattered. Enough to know that, far away, in a city she once called home, there lived a man who remembered her not only as a mistake, but as a story intertwined with his own.
And for now, that was enough.
