The phone rang early in the morning. Still half-asleep, Natalie heard Victor’s hoarse, nervous voice on the other end:
“Natalie… I… I need to tell you something…” He paused, as if searching for the right words. “I’ve been thinking… I’m not ready. Do you understand? Not ready to get married. I’m lost. I don’t even know what I feel for you anymore.”
Natalie froze. Her heart pounded in her ears. She forced out the words:
“Are you serious? A week before the wedding?”
“There won’t be a wedding,” he said firmly, as if he’d rehearsed it.
“What?!” she gasped.
“I want to start fresh. Focus on my career, my goals. And you… you’ll find happiness. You deserve better.”
A click. He hung up.
Natalie sat motionless. Then, as if in a daze, she got up, walked to the cupboard, and pulled out a bottle of whisky. She drank straight from the glass. No snacks. No taste. No thoughts.
And then… she screamed so loudly the walls seemed to shudder.
Their story had lasted four years. It felt like love. Real love. A chance meeting—Natalie had brought her laptop to the repair shop, and Victor fixed it. When he returned it, he asked for her number. A few days later, he invited her out. She said yes. And just like that, it began.
Six months in, he confessed: he wanted to move abroad. More opportunities there, he said.
“Will you come with me?” he’d asked, half-expecting her to refuse.
But she went.
She left everything behind—her job, her friends, her family. Because she loved him. Because she believed in him. Because he was everything to her.
He went first to “get settled.” He met her at the airport—no flowers, no smile, no spark in his eyes.
“Aren’t you happy?” she whispered.
“Yeah, just tired. Stressful week.”
He took her not to a flat, but to a hostel, to a room divided by a curtain.
“I thought you’d rented a place…”
“I did at first,” he muttered. “Then the money ran out. Can’t find work.”
Natalie hugged him. Said they’d get through it. And she went to work. Not in her field, just wherever would take her. Cleaning, washing dishes, walking dogs. Side jobs. Anything.
She even got him a job. Talked to a client, persuaded them. Victor got his chance.
Things picked up. They found their footing. Rented a proper place. Dreamed of the future. Talked about a family.
But Victor never stayed anywhere long. Kept getting fired. Natalie carried the weight alone. Back to hostels, back to scraping by. She worked. He searched for himself.
“Vic, maybe enough?” Natalie finally snapped one day. “We’ve lived like drifters for nearly two years now. Back home, we had lives. Here, we’re barely surviving. Let’s go back.”
He said nothing. Then nodded. A month later, they were home.
Natalie went back to her old job. They welcomed her with open arms. Victor got hired on probation—through a recommendation. He passed. Acted like a kid on Christmas.
Two weeks later, he proposed: “Let’s register at the town hall?”
Natalie glowed. They planned the wedding. She stayed with her parents—moving in together before marriage was out of the question.
“My parents don’t believe in living together before marriage,” she explained.
“And yet you moved abroad with me?” he smirked.
“I told them I was visiting a friend. Didn’t say the truth.”
He laughed. She dreamed.
But soon, he got swept into a new project. Two weeks without calls. Without texts. Then it hit him—he didn’t miss her.
“Was I really about to marry her?” he thought. “Forever? Is this really what I want?”
He made up his mind. He called.
After that morning, Natalie took sick leave. Spent a week in bed. Crying. Not eating. Barely existing.
Then came the anger.
“So he’s confused? Doesn’t know what he feels?” she whispered to the empty room. “And what about me? I followed him to another country! Worked twice as hard! Couldn’t even say it to my face. Over the phone. A coward.”
First pain. Then resolve.
“Thank God!” she told herself. “I didn’t leave him—he left me. And that’s even better! The groom ran away? Then he lost me, not the other way around! Now I know—I come first. No more sacrifices. Only forward. Only me.”
She stepped outside. The city was in bloom. Spring sang in every step. Natalie walked—and smiled for the first time in ages. The sun shone just for her.
Yes, the memories lingered. The tears. The unanswered questions. But she didn’t call. Didn’t beg. Didn’t plead.
“Enough,” she repeated. “He was a lesson. Thank you for that. I’m stronger now. I’m smart, beautiful, my whole life’s ahead. Just keep walking. No looking back.”
A few months later, she gathered all the gifts, photos, little things that reminded her of him. Packed them in a box. Took it to the bin.
“Time for a fresh start,” she said to her mum with a smile.
And Victor?
He’s just… living. Word is, he’s job-hunting again.
