Katie was scrubbing the bathtub when Roman stormed into the flat, his face twisted with fury and panic.
“What have you done?!” he shouted, slamming the door behind him.
Katie straightened instantly and stepped into the hallway.
“What’s happened?” she asked, bewildered.
“Why did you go to her?!” he snapped, glaring at her.
“To who?” Katie’s eyes widened.
“Tamara! I told you not to interfere!”
“Roman, can you just explain properly?”
“You told her, didn’t you? About us?” His breath came fast as he wiped sweat from his brow.
“Yes, I did. And she understood me—imagine that? She said she wouldn’t stand in the way of our happiness. I’ve already picked out a wedding dress—look how gorgeous it is!”
“Dress? Wedding?!” Roman let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “Katie, are you out of your mind?”
“I thought you’d thank me,” she said earnestly. “I did what you couldn’t. You said she was fragile, that she’d fall apart if you left. But she was stronger than that. She let you go.”
Roman sank into the armchair, then stood again, staring at her as if seeing her for the first time.
“You don’t get it…” He grabbed his bag and left without shutting the door.
He couldn’t leave Tamara. Not now, not ever. Because she was the one who pulled him from rock bottom when he had nothing but a measly twenty pounds left in his wallet. She gave him everything—a job, a home, a car, status. All the things he’d only dreamed of while crammed in a tiny flat-share with a mate.
Back then, he was just a low-level salesman, scraping by paycheck to paycheck, skipping meals just to afford a coffee once a month. Women glanced his way, but nothing stuck—they either lived in rented rooms or commuted from the suburbs. He wanted more—the good life, luxury, the taste of success.
Then he spotted Tamara at the gym—on a free trial day. She was polished, confident, a decade older but magnetic. And most importantly, she had money. Her own business.
He made sure their paths crossed often. One day, Tamara offered him a job—double his old salary. Then a place to live. A car. Before he knew it, he woke up in her flat, drove her car, worked in her company. Decisions were made for him. All he had to do was nod.
But comfort bred ingratitude. He started thinking he deserved better. Enter Katie—young, vibrant, carefree. They met in secret. She knew about Tamara and wanted him to leave. He stalled.
Then, when Katie announced she was pregnant, he vanished. Ignored her calls. So she went to Tamara.
But Tamara didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. She just listened, thanked Katie, and said,
“If there’s a child, it should be with its father. I won’t interfere. Not for a second.”
When Roman returned, suitcases waited by the door. Tamara handed him the keys and wished him well. He stammered excuses—that Katie made it up, that it was a setup. No one listened. He walked away—jobless, carless, homeless.
By evening, he found a room in a dodgy shared house. Two weeks later, he landed a job as a “sales advisor”—just another title for explaining sofa differences to customers. He blocked Katie, last texting: *Sort it out yourself.*
He didn’t feel guilty. To him, everyone else was to blame—women, circumstances, anyone but himself.
Katie soon learned the test was false—no baby. But the hurt remained.
“I believed him,” she sobbed to her friend. “He used me.”
“Katie, you’re a grown woman,” her friend sighed. “Did you really buy that ‘rising star of the company’ act? Don’t be naïve.”
“I just… trusted him.”
“Exactly. And that was your mistake.”
Some lies cost more than money—they cost pride, trust, and the truth about who you really are.
