Hatred
William stepped out of the office building and instinctively made his way to the car park, only to remember he’d left his car at the garage the day before. At first, he was annoyed, but then he thought it might be for the best. The idea of cramming into a stuffy, overcrowded bus during rush hour didn’t appeal, so he decided to walk. The only trouble was the darkening sky ahead, a thick black cloud creeping over the city, threatening thunder and a downpour.
William walked briskly, glancing up at the sky every so often. A deep roll of thunder echoed in the distance. He knew there was a café nearby—he passed it every day—but he’d never once gone inside. He quickened his pace.
Just as he reached the café, heavy raindrops began to fall, splashing against his head and shoulders. He barely made it through the door before a deafening crack of lightning split the sky, shaking the floor beneath his feet. Outside, the street darkened under the deluge.
Inside, the café was warm and dry. William scanned the room, spotting a few empty tables. The door swung open behind him, letting in the roar of the rain and two young women. He hurried to claim a table. The door kept opening as more people rushed in to escape the storm, filling the place with chatter about the sudden tempest.
A tall, serious-looking waitress approached him, placed a menu in front of him, and turned to leave, but he stopped her.
“Just the steak, no sides, a plain salad, and a coffee,” he said curtly.
She scribbled in her notepad, took the menu, and moved on to the next table. The café was filling up fast, and she was clearly rushed. Outside, the storm raged on.
The bartender turned up the music to drown out the sound of the rain. William waited for his order, relieved he’d found shelter—not just from the storm, but from going home, from facing his wife, from making excuses for why he was late.
He’d married Olivia eight years ago. Back then, she’d been lively, charming—everything had been perfect in those early months. Then, suddenly, she changed. A friend of hers had married a businessman, and Olivia grew bitterly envious. Suddenly, all she talked about were fur coats, diamonds, and facelifts.
“Liv, you don’t need any of that. You’re beautiful as you are.”
“Then I’ll be even more beautiful,” she’d retorted.
First, it was her nose—not the right shape. Then her lips were too thin, her figure too plain. William tried to dissuade her from altering herself, insisting that silicone and surgery wouldn’t make her happier.
“You only say that because you can’t afford it,” she snapped.
When he mentioned children, she refused outright.
“I’ll get fat, and you’ll stop loving me. Maybe when you earn enough, we’ll talk.”
William didn’t argue. He loved her. An old university friend had offered him a partnership in a new business venture—something stable, something with promise. He’d taken the risk. At first, it worked. He even upgraded his car—nothing brand new, but a step up from his father’s old banger.
Then it all fell apart. The tax office found irregularities, froze the accounts. The business stalled, and competitors muscled in, forcing them to sell. William was left with nothing.
Olivia called him a failure. Their arguments became relentless, smothering whatever love he’d once felt. He returned to his old job, living by routine, unable to muster the courage to leave.
***
A young couple took the table next to him. William watched them, remembering how he and Olivia had been just as hopelessly in love once. Where had it all gone?
His thoughts were interrupted by shouts from the bar. Two young women were fending off a drunk, belligerent man. They didn’t look like the usual sort who frequented this place—just students caught in the storm. The drunk lunged, grabbing one of the girls by the waist and dragging her toward the door. Her friend tried to intervene, but he shoved her hard, sending her crashing into the bar.
No one in the café moved to help.
William stood up and blocked the man’s path. The drunk glared at him, bull-like.
“What’s it to you? Piss off.” Without letting go of the girl, he threw a wild punch. William dodged and struck back. The man released the girl and lunged, fists flying. They brawled until William managed to knock him down. Someone shouted that the police had been called.
“Let’s get out of here,” the girl said, tugging at William’s hand.
His head throbbed from the blows, and the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. He’d taken a beating, but he didn’t argue—just followed her outside. The rain had eased to a drizzle. They turned a corner.
“There’s a chemist nearby,” she said. “Let’s get those cuts cleaned up.”
In the chemist’s, she bought antiseptic, carefully treating his wounds before covering them with plasters.
“Thank you,” William murmured.
They stood close. He caught the faint scent of her shampoo, the softness of her hands like butterfly wings. She was beautiful, he realised—really beautiful. Their eyes met, and she blushed.
Just then, her friend burst in.
“There you are! I’ve got us a taxi. Come on, Kate!”
Kate glanced at William. He smiled. Then she left with her friend.
Outside, the taxi was already pulling away.
William had only taken a few steps when he heard, “Wait!”
He turned. Kate was running toward him.
“What now?” her friend called from the cab.
“Go on ahead!” Kate waved her off, then turned back to William.
“I didn’t even ask your name. No one in there helped me—just you.”
“William.”
She didn’t ask where they were going, just walked beside him. He learned she’d just graduated, hadn’t even found a job yet.
He admitted he was married, though it was falling apart.
“I saw your ring,” she said quietly. “I was afraid I’d never see you again.”
And he wondered if it was fate. He could’ve taken the bus. The storm could’ve missed them. They might never have met. But they had.
His chest hadn’t felt this light in years.
“Wait—how far is your house?” Kate asked suddenly.
“We passed it a while ago,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to say goodbye.”
They walked back. William called her a cab and, while they waited, exchanged numbers.
When he got home, Olivia pounced.
“Where have you been?” She spotted the plasters, the dried blood on his lip. “You got into a fight?”
“At the café. Some bloke wouldn’t leave a girl alone…”
“You never stick up for me,” she muttered, stomping into the kitchen. The sound of clattering dishes followed.
“Liv, let’s divorce. We can’t go on like this.”
She whirled around. “I knew it! There’s someone else!”
She screamed, called him worthless, a failure.
“I wasted my best years on you!” In a rage, she grabbed a plate, swinging it at his head. He caught her wrist, and the plate shattered on the floor. Before she could grab another, he seized her.
“Calm down. There’s no one. But we’re miserable. Why stay?”
The next day, he rented a flat and left.
Shame kept him from calling Kate. He was older, still technically married. But when she rang him first, his heart leapt. He couldn’t push her away.
They started seeing each other—cinema dates, long walks. William filed for divorce, waived any claim to their shared assets. No children meant a quick registry office split. Only after the divorce did he invite Kate to his place.
A month later, she told him she was pregnant.
William was overjoyed. But Kate’s parents weren’t. A man ten years older, divorced, no property—just a car. Her mother made her disapproval plain. Her father stayed silent behind his newspaper, but his silence spoke volumes.
Still, they agreed to the wedding, even gifted them a small flat.
Kate suffered terrible morning sickness, lost weight, slept constantly, coughing weakly. William insisted she see a doctor.
“Pregnancy affects everyone differently,” the doctor said. “Nothing to worry about.”
But William wasn’t reassured. Other expectant mothers glowed—Kate was fading.
“Excuse me!” A nurse hurried after them. “I’ve seen this before. I don’t mean to frighten you, but…” She glanced at Kate and hesitated.
“Seen what?” William demanded.
She pressed a slip of paper into his hand. “My aunt. Tell her I sent you.”
“A witch?” he scoffed.
“No. But she understands these things. Go. Please.”
The next day, he went. An elderly woman answered, her gaze sharp.
“You were sent?”
“By your niece—Rita, from the hospital.”
She led him to aAnd as William stood there, watching his son take his first unsteady steps, he finally understood that some wounds heal only when love takes the place of all the hate, and with a quiet sigh, he let go of the past for good.
