I dont hate you
Nothings really changed, has it…
Violet kept fiddling nervously with the cuff of her sleeve, watching the streets drift by through the car window. Beyond the glass wove the familiar roads of her childhoodthe very ones shed once run along with Russell, laughing and plotting out their future. Seven years. It had been seven whole years since shed set foot in her hometown.
Were here, the driver called out gently, snapping her back to reality.
The taxi slowed to a stop outside the old block of flats. Instinctively, Violet checked her phone, grabbed some cash, paid him, and stepped out. The door thunked closed behind her, and for a moment she stood still, just breathing in the air of her hometown. It was differentcrisper, smaller somehow, compared to the sprawling city she now called home. Every little sound and scent unlocked something deep inside her: the sweet cut-grass aroma from the nearby patch of green, the yeasty warmth drifting from the corner bakery, something intangible and wordless that could only be called home. Her heart twistedpain and sweetness tangled together, as if she was both glad and terrified for whatever might come next.
She was back for just a few days, officially to help her mum with some paperwork shed been putting off for ages. She wanted to wander all the old places too, just to see if they matched up to her memories. And, deep down, there was another reasonmaybe the real reasonshe desperately wanted to see Russell again. Who knows, maybe everything could still change?
Violet knew Russell lived nearby. Not that shed ever gone out of her way to follow his life. Friends, whenever she bumped into them or exchanged messages online, would sometimes let his name slip. Shed pick up little scraps of news: hed changed jobs and landed something good, got himself a flat, moved his mum in to live with him. Every time she heard something about him, shed picture what he might look like now, what he was doing, what he might be thinking. But shed always force those thoughts away, scared they would take up too much space in her heart.
*****
Next day, Violet took herself for a walk through the town centre. No planshe just wanted to breathe the towns air, to see those old sights in daylight, to feel that old heartbeat of the streets that had once been part of her own rhythm. She ambled, paused at shop windows, flashed tiny smiles of surprise when she recognised something from the past: the newsagents kiosk where she used to buy magazines, the bench where shed sat after school with her mates, the café where shed tasted cappuccino for the first time and nearly spilled it on a brand-new blouse.
And then she saw him.
Russellon the other side of the street, not seeing her, head tipped slightly down, lost in thought. Violet froze. Everything flipped inside her so suddenly she forgot to breathe. He hadnt changed a bitstill tall, with that same easy, slightly unrushed gait she remembered from when they were both younger. Same silhouette, same movements, even the same haircut.
Without thinking, she dashed across the road. The light flashed amber, a horn blared somewhere, but she barely heard it. Her legs carried her forwards, her heart hammering loud as a drum.
Russell! she called, finally catching him up by a shop.
Her voice waveredshed never realised how much this moment would rattle her. He turned andnothing. No happiness, no anger. Nothing.
Violet? he said calmly, almost indifferent.
That toneflat, emotionlesshit harder than she expected. Everything shed locked away inside for the past seven years suddenly tumbled free. Her eyes filled with tears, her voice trembled, she couldnt stop herself.
Russell, I… Im so sorry, she managed, fumbling for the right words. I know I havent got the right to even talk to you, but I…she gave a sob, tried to get hold of her thoughts, but the tears rolled down her face unchecked. I love you. I still love you. Please, forgive me. Please!
Her words poured out fast, a tangle of apologies and explanations and desperate hopes, as if just stopping for breath would mean she couldnt go on. Only the most important words escapedall those others locked away for years.
She threw her arms round him, burying herself in his chest, as if she could pull the lost years back just by holding on tight enough. At that moment, the busy street, the passersby, even time itself stoppedjust the feel of his body, just the wild hope he might hug her back.
For a split second, Russell didnt pull away. It felt like he might have wavereda slight lowering of his shoulders, perhaps a faint movement of his arms, almost as though he wanted to return the embrace. That flicker of hope sparked: maybe, just maybe, it could still be fixed, maybe hed kept those memories too…
But the moment passed. Russell gently but firmly took her by the shoulders and pushed her back. His face stayed calm, almost blank, and his eyeshard, nearly cold. There was no trace left of the boy shed once laughed with, dreamed of the future with. Only a grown man, his feelings locked behind a fortress no one could touch.
Go away, he whispered in her ear.
He said it quietly, so devoid of emotion it was as if she meant absolutely nothing to him. Like she was a stranger, not worth another thought.
I hate you, he added after a beat, and only then did his eyes flash with raw contempt.
He turned and walked away, never looking round. Violet stood, stunned. The world didnt stop: people hurried to and fro, cars honked at the junction, children laughed somewhere down the road. A few people glanced at her, perhaps wondering why a woman would be standing in the middle of the street, face pale and eyes unfocused. She didnt notice.
Just the sound of his footsteps, fading, and her own breathbroken, ragged, helpless. Every second stretched on and on, with only one thought drumming inside her skull: This is the end. For good.
She somehow made it back home. Her legs felt like lead, every step a battle, but still she walked, staring ahead unseeing. Her mind was emptyno thoughts, no feelings, just the hollow echo of his words smashing around inside her.
When she slipped into her mums flat, she didnt even try to explain. She just shuffled to her room, sank into a chair, and stared out at the window. Her mum, catching sight of her tear-stained face and blank stare, didnt ask anything. She only sighed, as if shed been expecting this, and went to put the kettle on. The familiar sound of boiling water, the sharp scent of brewing teaso ordinary, in such stark contrast to the storm inside Violet. But that very ordinariness, that comfort, grounded her just enough.
He didnt forgive me, Violet whispered, clutching her tea. The warmth of the mug tickled her face, but she barely felt it. Her fingers squeezed tight, as if hoping to rescue something slipping through, her gaze fixed on the dark gold surface where the desk lamp glinted dully.
Her mum sat next to her, silent, gentle. She stroked Violets shoulders, just as she had when Violet came home with grazed knees or after a spat with friends. It made her feel suddenly small and vulnerable, as if all the grown up decisions and mistakes of the past years had evaporated.
You knew it would be like this, her mum said softly, without blame, just quiet sadness.
I did, Violet nodded, at last dragging her eyes from the cup. Her voice was steady but felt worn out, as though shed gone over this phrase a thousand times in her mind, preparing for it. But I hoped. Silly, right?
Not silly, her mum replied gently. Its justyou chose your path. You hurt Russell deeplyhe took a long time to recover from you leaving. He seemed to change, afterwards. Like he turned to stone inside.
Violet took a long breath, set her mug down, and leaned back in the chair. Scenes from seven years ago floated up unbidden.
Back then, everything seemed so simple. She was twenty-twothe age when the future shines brightly and every obstacle seems conquerable. Russell had always been theredependable, steady, the sort of boyfriend you could count on in any storm. He wasnt one for big declarations, but his actions spoke volumes: always there to help, to listen, to pick her up even in the small things.
But there was one problemor what Violet thought was a problem at the time. Russell worked on a construction site and studied in the evenings, dreaming of starting his own business. His plans made sense but would need time. Violet didnt want to wait.
It wasnt about being richshe just craved stability, the comfort of knowing that in one, two, five years, shed have a job, a home, a chance to build life by her own design. With Russell, everything felt too uncertain: relentless side jobs, evening classes, dreams that never materialised beyond sketches.
So when her uncle in London offered her a job at his firm, she said yes. No hesitation, no real doubts. It was a real, tangible chance she couldnt let pass.
And then, there was something else Violet tried not to admit. When she moved to London and started work, she met Ian. He was an established businessman, almost twice her age, chock full of self-assurance and used to getting his way. Theyd met by chanceat a work do, Violet self-conscious in her new dress among the seasoned crowd. Ian immediately made a beeline for her, talked to her about life, work, plans.
He wasnt shy with gesturesflowers sent to the office with little notes: For the most gorgeous girl in the place, invites to fancy restaurants shed only ever admired through the window, tickets to theatre shows and gallery openings, gifts of silk scarves, delicate jewellery, heels shed never have dared try on before. Every present came with a pep talk about how she deserved the best and should never settle, about grabbing what life offers.
At first, Violet shied awayawkward, protesting, insisting she didnt need all this. But Ian gently insisted. Slowly, she became used to his attention. That dazzling world sucked her in: dinners in plush restaurants, taxi rides across the city, the freedom to buy what she fancied without checking the price tag twice. It felt like a fairy tale she never wanted to wake up from.
And somewhere between all the newness, she found herself dating Ian. Not from fiery lust, but because his life was easy, sure-footed, risk-free. With him, there were no worries about bills or job security, no need to think about the future. He sorted everything, wrapping her in luxury.
She enjoyed it, honestly. Enjoyed it so much, she stopped thinking altogether about the heartbroken lad shed left behind. Worse, she began to look down on him, telling herself (and sometimes others) that Russell would never amount to anything.
Once, during one of her business trips home, she didnt really want to see Russell, nor explain herself, or even say hello. What she wanted was to show him her new life, parade what she deserved. Somewhere deep down she thought: let him see she made the right choice; that shed made something of herself and escaped the uncertainty that had hung over their relationship.
She planned it well, choosing a café on the main streetsomewhere Russell sometimes went for a coffee after work. She wore an expensive dress from Ian for her birthdayelegant, slim at the waist. On her finger sparkled a large ring (another Ian present), and in her hand, a designer handbag bought the day before.
When Russell walked in, she saw him straight away. She sat by the window, making sure he saw her laugh at something her companion said, turning just so he couldnt miss her. Their eyes met. She saw confusion, pain, surprise in hiseverything she was busy hiding from herself. But instead of shrinking, she stared him down.
It felt like victory at the time. She convinced herself there and then shed done the right thing, her new life was real, tangible, full of possibilities and comfort. She told herself she was satisfied, finally living what she deserved.
But when Russell left the café, and she was left there with her expensive ring and designer bag and her new boyfriend talking on beside her, her laughter dried up. For the first time, she found herself looking around at the luxury, her gifts, her companion, and felt nothing but empty. It all seemed cold, a bit false. Still she smiled, kept up the chatter, but inside a small voice started to ask: Was it worth it?
*****
Her triumph turned out to be bitter. That realisation came slowly, day by day, but grew more solid each time it crossed her mind. To begin with, Ian kept up his old ways with flowers, restaurants, compliments. But gradually his interest started to flicker out, like a candle running out of wax.
It started small. Warm words turned to cool remarks. Spontaneous presents were replaced with texts: Go buy yourself something. Then he grew abrupt, nitpickingher appearance (Maybe take a bit more care?), her laugh (Thats a bit brash, dont you think?), her friends (Still seeing those people from back home? Perhaps its time you made more… sophisticated friends?).
He got busier, vanished for days or weeks, leaving her alone in the flat hed rented. Violet spent long evenings on her own, listening to the tick of the clock or tidying the flat just for something to do. When she tried to talk about it, to say she missed him or needed more, he shrugged, not meeting her eyes:
You wanted this life. What more do you want?
She made excuseshe had a stressful business, he was tired, he just needed space. But inside, she knew it wasnt busyness or tiredness. He was already finished with her, just waiting for something new to come along.
She stayed. Endured his coldness, his absences, his careless words, because she was too scared to admit one simple truthshed chosen wrong. If the glamorous life was a hollow shell, shed have to admit something else: shed betrayed the one person whod loved her just as she was. Russell, with his calloused hands and big dreams, had valued her for herself and not for any picture of an ideal girlfriend.
Soon even the trappings of luxury were flat. Dresses that once made her heart leap now hung forgotten in the wardrobe. Her jewellery, once treasured, lay untouched. Even the restaurants shed loved at first now rubbed her up the wrong way. The perfume that used to symbolise her new lifenot even that could give her a lift.
Often, shed find herself gazing out the window at strangers below, thinking What if but then shed shut it down, afraid of trailing where those thoughts might lead. Because after the What if came the question with no answer: So what now?
Evenings grew lonelier, the city lights blurred into silent shadows, and her old craving for stability meant nothing. She pictured the flat shed once dreamed of, safety and comfortand yet here it was, all hers, but utterly meaningless if there was no one to share it with.
Her mind wandered to Russell. She remembered his handsrough from work, but warm, gentle, solid. His smilenever broad, but always real, shining through when he was really happy. The way hed talk about their future: never making big promises, just quietly believing that things would work out, making her feel safe, sure, brave. Now she longed for those days, for the certainty that, with him, she could face anything.
****
On her third day back at home, Violet wandered down to the park where theyd walked together as teenagers. There was the same old bench beneath a broad sycamoretheyd used to sit there, chatting about nothing, laughing at little things. She remembered once when, watching the leaves fall, Russell said, I want us to have a house of our own. With big windows, so the morning sun pours in. I want it to be full of light and happiness. Shed laughed, thinking it just an idle dream. Now, it came back as something precious, something gone for good.
She stopped, drawing in the chilly air, gathering her thoughts. And suddenly she heard a familiar voice:
Violet?
She turned. It was Tomtheir old friend. He looked surprised, then grinned, clearly pleased.
Didnt expect to see you here, he said, raising his eyebrows. How are you?
Violet hesitated, searching for the right words. She wanted to sound casual, but her voice faltered, though she tried to hide it.
Im okay, she managed, forcing a smile, which came out less strained than she thought. Just popped down to see Mum.
Tom nodded, giving her a searching look but not pressing further. Instead, he gestured to a bench nearby.
Want to sit for a bit? I was just taking a stroll myself.
Violet agreed, and they wandered over together. Tom started filling her in on his news, the little changes in town. His voice was steady, easy, and she felt herself relax just a little. It was odd, she thought, how quickly old ground could reappear when you came home.
Tom fell silent for a second, like he was weighing up something, then he quietly asked:
Have you seen Russell?
Violet dropped her gaze, watching the yellowed leaves at her feet. It took her a while to answer, memories flashing through her mindthe cold look, the knife-sharp words. At last she admitted:
Yes. Yesterday.
And? Tom asked gently.
He… he wants nothing to do with me. Violet forced the words out carefully, her voice even but heavy, as though she were holding back waves just under her skin. He hates me.
Tom gave a long sigh, sinking onto the bench beside her, elbows on knees, staring off deep into the park where the golden leaves swirled. He was quiet a moment, then he spoke quietly:
You know, it really knocked him flat. You just vanished, Violet. No call, no message. For him it felt like a punch in the back.
Violets fingers clenched, pain spreading inside. She knew all that, but hearing it out loud was a fresh blow.
I know, she whispered, barely audible. My fault.
Tom glanced at her but didnt scold or lecture. He just kept going, still gentle:
He tried to get over you. Dated someone for a little while, but it didnt work. Said he couldnt love anyone the way he loved you. It hurt him, Vi. And after your little show-off visit I thought he was going to shut everyone out completely.
Violet nodded silently. She could picture Russell trying to move on, pushing thoughts of her away, flinching whenever someone said her name or when an old memory cropped up. What stung wasnt just that hed sufferedbut that she had been the one to cause it.
I never meant for any of that, she said quietly, mostly to herself. I thought I was doing the right thing. I just wanted… what, certainty?
Tom didnt argue, didnt say she was wrong. He just sat beside her, letting her sit with her guilt. The wind tossed the leaves around their feet; children played off near the fountain. Life simply went on.
Violets fists cramped, nails biting her palms as she struggled not to cry, but the tears crept up anyway. The pain inside burned: she couldnt fix any of it, couldnt turn back time, couldnt erase what shed done.
I dont expect him to forgive me, she said in a shaking voice, the words tumbling out. I just wanted him to know Im sorry. I regret it, every single day. I cant stop thinking about it. About what I broke…
Tom looked at her long and steady, not judging, just silent. Then, softly but firmly, he said, Maybe he doesnt need to know. Let him be, Violet, dont come back againreally, youre only making it harder. It took him forever to pull himself together after you left. And your being here… Its shaken him up all over again. He called me last nightdrunk as a skunk. Nearly didnt recognise his voice. Dont ruin his life, Vi.
She bit her lip, silent, but knew Tom was right. Her turning up again, her trying to see Russell, only ripped open scars hed worked so hard to heal. Shed come hoping to do some good, maybe show she was sorry, but if she was honest shed just made things worse.
*****
That evening, Violet sat alone at her mothers window. The night outside flickered to lifeyellow, orange, whitemerging into a patchwork of city lights, glowing quietly, as if celebrating something. She didnt care for the view. Her thoughts swirled, scene after scene, like reels from an old film stuck on replay.
She pictured how life couldve beenif shed only stayed. How they might have moved into their first rented flat, how Russell wouldve built up his business, how they would have mapped out their future together, laughed over silly troubles, gathered small triumphs. She thought of all the happy moments lost, the words she never said, the cold nights shed spent wishing things were different. But you cant change the pastshe understood that now, plainly and deeply.
The next day, she packed upslowly, dragging out the farewells. Her mother stood in the doorway, quiet sorrow in her eyes.
Take care of yourself, her mum said as she stood in the hallway, suitcase at her feet.
Violet nodded, kissed her cheek, lingered for a moment to breathe in the smell of home, then stepped out into the morning.
She bought a train ticket back to London at the stationtime to think, she told herself. Maybe a few hours facing the window, with nothing but strangers for company, would help her make sense of what came next.
As the train glided out, rocking gently on the rails, Violet stared out at the town she was leaving behindthe low-rise flats, the balconies sprouting flowers, the tiny playground, the bakery with its chipped sign. People hurried past: one with shopping bags, another with an umbrella despite the clear skies, someone running for the bus. It was all so painfully ordinary, achingly familiar, but now felt a lifetime away.
Somewhere in those streets was the man shed loved more than anyone. The man whose eyes sparkled talking about the future, whose hands were rough from graft, but who could cradle her fingers with heartbreaking tenderness. The man shed never given the chance to say goodbye, to understand her leaving. He was gone from her nowforever, she could see that clearly.
*****
Half a year slipped by. Violet kept her little corner in London, went to work, met friends for coffee at weekends, deflected the gentle So how are you, really? questions. It all looked the same from the outside: same routines, same faces, same daily grind. But something inside her had changed for good. Shed stopped running from her past, stopped hiding from it behind shopping and parties and busy commutes. She faced ither mistake, the pain shed caused, and the truth that she really did regret it.
She learned to wake up telling herself, Life goes on. Learned to breathe a little easier with the thought, I did what I did. It was wrong, but nothing can undo it. With that came a strange, quiet reliefnot happiness, no, but room to keep living, room to look forward without panic.
One evening, while chopping vegetables for supper, her phone pinged with a new text. She wiped her hands, picked it up, and saw an unknown number. Just one line on the screen: I dont hate you. But I cant forgive you either.
She froze. Her fingers tightened round the phone, her heart skipped then galloped. She slid to the floor, pulling her knees in, clutching the phone to her chest as if she might somehow catch a heartbeat through itthe echo of that other hearts pain and hope, miles away.
She didnt know quite what it meant, didnt know whether to see it as some kind of opening, or as a final, gentle goodbye. But for the first time in forever, she felt a slender thread connecting them. Fragile, fraying, easy to snap, but therea thread all the same. Someone, somewhere, still thought of her. Someone had chosen to write, despite all the heartache. Someone hadnt shut the door entirely.
Violet smiled through her tearsa tentative, shaky smile, but real. Maybe it wasnt over. Maybe, one day, they could have a proper conversationno accusations, no self-defence, just truth. Maybe, one day, theyd find the words they both neededeven if it only meant moving on, separately, at peace.
For now For now, it was enough simply to know: she was rememberednot just as a guilty mistake, but as a piece of someones story.
And, for now, that was enough.
