I Don’t Hate You
Nothings really changed, has it
Harriet nervously fiddled with the edge of her jumper sleeve as she gazed out of the taxi window. Familiar streets shed known since childhood flashed pastthe same ones shed once raced down with Neil, laughing and dreaming of a future they might share. Seven years. Seven whole years since shed last been home.
Were here, called the driver, gently breaking her train of thought.
The taxi rolled to a stop in front of the old block of flats. Harriet checked for her mobile, paid the fare in pounds, and stepped outside. As the car door clunked shut, she stood, taking in the air of her hometown. It really did feel differentnothing like the huge city where she now lived. Here, every scent and sound felt as if it unlocked something inside her. She could smell freshly-cut grass from the nearby green, a trace of warm bread from the little bakery on the corner, and something elusive she could only call: home. Her heart tightenedpainfully, but also sweetlycaught between excitement and a fear of what lay ahead.
Shed only come for a few days. Officially, to help her mum sort out some paperwork that had been left far too long. She also wanted to stroll through her old haunts, to see if they matched her memories. But truthfully, in some secret corner of her soul, another reason lingereda desperate wish to see Neil. Maybe her life would change. Maybe
Harriet knew he lived nearby. She hadnt gone out of her way to follow his lifeshed never asked directly about him. Still, whenever friends caught up, or exchanged messages on Facebook, his name would slip in. Shed heard snippetshed landed a good job, bought a place, moved his mum in with him Each time, shed imagine what he looked like now, what he was doing, what he thought about. But shed always push those thoughts away, afraid to give them too much space in her heart.
**********************
The next day, Harriet decided to walk through the town centre. She had no plansjust wanted to fill her lungs with the air, see the sights in daylight, and feel the rhythm of the streets that once felt like her own. She ambled through the high street, glanced into shop windows, smiled faintly when she recognised something from her past: the newsagent stall where shed buy comics; the bench she and her friends would lounge on after school; the café where shed tried her first cappuccino and nearly spilled it on her new blouse.
Suddenly, she saw him.
Neil was walking on the opposite pavement, looking ahead, head tilted slightly, deep in thought. Harriet froze. Her whole body jolted so violently that she forgot to breathe. He hardly looked differentstill tall, with that laid-back gait shed cherished, the same silhouette, even the same hairstyle.
She didnt thinkjust darted across the street. The crossing light flashed amber, a car horn blared, but it barely registered. Her legs moved of their own accord; her heart thundered loud enough for all the town to hear.
Neil! she called as she caught up with him outside a shop.
Her voice quiveredshe hadnt realised how anxious she was. He turned, and nothing. No joy in those eyes, no anger. Nothing.
Harriet? he said, calm, almost indifferent.
That steady, emotionless tone hit her harder than shed expected. Everything bottled up over seven years burst free. Tears welled up, her voice trembled, and she couldnt stop.
Neil, I Im so sorry, she whispered, struggling for words. I know Ive no right, not even to talk to you, but I I love you. I still love you. Please forgive me. Please!
She spoke quickly, almost stumbling over her words, as though if she paused, shed never continue. Explanations and apologies whirled in her mind, but only the truest words escaped at lastwords shed locked up inside for so long.
She hugged him tightly to her, desperate to bring back what was lost seven years ago. For that moment, the bustling street, the strangers, time itself fadedthere was only the warmth of him, and hope that he might embrace her back.
For a split second, Neil didnt pull away. His shoulders dropped, arms half-lifted as if he was about to return the embrace. That brief motion lit a spark of hope in her heart. Maybe not all was lost. Maybe
But then, he firmly took her shoulders and, gently but unyieldingly, set her back. His face betrayed nothing; his eyes were hard, almost cold. No sign was left of the young man shed laughed and planned with. Now he was all grown up, feelings locked in a fortress she couldnt reach.
Go away, he whispered in her ear.
He was so quiet, so blank, it was as if she meant nothing at all. As if she were a stranger, not worth his time.
I hate you, he added with a flash of open contempt.
He turned and walked off, never looking back. Harriet stood, stunned. The world continued seamlessly: people rushed by, horns sounded at the junction, somewhere children giggled Passers-by cast curious glances, wondering perhaps what made a young woman stand white-faced in the middle of the town. She noticed none of it.
All she could hear was the fading sound of his footsteps and the rough, broken sound of her own breath. Each second lashed her heart, repeating the same refrain: Thats it. Its really over.
Harriet made her way home, her legs moving as though underwater, her eyes fixed ahead but not seeing. Her mind was emptyno thoughts, no feelings, only the dull echo of his words, beating inside her chest.
When she reached her mums flat she said nothing, just slipped into her old room, slumped into a chair and stared out at the grey sky. Mum saw her blotched cheeks and empty stare but didnt ask questions. She just sighed, as if this pain was long expected, and put the kettle on. The hissing water, the scent of brewing teathese small comforts felt so mundane, so at odds with the tempest raging insidebut it was exactly this ordinariness that helped Harriet start to return to herself.
He hasnt forgiven me, Harriet murmured, cupping the mug of hot tea in her hands. The warmth drifted against her face but she barely felt it. Her fingers clung tighter, as if they could seize something slipping away, eyes fixed on the golden swirl of the tea reflecting the lamp-light.
Her mother sat beside her, said nothing, only rubbed her shoulder gently, as shed done when Harriet was little and had come home with a grazed knee or after falling out with a friend. That simple gesture made Harriet feel briefly small again, like all the grown-up decisions and mistakes of the past years had melted away.
You knew it might be like this, Mum said softly, not accusing, only quietly sad.
I did, Harriet nodded at last, voice flat but tired, as if she had practised that answer a hundred times. I was just hoping anyway. Silly, isnt it?
Not silly, Mum said gently. You chose your path, thats all. You hurt Neil very badly, love. He took it hard after you went Like Kay, from the old fairy tale. Nobody ever could reach his heart again.
Harriet breathed in deeply, put her mug down, and leaned back, seeing once again scenes from seven years ago.
Back then, life had seemed so simple, so clear. She was twenty-twothe age when the future feels painted in bright colours and any obstacle seems surmountable. Neil was by her sidekind, reliable, the sort of man who would stand by her in any storm. He was never poetic or showy about feelings, but his actions did the talking: always there to help, to listen, to support her, even in small things.
But there was a problemor rather, what Harriet believed was a problem. Neil worked on a building site, studied part-time, and dreamed of setting up his own business. His dreams were solid, sensible, but required timeand Harriet didnt want to wait.
She didnt crave wealth. She wanted stability: to know that in a year, two, five, shed have a job, a home, a life on her own terms. With Neil, everything felt too precarious: endless temp jobs, nighttime studying, future dreams but nothing concrete. So, when her uncle in London offered her a job in his firm, she took itwithout a second thought. It was a real shot, and she couldnt pass it up.
There was another truth, the one she tried not to dwell on. Around the time she moved to London, she met Simon. He was a shrewd businessman, twice her age, with a forceful manner and a habit of getting what he wanted. Theyd met by chance at a company party, where she felt out of place among polished colleagues, and Simon immediately paid her attentionsat beside her, asked about her plans.
He didnt shower her with roses, just left small, tasteful bouquets at reception with notes: For someone wonderful. Then invites to smart restaurants, to theatres and art shows. He gave her silk scarves, delicate jewellery, sharp-heeled shoes. Each gift came with encouragementshe deserved better, she should never limit herself, that it was important to seize what life offered.
At first, Harriet resistedawkward, refusing at times, trying to say she didnt need such things. But Simon was gentle, insisting, promising he only wished to make her smile. She began to accept his attention. The new world sparkled: evenings in stylish restaurants, black cabs home, the thrill of buying what she fancied without hunting for marked-down prices. It all seemed like a fairytale dream.
Somewhere in these golden moments, she started dating Simon. Not through passion, but drawn by that shimmering, effortless world he created, where tomorrows worries never touched her, where money was no longer a problem. She liked that life. So much so, she stopped thinking of the lovesick boy shed left behind. More than that, she soon started to sneer, saying Neil would never make anything of himself.
One day, Harriet returned home. Not to see Neil, not to explain or to say hello. She wanted something elseto show him the life she lived now, to parade how well shed done. Somewhere inside, she wanted him to see shed been right, that shed made the right choice, that shed escaped the endless uncertainty theyd shared.
She planned it all out. She picked the café on the high street, the one Neil sometimes dropped into for coffee. She wore an elegant dress Simon had given hera slender belt, showing off her waist, a ring with a large stone sparkling on her finger. She carried the latest designer handbag shed just bought in Oxford Street.
When Neil entered, Harriet saw him instantly. She sat at the window, laughing noisily at her companions joke, turning so Neil couldnt miss her. Their eyes met. She saw confusion, hurt, disbeliefeverything shed forced herself to ignore. She held his gaze, refusing to look away.
She felt victorious then. Shed proved to him and herself shed chosen wisely. Her life wasnt endless talk of one day, but real opportunities and security. She told herself she was content, that she got what she deserved.
But as Neil left and she was left at the table, her laughter faded to silence. Her eyes darted to the ring, the bag, her companion who kept chattering away, and she felt a hollow emptiness. All the lovely things, the thoughtful gifts, the attentionsuddenly felt so distant, so false. She kept smiling and chatting, but her heart whispered: Was it worth it?
**********************
Her victory tasted bitterHarriet only fully realised later, day by day, as the truth grew clearer. At first, Simon kept up the image of the generous, thoughtful boyfriend: dinners out, bouquets, kind words. But as months slipped by, his interest dulledthe way a candle flickers as the wax runs out.
It started with little things. Instead of warmth, hed offer curt corrections. Instead of surprise giftsbrief messages: Pop to that shop, buy yourself something. Then sharper jabsshe should watch herself more, laugh less loudly, ditch her provincial friends for somebody more interesting.
He appeared less and less. Sometimes he was gone for days, even weeks, leaving her alone in the plush flat hed rented. Harriet filled the evenings in silence, counting the ticks of the clock, absent-mindedly tidying things she never touched. If she tried to talk, to explain loneliness, he just shrugged, eyes elsewhere:
You got what you wanted. What more do you want?
Harriet tried to excuse him. Its the stresshe works so hard, shed think. Or: He just needs time. She convinced herself these were only passing troubles; soon all would be well. But deep inside, she knew: it was never about stress or work. Shed become another glittering playthingpretty and new, but once the novelty faded, he lost interest.
She endured it allhis sharp words, his cold silences, his absences. She endured it because admitting otherwise meant shed failed. If she accepted that her new life was hollow, shed have to admit shed betrayed the only person whod ever truly loved her. That Neil, with his blue-collar job and humble dreams, was the one who cherished her for who she was, not what she wore or how she measured up to someone elses ideals.
Gradually, even the trappings of comfort stopped bringing any pleasure. The beautiful dresses hung limply in her wardrobe. Jewellery she once adored sat forgotten in its box. The restaurants shed lovedtheir soft lighting and elegant foodbecame a chore. The expensive perfume that used to symbolise her new life now made her stomach turn.
She found herself gazing out at strangers on the street below, asking: What if But shed cut off the thought, dreading the question that followed: What now?
In those lonely evenings, with twilight gathering beyond the windows and thick hush inside, Harriet brooded over how her craving for stability was nothing but an empty shell. Shed wanted certainty, no fear about money, everything mapped out and safe. But sitting alone in a handsome, well-furnished flat she realised: unless you have someone to share all that certainty and safety with, it means absolutely nothing.
Again and again, her mind wandered to Neil. Shed remember his hands: strong, roughened from work, always warm as he held hers. His smile: never flashy, just quiet, truea smile that belonged to actual joy. The way hed talk about the future; not with grand promises, just honest, believing everything would work out. And because he believed, Harriet never feared anything.
************************
On the third day back, Harriet wandered to the park where she and Neil used to walk. There, under the spreading maple tree, sat their old bench; theyd spent hours on it, sharing daft stories and laughter. Once, as leaves twirled down, Neil had said: One day, I want us to have a house of our own. With big windows for the sun to pour in, so its always light and happy. Shed only smiled, thinking it childish thennow, it sounded like something precious, lost forever.
As she paused, drawing in the autumn air, someone called her name:
Harriet?
She turned. It was TomNeils old friend. He looked surprised, but his face broke into a smile.
Didnt expect to see you here, he said, raising his eyebrows. Howre you doing?
Harriet hesitated a moment, searching for casual words, but her voice wavered though she tried to hide it.
Im alright, she tried to smile, the result less forced than shed feared. Visiting my mum.
Tom nodded, eyeing her but didnt pry. Instead, he gestured to the bench nearby:
Fancy sitting down? I was just rambling really, didnt know where to go.
Grateful, Harriet joined him. Tom chatted, filling her in on work, town gossip, the little changes shed missed. His voice was calm, friendly. It made her shoulders dropshe was almost at ease, surrounded by old familiarity and memories.
Tom paused, glanced away, then asked quietly:
So. Have you seen Neil?
Harriet looked down at the swirling leaves. Her mind flashed to yesterdays meetinghis cold eyes, those final, stinging words. She spoke at last:
Yes. Yesterday.
And? prompted Tom, not unkindly.
He he doesnt want to know me, Harriet forced out, her voice steady but heavy with pain. He hates me.
Tom sighed, perching beside her, elbows on knees, staring out into the misty avenue. After a minute, he spoke, voice low, deliberate:
You disappeared, Harriet. No calls, no messages. For him, it was like being stabbed in the back.
She clenched her hands, feeling her insides knot. Shed always known, deep down. But hearing someone else say it hurt more than she expected.
I know, she whispered. Its my fault.
But Tom didnt judge her. He just continued, still calm:
He tried to move on. Dated a couple of people, but it never worked. Said he couldnt love anyone like he loved you. He was miserable, you understand? The way you showed up in style I thought itd finish him off.
Harriet nodded mutely. She pictured Neil, forcing himself to carry on, flinching whenever a voice or memory reminded him of her. The thought didnt just hurt because of his painit hurt because she was the cause.
I didnt know it would turn out like this, she murmured, more to herself than Tom. I thought I was doing the right thing. I wanted something secure.
Tom didnt argue or plead for sympathy. He simply sat beside her in the gentle hush of the autumn park.
Harriets fingers dug in so hard her palms ached, tears burned behind her eyes, threatening to spill. She hurt, not because she wished for forgiveness, only because she wanted Neil to know she was sorrytruly, regretfully sorry. The memory of what theyd had haunted her, sharper now than ever before.
I dont expect him to forgive me, she said, voice shaking. I just want him to know I regret it all, every day. The guilt never leaves me. I always remember and I ruined everything.
Tom studied her, not shaming her with his eyes, only listening. After a long pause, he spoke softly, but firmly:
Maybe he doesnt need to know. Leave him be, Harriet. Dont come back. Your return only ripped open the wounds hed tried to heal. Yesterday, he rang mehe was in pieces. I havent seen him that drunk in years, if ever. Dont turn his life upside down again.
She bit her lip hard but said nothing. She knew Tom was right. Her return, her attempt to reuniteall it did was stir old pain shed had no right to touch. Hoping to pay for her mistake, shed only caused him fresh hurt.
*************************
That evening, Harriet sat by her window, staring down at the city sparkling into nightyellow, white, orange lights swirling in a jumble. The view was beautiful, but her mind was elsewhere, flicking through memories like a silent film she couldnt pause.
She imagined how life could have been if shed stayed. Their first rented flat, Neil building up his business, them planning a future together, laughing through the rough patches, delighted at small triumphs. She thought of the happiness shed missed, the comfort she hadnt returned, the love shed left unsaid. But you cant change the past. Now, she understood that clearer than shed ever done in her life.
The next day, she left. She packed her things quietly, dragging out the final moment. Her mum lingered at the door, eyes full of sadnessnot blame, only the heartbreak of seeing her daughter leave again.
Look after yourself, Mum said as Harriet, suitcase in hand, paused in the hall.
Harriet nodded, kissed her cheek, breathed in the familiar home smell, and stepped out.
At the station, she bought a ticket back to Londonshe needed to think. Two days on a train, among strangers It might help her figure out what to do with her life.
The train moved out, swaying gently. Harriet kept her gaze glued to the window: the terraced houses with flower boxes, the playground shed once run through with friends, the little bakery glowing in the dusk. People bustled aboutsomeone with shopping bags, another with an umbrella despite the sun, someone hurrying for a bus. All so normalso close, yet now so impossibly remote.
Somewhere back there, in those streets, was the man shed loved above all others. The man whod once dreamed with her, who could fix anything with his hands and warm a room with his laugh, who shed left without a word of goodbye. Now he was lost to her forever, as much as she longed to believe otherwise.
*************************
Six months went by. Harriet kept living in London, kept up the same routinework, chats with friends over coffee, polite answers to questions about her plans. Outwardly, nothing had changed: same rhythms, same places, same small talk. But inside, everything was different. She no longer ran from her pastshe looked at it plainly, accepted her mistake, the hurt shed caused, her real remorse.
She learnt to wake up with the thought that life keeps moving. She learnt to say, I did what I did. It was wrong, but I cant undo it. There was a strange, quiet comfort in accepting thisnot joy, but a breath, an easing of panic.
One evening, stirring dinner in her little kitchen, her phone pinged with a new text. She wiped her hand, picked it up. A message from an unfamiliar numbera single line:
I dont hate you. But I cant forgive you.
Harriet stood frozen. Her fingers clenched the phone to her heart, as if she could feel another heartbeat from the other enda heart belonging to the man whod sent those words.
She didnt know what it meant. She didnt know whether it was a step towards her, or a final goodbye. But for the first time, she felt a threada slender, fragile line reaching between them, not yet severed. Someone, far away, was thinking of her. Someone had chosen to write, despite pain and anger. Someone, perhaps, hadnt shut the door completely.
And that was enough for now.
Harriet smiled through tearshesitant, shaky, but real. Maybe this wasnt the end. Maybe, one day, they could speak againsoftly, calmly, with no blame, no excuses. Maybe theyd find words to move onwhether together or alone, but at least with understanding.
For now, it was enough to know she was still rememberednot just as a regret, but as a chapter in someones life.
And sometimes, simply knowing youre not forgotten is the beginning of learning to forgive yourself.
