I Dont Hate You
Nothings really changed. That was the first thought in my mind as I gazed out the taxi window, nervously picking at my sleeve. The familiar streets of my hometown slipped past on either sideroads I once raced down with Daniel, laughing and making wild plans for the future. Seven whole years. It had been seven years since I was last here.
Were here, the driver announced, gently pulling me from my reverie.
The taxi eased to a stop outside the entrance to the same old block of flats. I checked for my phone, handed over a twenty-pound note, took my change, and stepped out. The door clunked shut behind me. For a moment, I just stood there, breathing in the air of the town Id left behind. It was differentnot like the huge city where I live now. Here, every smell, every note of birdsong, seemed to wake something deep inside me. I caught the scent of freshly-cut grass drifting from the nearby park, the faint warmth of bread from the bakery on the corner, and something else, subtle and impossible to name: home. There was an ache in my chestpainful and sweet, a strange mixture of anxiety, anticipation, and nostalgia.
Id come only for a few days, officially to help my mum with the endless paperwork piling up, as usual. And I wanted to take a walk around the old neighbourhood, to see if it matched my memories after all these years. But deep down, I knew the real reason Id come: I desperately wanted to see Daniel. Maybe, just maybe, it could change everything.
He lived not far off, or so Id heard. Not that Id ever asked directly; I tried not to. But friends would mention him in passing changing jobs, now with a well-paid position, buying a flat, moving his mother in. Whenever his name came up, Id let myself picture him for a moment, wonder what he looked like now, what filled his days. Then Id chase the thoughts away, terrified of what theyd do to me if I let them stay.
****************************
The next day, I set out for the town centre. No plan reallyjust wanted to take it in as it was, let the daylight hit places that once shaped my small world. I strolled, peering into shop windows, smiling at the silly little things I recognised: a kiosk I used to buy comics from, a bench where we sat after school, the café where I had my first cappuccino and nearly spilled it all over my new blouse.
Thats when I saw him.
Daniel was heading down the other side of the street. He didnt notice mewalking with his head tilted slightly forward, deep in thought. I froze. My world spun so violently that for a split second, I forgot how to breathe. He was just the same as I rememberedtall, that loose, easy stride, even the same haircut.
I dashed across the road without thinking. The traffic lights flashed amber and someone beeped, but I was already halfway across by the time I noticed. Heart pounding, I caught up to him near the off-licence.
Daniel! I called out, my voice catching with nerves I hadnt expected.
He turned around, face utterly calm. No warmth, no anger. Nothing.
Emily? he said, as if he were making a polite, passing remark.
His voiceso flat, so emotionlesshit much harder than Id prepared for. Everything Id bottled up inside for seven years burst through at once. My eyes blurred, my voice trembled; I couldnt stop myself.
Daniel, II’m so sorry, I stammered, words tumbling out in a rush. I know Ive no right to even speak to you. But I just My composure crumbled, and the tears streamed down my cheeks unchecked. I love you. I always have. Forgive me. Please, Daniel, forgive me!
I spoke too fast, tripping over the wordsterrified that if I stopped, Id never start again. My head was spinning with all the explanations and apologies Id rehearsed for years, but all that escaped were the words Id hidden inside for so long.
I wrapped my arms around him, desperate, pressing against his chest as if it could turn back seven years, bring it all rushing back. In that moment, nothing else existedno busy high street, no passers-by, no time at all: just the hope that, for a split second, he might hug me back.
He didnt move away straightaway. For a moment, I thought I felt his arms twitchas though he, too, wanted to put everything right. Hope flared in me: maybe there was still a chance, maybe he remembered how it used to be.
But the feeling broke. He pushed me back, hands steady, gentle but unyielding. His face stayed expressionless, his gaze steady, almost cold. The Daniel Id knownmy Daniel, the one who laughed and dreamed with mewas gone. Standing before me was a man whose heart was locked away.
Go, he whispered in my ear.
He said it so quietly, so completely devoid of feeling, that it was as if I didnt matter in the least. Like I was a stranger deserving no more than a passing thought.
I hate you, he added after a moment, and this time, his eyes flashed with unmistakable contempt.
He turned away, heading down the street without looking back. I was left standing in the middle of the pavement, shell-shocked. Life carried on: people bustled past, traffic bleeped at the crossing, children laughed in the park. Some passers-by glanced at me, curiousor perhaps pityinga woman standing alone and pale, lost in the crowd. But I didnt notice. All I could hear was the dying echo of his footsteps, and my own ragged breath.
Each second was an eternity. All I could think was: This is the end. Forever.
I walked home in a daze, each step like walking through treacle, everything numb except for the sharp, ringing echo of his words.
When I got back to Mums flat, I didnt even try to explain. I just went straight to my old room and slumped in a chair by the window. Mum took one look at me, my puffy, tear-streaked face, and said nothing. She just sighedI’d swear shed been waiting for thisand headed to put the kettle on. The familiar pop and gurgle, the scent of hot tea, felt so absurdly normal that it almost grounded me.
He didnt forgive me, I whispered eventually, gripping my mug so tightly that my hand ached. I barely noticed the steam billowing up, staring into the amber tea and the flickering lamp glow.
Mum sat down beside me, her touch light and soothingjust as shed always done when I scraped a knee or fell out with friends. Somehow, it made me feel like a child all over again: small, fragile, as if all my grown-up decisions had dissolved.
You always knew it might go this way, Mum said softly, sadness rather than censure in her voice.
I did, I answered quietly, finally prising my gaze away from the mug. My voice was steady but heavy, as if Id been repeating the same phrase in my head each night. But I still hoped. Silly, isnt it?
Not silly, Mum replied gently. But, loveyou chose your path. You hurt Daniel, really hurt him. He just shut down. Almost turned to stone, like in those old stories. No ones managed to reach his heart since.
I sighed deeply, set down my tea, and let the memories comescenes from seven years ago coming back in ragged flashes.
Id been twenty-two thenwhen the entire future seemed bright, all obstacles temporary. Daniel was my anchorsteady, thoughtful, utterly reliable. He never made grand declarations, but was always there when I needed him: listening, helping, encouraging me in everything.
Looking back, the so-called problem was never truly a problem; not really. Daniel worked as a labourer on building sites, studying for a degree part-time, planning to start his own business. He was sensible, motivated, but it would take a while. And I, desperately, didnt want to wait.
It wasnt money I longed forjust some security, a feeling of control. I wanted to know that in a year, two, or five, I wouldnt be fighting to keep a roof over my head. With Daniel, everything felt uncertain: late nights, endless jobs, plans that were still just plans.
And so, when my uncle in London offered me a job with his company, I said yes. I didnt hesitate. Here was a concrete chancereal, tangible, irresistible.
There was more, of coursea secret I avoided, half-denied. Once in London, working among sharp, ambitious people, I met Richard. Older, established, with a commanding presence and a certainty I envied. Our paths first crossed at a work party; I felt lost in a dress that didnt feel like mine among colleagues so much older. Richard started talking to me, asking about my goals, my life.
He was never cheap with grand gestures. Flowers arrivednever vulgar, just thoughtfully chosen with a handwritten note. Then came dinners at restaurants Id once only admired through the window, invitations to exhibitions and shows, the sort of giftssilk scarves, delicate earrings, shoesId only ever dreamed of. With each new present, Richard reminded me how I deserved the best, that I ought never to settle, that fate had finally given me what I was owed.
At first, I resisted. I fumbled, blushed, stammered that I didnt need those things. But Richard was gentle, persistent, always assuring me that it was just a sign of his admiration. Gradually, I let myself be carried along. The new world was dazzling: candlelit meals, midnight car rides home, buying anything I liked without worrying over the price tag. It felt like a fairy tale.
Somewhere along the way, we started seeing each other. Not because I was swept off my feetI wasn’tbut because his life seemed so effortless, so reassuring. There were no worries about bills or late rent, no second-guessing whether tomorrow would be tougher than today. He took care of everything, and I let him.
And I liked it so much that Daniel drifted from my mind almost entirelyno, worse: I started to think of him with embarrassment, even contempt. I told myself hed never achieve anything.
Then I came back to my hometownnot to see Daniel, not to apologise, not even to say hello. I wanted to show him what Id become. To prove I was right, that Id made the right choice, that Id escaped the ambiguity that once scared me senseless.
I plotted out my visit. Chose the glitziest café in townthe one Daniel sometimes popped into after work. Put on the expensive dress Richard had gifted me for my last birthday, slender belt and all. Wore a ring with a gemstone the size of a walnutanother gift. Brandished my brand new handbag, fresh from the designers Autumn line.
When Daniel arrived, I made sure he saw me, tossing my head back in laughter, turning so our eyes would meet. In his look I read confusion, pain, surprise. But instead of blushing or glancing away, I held his gaze, forcing myself not to flinch.
At the time, it felt like victorya declaration. Id shown him, and myself, that Id done the right thing. That I was living, at last, the life I deserved. I convinced myself I felt proud, satisfied, triumphant.
But after he left, and I sat alone by the window, the laughter faded. I stared at my ring, my bag, the friend opposite me chatting away, and all at once felt empty. All these lovely things, the attention, the sense of successsuddenly they meant nothing. I kept up the conversation, I kept smiling, but somewhere inside was a little whisper: Was it worth it?
**********************
The supposed victory turned sour, though it took time to realise. At first, Richard still played the generous, attentive man: dinner invitations, bouquets, compliments. Then gradually, he cooled, as if someone had blown out his candle.
It started with little things. His soft words turned into careful criticisms. Instead of thoughtful gifts, hed text, Pick something up for yourself if anything at all. And then, out of nowhere, sharper comments crept inabout my appearance (Maybe you should make more of an effort), my laugh (Youre too loud, Emily, really. Its not ladylike), my friends (Still hanging out with all those small town types? Isnt it time you met some people with a bit more polish?).
He grew scarce, disappearing for days, sometimes weeks, leaving me alone in that beautiful flat hed chosen. Evenings bled into each other, broken only by the ticking of the clock or the mindless shuffling of hangers in my wardrobe. When I tried to talk to him, to ask for anything more, he would just wave me off, eyes on his phone.
You got what you wanted, didnt you? What more could you want from me?
I made excuses. His work is demanding. Hes under stress, Id tell myself. Its only a rough patch. He still cares. Im being too needy. But deep down, I knew the truth: I’d become just another pretty accessory to him, something shiny and new that soon lost its lustre.
So I stayed. I let it slide; I swallowed the coldness, the vanishing acts, the late-night messages that never came. I stayed, because I couldn’t bear to admit my mistake. To admit that the sparkling, picture-perfect life Id sacrificed so much to get had turned out hollow. That the man I left behindthe one with callused hands and dreams, who loved me for mehad been worth more than any of this.
Even the indulgence lost its shine. Dresses Id once coveted now hung limp on their hangers. Jewellery, formerly so precious, collected dust in a little wooden box. The restaurants Id loved at the startwith their fussy lighting and overpriced nibblesstarted to irritate me. The expensive perfume I used to douse myself in made me wince.
I caught myself, again and again, staring out of my window, watching strangers on the street and wondering: What ifalways cutting off the thought before it could bloom. Because the next question, What now?I couldnt answer.
Alone in that flat, as dusk thickened outside and silence pressed in, the foundations Id relied on felt suddenly fake. Stability and certaintythe dream Id chasedwere meaningless if shared with no one.
I began to remember Daniel. His hands, rough from brick dust but impossibly warm, the gentle crinkle of his smile whenever he was truly happy. The way he spoke about the futurenot in grand, empty promises, but in simple plans, quiet hope. Thered been a confidence in him that I always trusted. Now it hit me: that was what I needed, not expensive comforts.
******************************
On my third day back home, I wandered into the park where wed spent so many afternoons together. There was still that old bench under the wide maple where we used to talk about anything and everything. I remembered Daniel saying, One day, I want us to have a house with big windows so the sun pours in every morning. A place full of light and laughter. Then, I shrugged it off as a dream. Now it sounded like the only thing that mattered.
I stopped to breathe the crisp air and order my thoughts. Thats when I heard a familiar voice.
Emily?
I turned, surprised. It was Adam, a friend Daniel and I used to hang out with. He looked startled at first, then smiled.
Well, if it isnt Emily. Didnt expect to see you here, he said, raising his eyebrows. How are you?
I hesitated, searching for a casual reply. My voice quivered, but not as much as I feared.
Im alright, I said, managing a not too forced smile. Just visiting Mum.
Adam nodded, eyes lingering kindly, but didnt press me. Instead, he gestured at the bench.
Fancy a sit? I was just about to head there myself.
We made our way to the bench. Adam chatted awaywork, local news, who was moving house. His friendly tone eased me a bit, even as my insides churned. How strange it was, I thoughtto come home and meet someone who belonged to that lost world.
After a moments pause, Adam looked thoughtful, then asked gently, Seen Daniel?
I looked away, studying the fallen leaves at my feet. The memories of yesterdayhis indifferent look, the harsh wordsflooded back. Finally, I murmured, Yes. Yesterday.
And? Adams gaze was gentle, patient.
He wants nothing to do with me, I answered, voice low and steady. He hates me.
Adam sighed, sitting next to me, elbows on his knees as he stared into the park where golden leaves spun in the wind. After a moment, he spoke.
You should know, he took it badly. You vanished, Emily. No calls, no letters. For him, it was like a knife in the back.”
I clenched my fists in my lap, guilt twisting in my gut. Id always known, but hearing someone else say it was so much worse.
I know, I whispered. It was my fault.
He didnt scold or patronise, just kept his tone even. He tried to move on. Went out with someone, but it never worked. Said he couldnt love anyone else. It was rough. And after you showed off your new life so brazenlyI thought hed never come back from it.
I nodded quietly. In my mind, I pictured Daniel struggling to forget me, steeling himself against every hint of me in the towneach time some memory threatened to resurface. The pain Id caused him felt heavier than ever.
I thought I was making the right choice, I said, more to myself than Adam. All I wanted was a bit of security.
Adam let me be, sitting in the hush of the park with only the wind and children’s laughter for company. No need for more words.
Tears stung my eyes, my fingers pressed so tightly into my palms they left little crescents. I couldnt fix this, couldnt bring back the past, couldnt undo what Id done.
I dont want him to forgive me, I said, voice barely audible. I just I wanted him to knowI am sorry. I think about it every single day. I regret it. All of it.
Adams face softened further. He paused before speaking: Maybe he doesnt need to know. Just let him be, Emily. Please. Hes worked so hard to move on. Seeing you just opened those wounds again. Last night, he even called me drunk out of his mindI havent seen him like that in years. Dont do this to him. Let him live.
I bit my lip but said nothing. Adam was right. All my attempts at atonement hurt Daniel more than they ever helped. I wanted to make up for it, but maybe the only way to do that was to walk away.
***************************
That evening, I sat by the window in Mums poky lounge, watching the town come alive in little patches of light. It should have been beautiful, but I couldnt see itonly the looping film of my what ifs playing over and over in my head.
I pictured how things could have been if Id just stayed: our first flat together, Daniel starting his business, silly little triumphs, even arguments over nothing before making up again. So many moments lost, kind words unsaid, gentle touches missed. But the past cant be rewrittenI understood that now, in a way I never had before.
The next day, I left for London. I packed slowly, letting the ritual of folding and stacking calm me. Mum waited at the door, her face sad but resigneda silent blessing.
Take care, love, she whispered as I hugged her goodbye, breathing in that warm, familiar scent. Then I stepped out, carrying all my regrets behind me.
At the station, I bought a ticketjust a standard class, London-boundand waited for the train. A few hours of gentle rocking, strangers chatter and clickety-clackmaybe it would help me sort myself out.
As the train rolled out, I stared out the window. Tower blocks tiled with flowerpots, the playground I once played on, the old bakerys bold sign. The everyday, the ordinary. And yet, impossibly far away now.
Somewhere back there, among those grey streets and brick-built homes, lived the only man Id ever truly loved. The one whose eyes used to light up when he thought about our future, who never got the goodbye he deserved. And now he was lost to me foreverI knew that, however much I wished otherwise.
***************************
Half a year slipped by. I lived my life in London, went to work like clockwork, had coffee with friends on Sundays, gave mundane answers to everyones questions. To the world, nothing had changed: same pattern, same places, same polite conversations. But inside me, everything had shifted. I no longer hid from my mistake or tried to mask pain with busy schedules or impulse shopping. I accepted what Id done, painful as it was, and allowed myself to grieve.
I learned to wake each day reminding myself that life goes on. I could say, I made my choice. I was wrong, but thats done now. In this acceptance, I found an odd sense of peacenot happiness, but relief. I could look ahead. I could breathe.
Then one evening, while cooking dinner in my little flat, my phone tinged with a new message. A number I didnt know. One sentence on the screen: I dont hate you. But I cant forgive you, either.
My breath caught, my hands clenched around the phone. My heart stopped, thudded, then raced. I slid to the floor, pressing the phone to my chesttrying to feel, across cities and years, the heart that had sent me those words.
I didnt know what it meant. Was it a first step, or a last? I had no answer. But for the first time in so long, I felt a fragile cord still linking us. Delicate. Breakable. But still, a connection. Someone, out there, thought about me. Someone, despite everything, reached outeven if only just.
And for now, that was enough. For now, the knowledge that I hadnt become just a mistake in his historythat I was still, somehow, part of his storywas enough.
Maybe, one day, wed talk again. Calmly, with honesty, without anger or excuses. Maybe wed find words to help each other move ontogether or apart, but with clear hearts.
But for now, knowing he remembered me was enough to let me breathe. And for now, thats all I needed.
