Katie was scrubbing the bath when Roman burst into the flat, his face twisted with anger and panic.
“What have you done?!” he shouted, slamming the door behind him.
Katie straightened up instantly and stepped into the hallway.
“What’s happened?!” She stared at him, completely baffled.
“Why did you go to her?!” Roman snarled, inches from her face.
“To who?” Her eyes widened.
“Tamara! I warned you! I begged you not to interfere!”
“Rom, can you just explain properly? What’s going on?”
“You told her? About us?!” Roman was breathing hard, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“Yes, I did. And she understood, believe it or not. She said she wouldn’t stand in the way of our happiness. I’ve already been looking at wedding dresses—look how gorgeous this one is!”
“A dress? A wedding?!” Roman let out a strained laugh. “Katie, have you lost your mind?”
“I thought you’d thank me,” she said earnestly. “I did it so you wouldn’t have to struggle anymore. You said she was fragile, that she’d fall apart if you left. But she’s stronger than you thought. She let you go.”
Roman slowly sank into an armchair, then stood again, staring at Katie as if seeing her for the first time.
“You don’t get it…” He didn’t finish. Grabbing his bag, he walked out, leaving the door wide open.
He couldn’t leave Tamara. Not now, not ever. Because she was the one who pulled him out of rock bottom when he had barely fifty quid left in his wallet. She gave him everything—a job, a place to live, a car, status. Everything he’d only dreamed of while crammed into a tiny flat with a mate.
Back then, he was just an ordinary sales assistant, living paycheck to paycheck, skimping on meals to afford a café trip once a month. Women noticed him, but nothing ever stuck—either they barely scraped by or commuted from the suburbs on trains. He wanted more—glamour, comfort, a taste of success.
That’s how he ended up at a gym, through a free trial. And that’s where he spotted Tamara. Slim, polished, confident. A decade older, but with a charm he couldn’t resist. And—crucially—flush with cash. She owned her own business.
He made sure their paths “accidentally” crossed more often. One day, Tamara offered him a job—pay double his old salary. Then a flat. Then a car. Soon, he was waking up in her apartment, driving her car, working in her company. Everything decided for him. All he had to do was nod.
But luxury bred ingratitude. He started thinking he deserved better. Enter Katie—young, fiery, carefree. They met in secret. She knew about Tamara and wanted him to leave. He hesitated.
Then, when Katie told him she was pregnant, he vanished. Ignored her calls. So she went to Tamara.
But Tamara didn’t cry. Didn’t make a scene. She listened calmly, thanked Katie, and said,
“If you’re having a child, he should be with you. I won’t interfere. Not for a second.”
When Roman came home, suitcases waited by the door. Tamara handed him the keys and wished him luck. He stammered that Katie had lied, that it was a setup. No one listened. He left—jobless, carless, homeless.
By evening, he found a cramped bedsit. Two weeks later, he landed a shop job—fancy title, “floor manager,” but really just explaining the difference between sofas to customers. He blocked Katie, his last message reading, “Sort it out yourself.”
He didn’t feel guilty. To him, everyone else was at fault—women, circumstances, anyone but himself.
Soon after, Katie learned the test was wrong—no baby. But the hurt remained.
“I trusted him,” she sobbed to a friend. “He used me.”
“Katie, you’re a grown woman,” her friend sighed. “And you fell for that fairy tale? A ‘boy wonder holding the whole company together’? Don’t be daft.”
“But I believed him…”
“Exactly. And look where that got you.”
