Hatred
Edward left the office building and instinctively turned toward the car park before remembering he’d taken his car to the garage the day before. At first, he was annoyed, but then he thought it might be for the best. The idea of a packed, stuffy bus during rush hour was unbearable, so he decided to walk. The only bother was the rapidly darkening sky ahead. A thick black cloud loomed over the city, threatening thunder and a downpour.
Edward walked, glancing up often. A deep rumble of thunder rolled in the distance. He knew there was a café somewhere along this route—he passed it every day—but he’d never gone inside. He quickened his pace.
Just as he reached the café, heavy raindrops splattered onto his head and shoulders. He barely made it through the door before a deafening crack of lightning struck overhead, shaking the floor beneath him. Outside, the world darkened under the relentless downpour.
Inside, the café was warm and dry. Edward scanned the room and spotted a few empty tables. Behind him, the door swung open again, letting in the roar of the storm and two young women. He hurried to claim a seat. The door kept opening as more people dashed in for shelter. The chatter grew loud as everyone discussed the storm.
A tall, serious waitress approached and placed a menu in front of him. She turned to leave, but Edward stopped her.
“Just the meat, no sides, a simple salad, and coffee,” he said briskly.
She scribbled in her notepad, took the menu, and moved on to the next table. The place had grown busy, and she worked quickly to serve everyone. Outside, the storm raged.
The bartender turned up the music, drowning out the rain. Edward waited for his order, relieved he’d found shelter in time, glad for an excuse not to go home, not to explain his delay to his wife.
He’d married eight years ago, to a pretty, spirited woman named Olivia. Before the wedding, everything had been perfect, just like those first few months of marriage. Then Olivia changed. Her best friend had married a businessman, and Olivia became consumed with envy. All she talked about were furs, diamonds, and facelifts.
“Liv, why? You’re young and beautiful.”
“I could be even more beautiful,” she’d argue.
One day, it was her nose, the next her thin lips, then her small chest.
Edward tried to dissuade her from altering herself. He told her that silicone wouldn’t make her more attractive—just the opposite.
“You’re only saying that because you can’t afford it,” Olivia would snap.
She refused to even discuss having children.
“I’ll get fat, and you’ll stop loving me. We can talk about a baby when you earn enough,” she declared one day.
Edward didn’t argue. He loved her. An old university friend had long urged him to join his business, promising they could build something great together. Edward took the leap. At first, things went well. He even traded in the used car his father had given him for a slightly better one.
Then everything collapsed. The tax office uncovered irregularities and froze their accounts. The business stalled, and soon competitors forced them to sell. Edward was left with nothing.
Olivia called him a failure. The constant arguments and complaints smothered his love for her. He returned to his old job, drifting through life, unable to muster the courage to leave.
***
A young couple sat at his table. Edward watched them and thought—he and Olivia had once been that happy. Where had it all gone?
Shouting from the bar pulled him from his thoughts. Two girls fended off a drunken man. They didn’t seem like regulars—just students seeking shelter. The man grew bolder, grabbing one and dragging her toward the exit. Her friend tried to intervene, but he shoved her hard against the bar. No one in the café moved to help.
Edward stood and blocked the man’s path. The drunk glared at him.
“What’s your problem? Move!” He swung a fist at Edward, who dodged and struck back. A scuffle broke out. Somehow, Edward knocked the man out cold. Someone shouted that the police had been called.
“Let’s get out of here,” the girl urged, pulling Edward’s hand.
His head throbbed, his lip split and bloody. He followed her outside. The rain had eased to a drizzle. They turned a corner.
“There’s a chemist nearby. Let’s clean those cuts.” He nodded. Inside, she bought antiseptic, tending to his wounds before covering them with plaster strips.
“Thank you,” Edward said.
They stood close. He caught the scent of her shampoo in her curly hair. *She’s beautiful,* he realized. *And her hands are gentle, like butterfly wings.* Their eyes met, and she blushed.
Her friend burst in. “There you are! I called a cab. Kate, come on!”
Kate looked at Edward. He smiled. She hesitated, then followed her friend outside. When Edward stepped onto the pavement, the cab was already pulling away.
He’d only walked a few steps when he heard, “Wait!” He turned to see Kate running toward him.
“Kate! Come on!” her friend called impatiently from the cab.
“Go ahead,” Kate shouted back, then faced Edward. “I never even asked your name. No one in there stood up for me except you.”
“Edward.”
She didn’t ask where they were going—just walked beside him. He learned she’d just graduated and hadn’t found work yet.
Edward admitted he was married, though it was a bad marriage.
“I noticed your ring. I was afraid I’d never see you again.”
He wondered if fate had played a part. He could’ve taken the bus, the storm could’ve missed them, they might never have met. But here they were. His heart hadn’t raced like this in years. With fiery Olivia, it had been different. No sparks, no butterflies.
“Oh, we’ve been walking forever. Where’s your house?” Kate asked suddenly.
“We passed it ages ago,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to say goodbye.”
They turned back. Edward called her a cab. While they waited, they exchanged numbers.
When he got home, Olivia pounced. “Where were you?” She saw the plasters on his face, the dried blood on his lip. “You got in a fight?”
“At the café, hiding from the storm. Some bloke was harassing a girl—”
“Wish you cared that much about me,” she muttered and stormed to the kitchen. The clatter of dishes followed.
“Liv, let’s divorce. We can’t go on like this,” Edward said when he entered.
“I knew it! There’s someone else!” She screamed, called him a worthless failure.
“I gave you my best years, and you—” Enraged, she swung a plate at his head. He caught her wrist before it connected. The plate shattered on the floor.
Before she could grab a pan, Edward pinned her arms.
“Calm down. There’s no one. But we’re miserable. Why stay with a failure?”
The next day, he rented a flat and left.
He was too ashamed to call Kate. Older, still technically married. But when she called him, his heart leapt. He couldn’t push her away.
They started seeing each other—films, walks. Edward filed for divorce, relinquishing any claim to their shared property. No kids 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.
Edward was overjoyed. But Kate’s parents disapproved. A man ten years older, divorced, no home—just a car. Her mother made her displeasure plain. Her father stayed silent behind his newspaper, but his silence spoke volumes.
Still, they agreed to the wedding, even gifting the couple a small flat.
Kate suffered terrible morning sickness. She barely ate, lost weight, slept constantly, coughed often. Edward insisted she see a doctor.
“Pregnancy affects everyone differently,” the doctor said. “Nothing alarming here.”
But Edward wasn’t reassured. The other expectant mothers glowed; Kate was fading.
“Excuse me!” A nurse from the doctor’s office caught up to them outside. “I’ve seen this before. I don’t mean to scare you, but this looks like…” She glanced at Kate and stopped.
“Like what?” Edward pressed.
“Take this.” She handed him an address. “My aunt. Say I sent you. She’ll help.”
“Is she some kind of witch?” Edward scoffed.
“Hardly. But she understands these things. Go see her.” She hurried off, leaving them bewildered.
“Don’t listen to her,” Edward told Kate. “I’m not taking you to any witch. You’ll be fine.” But he wasn’t convinced.
Torn, he went to the address the next day. An elderly woman with sharp eyes answered.
“Hello. I was told you could help.”
“Who sent you?”
“Your niece, Rita. At the hospital.”
She led him to a plain room—no crystal balls, no candles. They sat across from each other.
“Give me your handShe studied his palm with cool, dry fingers and finally said, “Forgiveness is the only cure—seek it before it’s too late.”
