**Diary Entry**
I did what I thought was right.
“Hello, Katie, can’t talk long—they’re beating up Nick!” The words hit me like a bolt from the blue. Catherine froze, fingers tightening around her phone. Her heart hammered, adrenaline flooding her veins. She barely had time to speak before the call cut out. Her husband had gone out for a pint with his mate after work—just a normal Friday evening. Now, everything had changed.
Catherine sprinted to the door, snatched her keys, and rushed outside. She called Nick again and again, but he didn’t answer. Panic swelled with every passing minute. Finally, she reached his friend, who’d been there when it happened.
“What the hell were you thinking, leaving him like that?!” Catherine shouted into the phone, choking back tears. “Why didn’t you help him?! Why call me instead of the police?!”
His voice trembled as he stammered excuses, saying he panicked and thought she should know. But it only stoked her fury. “You stepped aside, didn’t you? Left my husband there alone! Do you even realise what you’ve done?!” she spat, cutting off every attempt to speak.
She raced to the scene, praying she wasn’t too late. But when she arrived, the street was empty. A police car had already taken Nick—where, she didn’t know. Standing there alone, she’d never felt so helpless.
The next morning, she went to the station and learned Nick had been arrested for disorderly conduct. Some passerby had reported the fight, but no one saw the real attackers—just Nick and his mate, made to look like instigators.
Catherine was livid. She argued with the officers, insisting Nick was the victim, but they just shrugged. His mate, the coward she’d cursed all night, was safely at home, fast asleep, untouched by guilt.
She spent the day hunting down witnesses, gathering proof. Finally, someone stepped forward, confirming they saw Nick jumped by a gang. It was enough to get him released.
That evening, Catherine met Nick outside the station. He looked exhausted, defeated. She held him tight, pouring all her love into that embrace—but inside, rage still simmered. She couldn’t forgive his mate’s spinelessness. Nick was lucky it hadn’t been worse.
Later, Nick called his friend. “How could you just stand there and watch?”
“I don’t know, mate,” his friend mumbled. “Fear took over. I wanted to help but couldn’t. You know I’ve always been a coward. When I saw those blokes on you, my first thought was saving myself. I know how awful that sounds, but… I did what I thought was right.”
“Right,” Nick said flatly, ending the call. Some friend.
The bloke kept trying to explain—cowardice wasn’t a choice, just how he was wired. He’d spent his whole life avoiding fights, dodging trouble. That night just proved it. He swore it shouldn’t ruin their friendship. They could just grab a pint, smooth things over.
But no excuse worked. Nick was done with him.