I Dont Hate You
Nothings really changed, has it
Harriet fidgets nervously with her sleeve, gazing out the taxi window. Familiar streets flash bythose same roads shed once run down laughing with Daniel, making plans for a future she believed would last. Seven years. Seven whole years since shed last been home.
Were here, the drivers voice gently interrupts her thoughts.
The cab slows to a halt outside her mothers old council flata battered five-storey block that looks no different than the day she left. Harriet automatically checks her phone, fishes out a few pounds, pays the driver and steps out. The door shuts behind her with a dull thud. She stands still, breathing in the air of her hometown. It does feel differentnothing like that vast, ceaseless sprawl of London where shes spent the last few years. Here, every smell, every sound seems to wake some long-dormant part of her chest. The air carries a trace of freshly-mown grass from the nearby park, a faint whiff of bread from Rosemarys bakery on the cornerand something else, something intangible she cant call anything else but: home. The combination tightens her chest, sharp and sweet at once, like shes both comforted and frightened by what lies ahead.
Shes only here for a few days. Officially, to visit her mum and help with the NHS paperwork shes been putting off. But trulyshe wants to walk those streets of her youth, to see if theyre really as unchanged as she prays they are. Deep down, though, another reason churns: shes desperate to see Daniel again. Who knowsmaybe her life could change.
Harriet knows he lives just around the corner. Its not as if shes kept tabs on him, but now and again, friends would mention his name in casual conversation, or shed catch a glimpse of his new job, his new flat, the fact hed moved his mother in with him. Each time she heard about him, she imagined what he looked like now, whether he was happy, what he was thinking. Then shed force away the thoughts, terrified of giving them too much space in her heart.
***
The next day, Harriet decides to take a walk through the centre of town. She has no clear planshe just wants to breathe it all in, see the sun on the familiar buildings and rediscover the rhythm that once set the pace of her whole life. She strolls, peering into shop windows, offering pained half-smiles as half-forgotten memories jostle for attention: the newspaper kiosk where she bought her first comics, the old bench outside the station where shed sit with friends after school, the little coffee shop where she had her first cappuccino and nearly spilt it on her new blouse.
And then, quite suddenly, she sees him.
Daniels walking down the opposite side of the street, head dipped a little, deep in thought. Harriet freezes. Everything inside her flips so abruptly she forgets how to breathe. He hasnt changedstill tall, his gait the same easy stride she remembers from being seventeen. That same silhouette, those familiar movements, even the same haircut.
Without thinking, she bolts across the road. The pedestrian light blinks amber, a horn blares somewhere, but she barely hears it. Her legs carry her forward, her heart hammering in her chest so loudly shes sure the whole street can hear it.
Daniel! she calls out as she catches him outside the Co-op.
Her voice wobbles. She hadnt realised how much shes shaking. He turnsand nothing. No joy in his eyes. No anger. Nothing at all.
Harriet? he says calmly, almost indifferently.
The toneso controlled, flathits her harder than she expects. Everything shes kept buried for seven years surges up at once. Her eyes fill with tears, her voice shakes, and suddenly she cant hold back.
Daniel, IIm so sorry, she manages through trembling lips. I know Ive got no right to even speak to you, but I, she sobs, struggling for words. Tears stream down her cheeks and she makes no attempt to hide them. I still love you. I do. Im sorry. Pleaseplease forgive me!
Shes speaking too quickly, desperate, as if afraid shell lose the words forever if she stops. Explanations, excuses, apologiesthey all muddle inside her, but only the most important ones break free. The ones shes carried for so long.
She hugs him, pressing her face into his chest. In that moment, nothing exists but the warmth of him, the hope that she might turn back time with a simple embrace.
Daniel doesnt push her off straight away. For a split second, his shoulders drop and his arms twitch, as if he almost, almost hugs her back. A flash of hope dances in her: maybe things can still be fixed, maybe those memories still live in his heart, maybe theres even a future.
But the moment fades. Daniel squeezes her shoulders and gently, but firmly, steps backward. His face stays calm, almost expressionless, his gaze locked and cold. That soft, laughing boy she once dreamt with is gone. In his place stands a man, guarded by walls she cannot see through.
Go away, he whispers into her ear.
He says it with such chilling evenness, as if she means nothing at allas if shes a stranger, undeserving of any attention.
I hate you, he adds a heartbeat later, and from his eyes flashes a look of open contempt.
He turns and walks away, never looking back. Harriet stands in the street like shes been struck. Life all around her continues: people hurry past, horns honk at the nearby junction, somewhere childrens laughter echo across the park. A few passers-by stare, perhaps wondering why a young woman stands frozen, pale-faced, in the middle of the pavement. She notices none of it.
Only the fading beat of Daniels footsteps and her own ragged, helpless breathing. Each second crawls by, carrying just one overwhelming thought: Its over. For good.
She stumbles homeward, legs leaden, gaze empty. Her mind thrums with the echo of his wordsnothing else breaks through.
Back in the flat, Harriet says nothing to her mother. She slips into her room, sits at the table, stares blankly out the window. Her mum takes one look at her tear-stained face and hollow stare, and asks no questions. She just sighs softly, as if shed seen it coming all along, and puts the kettle on. The burble of boiling water, the comforting scent of Yorkshire Teatheyre so horribly ordinary, so at odds with the hurricane inside Harriet. Yet, somehow, the normality of it all begins to pull her back from the edge.
He hasnt forgiven me, she whispers, clinging to her mug as steam curls against her face. The warmth does little to thaw her numb fingers or frantic mind. Amber tea ripples in her cup, catching the glow of the lamp.
Her mother sits beside her, smoothing a hand gently over her shouldersoothing, familiarjust as shed done when Harriet returned home with a grazed knee or after a silly row at school. That simple touch makes Harriet feel small, fragile, as if the accumulated years and choices have suddenly vanished.
You knew it might be like this, her mother says softly, not accusing, just sad.
I did, Harriet nods, finally setting the cup down. Her voice is flat, spentthe words long rehearsed. But I hoped. Foolish, really?
Not foolish, her mum says quietly. But you made your choice. You hurt him terribly. Hes never been the same since. Likelike the boy from that old fairy tale who cant feel any more. No ones broken through to him since.
Harriet sighs, leans back. Memories from seven years ago drift into her mind.
Everything then seemed so simple, so clear. She was twenty-twoan age when dreams seem close enough to grab, and obstacles are just steppingstones. Daniel was her rocksteadfast, kind, always there when she needed him. He didnt have a way with words, but his actions shouted what she meant to him: always answering her call, listening, supporting her through every stumble.
But there was one problemat least, something Harriet called a problem then. Daniel worked on a building site, studied at night school, dreamt of starting his own business. His plans were solid but slow, needing more patience than Harriet wanted to scrape together.
She didnt crave wealth, not really. She wanted securitya life she could trust, a guarantee about tomorrow, a flat she could decorate just how she liked. But with Daniel, the future felt unsteady: endless shifts, evening courses, plans that never seemed to progress beyond hopeful sketches.
So, when her uncle in London offered her a job at his firm, Harriet said yesbarely hesitating. It was a real shot at something solid. She couldnt turn it down.
And then there was Toma truth Harriet tried hard to forget. Right about when she landed her new job in London, she met Tom: a successful businessman, twice her age, with polished manners and a way of always getting what he wanted. They met by chance at an after-work drinks. He noticed her immediately: sat beside her, asked questions about her ambitions, her future.
At first, the gifts made her uncomfortableflowers, tasteful bouquets with notes like, For the loveliest lady in the office. Then dinner invitations, restaurants shed only seen through fogged-up windows, evenings at theatre shows or galleries, elegant scarves, delicate jewellery, guess-as-you-like shopping sprees. Tom told her she deserved it, that a woman shouldnt limit herself, that it was good to accept what the world offered.
At first Harriet protested. But Tom insistedsaid it was just kindness, just appreciation. So she let herself be swept along. The shiny new reality enveloped her: nights out, cabs with soft leather seats, buying whatever she fancied without glancing at the price. It felt magicala dream you didnt want to leave.
Somewhere in all of it, she started dating Tom. Not from overwhelming desire, but because his life was so easy, so reassuring. With him, there was no worry about rent or train fareshe simply handled everything.
Harriet loved that life. She forgot all about Daniel, her homesick boyfriend. Worse: she began to sneer at him, telling herself Daniel would never amount to anything.
On her first trip home, her aim wasnt to see Daniel or set things straight. She wanted to show him what shed becomeprove how far shed come, that her choices had paid off. She picked a café she knew Daniel liked. Dressed in the most expensive dress Tom had bought her, slipped his flashy ring on her finger, perched a pristine designer handbag in her lap.
When Daniel walked in, she saw him immediately. She tossed her head back in laughter, making sure he saw her. Their eyes met: his were confused, hurt, startled. She met his gaze and didnt look away.
For a moment, she felt victorious. Shed proved herself, proved shed made the right choice. She convinced herself she was satisfied.
But after Daniel left, the laughter ebbed away. Harriet gazed at the thick gold ring, the expensive bag, her boyfriend chatting beside herand only felt emptiness. The gifts, the gestures, the attentionall suddenly looked fake.
Was it worth it, really?
***
The victory turned bitter. At first, Tom kept up the act: restaurants, occasional compliments, flowers now and then. But after a while the flame dwindled.
It showed in little things. Fewer kind words. Go buy yourself something if you wantscraps in place of surprise gifts. Quicker to criticise her laughter, her accent: You need to take better care of yourself, Why are you so loud? Its a bit much, Still hanging out with those old friends from home? Isnt it about time to up your circle?
His presence faded. He disappeared for days, sometimes weeks, leaving her in that airy flat hed rented. Harriet passed her evenings alone, listening to the ticking clock. If she tried to bring it up, hed brush her away:
You wanted all this. What more do you expect?
She made excuses: Hes got a lot on at work. Maybe hes stressed. Or, Hell come round. Im just being needy. But inside, she knew: she was simply a pretty diversionwhen the new wore off, so did his affection.
She endured it allhoping someday things would return to what they once were. But eventually, she could no longer ignore the truth: shed made a mistake. If she admitted her life was hollow, shed have to admit something elsethat shed thrown away the only person whod loved her truly, for who she was and not for what she pretended to be.
Even luxury dulled. The clothes she once adored collected dust. The jewellery stayed buried in a box. The restaurants shed once marvelled at began to irritate her. The perfume that felt like the scent of a new beginning now just sickened her.
Often, shed sit by the window, staring into the dark, thinking, But what if? Always stopping herself, fearing that question: What now?
On those silent nights, as dusk deepened and the flat echoed with silence, Harriet realised her dreams of security were shallow. What good is certainty if youve no one you want to share it with?
Her thoughts always circled back to Daniel. She remembered his handsrough but gentle, his smileprivate but real, the way he spoke about the futureno bluster, just quiet belief it would all work out. With him, shed felt safe.
***
On her third day back home, Harriet visits the park where she and Daniel used to wander. The old wooden bench under the maple tree holds too many memories: sitting together, talking nonsense, laughing till she cried. She remembers his dreamOne day Id like us to have a home of our own, with big windows so we wake up in sunlight. I want there to be light and happiness in our lives. Back then shed smiled, thinking it naïve. Now it sounds tragically out of reach.
She breathes deep, gathering herselfjust as she hears a familiar voice behind her.
Harriet?
She turns. Its Sam, Daniels old mate. He looks surprised but smiles with real warmth.
Didnt expect to see you here, he says, raising an eyebrow. How are you doing?
For a moment Harriet fumbles for words. Im alright, she finally says, managing a small, genuine smile. Visiting my mum.
Sam nods, scanning her face, not pressing for more. Instead, he gestures to a nearby bench.
Want to sit for a bit? I was just wandering about myself.
Harriet nods, and they walk over together. He chats gently about his job, the town, whats changed and what hasnt. His tone is easy and kind, helping Harriet relax, reminding her not every part of the past is lost.
After a while, Sam asks, quietly, Have you seen Daniel?
Harriets eyes fall to the dead leaves beneath her trainers. A rush of memoriesyesterdays meeting, his harsh wordsflit through her mind. She barely whispers: Yesterday, yeah.
And? Sam prompts gently.
He doesnt want to know me, she admits, every word heavy. He hates me.
Sam sighs, settling beside her, elbows on knees, watching the gold flare of autumn down the path. For a time, he says nothing. Finally, he speaks, so softly shes not sure she hears him: He took it hard, you know. You just vanished. No phone call, no note. For him it was like being stabbed in the back.
Harriet clenches her fists, feeling misery pool in her stomach. She knowsshes always knownbut hearing it from someone else is unbearable.
I know, she whispers. Its all my fault.
Sam turns, gaze gentle. He tried to move on. Dated, met a few people, but it never stuck. Said he couldnt feel the same for anyone else. He was broken, Harriet. After you showed up like you didto show offI thought hed never open up to anyone again.
Harriet nods. Somewhere, she can picture Daniel forcing himself forward, flinching every time something reminded him of her, closing one wound only for another to open.
I never meant it to be like this, she says, voice barely a breath. I thought I was doing the right thing. I just wanted something secure.
Sam says nothing, just sits quietly while the wind rustles the leaves and childrens laughter echoes from the far end of the park. Life goes on, indifferent.
She clenches her fists tighter until her nails dig in. She holds back tears, but they come anywayhazy, burning.
I dont expect him to forgive me, she says finally, voice trembling. I just wanted him to knowIm sorry. I havent stopped feeling sorry, not for one day. I remember everything, all the time, all that I wrecked.
Sam studies her, clear-eyed and calm. Maybe he doesnt need to know, he says softly but firmly. Leave him be, Harriet. Youre only making it worse. He spent ages pulling himself together after you left. He learned to cope, somehow. But you turning upits just torn it all open again. He called me last nightcompletely drunk. Havent seen him that way in years. Let him go, Harriet.
She bites her lip, saying nothing. Sam is right, and she knows it. Her sudden reappearance, her need for absolutionits only hurt him all over again
***
That night, Harriet sits by the window in her mothers flat as the town blinks with yellow streetlights and autumn leaves. The city pulses below, but she doesnt care. Memories loop through her brainscenes she cant rewind nor fast forward.
She imagines what life could have been if shed stayed. Renting a flat with Daniel, helping him set up his own business, planning the future together, finding happiness in setbacks and small victories. But the past is fixed; it will not yield, however fiercely she aches.
The next day, she packs to leave. No haste, just a heavy, inevitable calm. Her mum watches from the doorway, sadness in her eyesnot accusation, just the ache of seeing her daughter walk away again.
Take care of yourself, her mum says as Harriet stands in the hall, suitcase in hand.
Harriet kisses her, breathes in the scent of home, and steps out into the street.
At the train station, she buys a ticket to London. Two days rattling along the rails, surrounded by strangers, hoping the movement might help her work out what happens now.
The train rolls away, gently swaying. Harriet watches the landscape slip by: old flats with balcony plants, the playground where she used to gossip with friends, the bakery with its cheerful red sign. People going about their livesshopping bags in hand, umbrellas at the ready, rushing for buses. Its all familiar, painfully normal, but now feels oddly out of reach.
Somewhere back there, among those winding streets, is the man she once loved more than anything. A man who glowed when he spoke of the future, whose hands could both labour and hold her close, who never got to hear why she left or say goodbye. Hes lost to her nowwhatever she tells herself.
***
Half a year passes. Harriet lives in London, walks to work, meets friends over coffee at weekends, replies politely to questions about plans. Surface-level, nothings changed: same schedule, same streets, same conversations. But something inside is different, and it isnt going to heal. She no longer runs from her past, hides it under new jobs or empty purchases. She faces it now, honestly: she made a mistake, she hurt someone she couldnt stop loving, and her regret is real.
Shes teaching herself to get up each day and face life. She says, I did what I did. It was wrong, but it cant be undone. In that honest admission, theres no relief, but at least she can breathe againface forwards, not run.
One night, while cooking dinner, her phone buzzes. She dries her hands, picks up, and reads the message from a number she doesnt know. It says one thing:
I dont hate you. But I cant forgive you.
Harriet freezes. Her hands tighten around her phone; her heart seems to stutter. She sinks onto the kitchen floor, pressing the phone to her chest, as if somehow she could sense the other heart that just reached out.
She doesnt know what it means. Is it a beginning, or a final goodbye? But for the first time in years, she feels there is still a thread between themfragile, ready to snap with the slightest pressure, but present all the same. Somewhere out there, someone is thinking of her, someone decided to write, despite the pain. Someone hasnt closed the door completely.
Harriet smiles through tearsa small, shaky, genuine smile. Maybe this isnt the end. Maybe, one day, theyll talk againhonestly, calmly, without blame or excuses. Perhaps there are words left that could help them both move forwardtogether or separately, but with understanding.
For now, its enough to know he still thinks of her. That somewhere, beyond the glittering city, theres a man who remembers her as part of his story, not just as a mistake.
And for nowthats more than enough.
