I never hated you
Yet nothing has changed
Violet fiddled nervously with the edge of her sleeve, gazing out the taxis window. Familiar streets flitted bythose same streets where, as a child, shed dashed alongside Rupert, laughing and dreaming of a future that seemed then so certain. Seven years. It had been a full seven years since shed last returned home.
Were here, the driver announced softly, pulling her from her drifting thoughts.
The taxi glided to a halt in front of the entryway to the old block of flats where her mother still lived. Violet made sure her telephone was in her purse, pulled out some notespounds, thin and faded now with the yearsand paid the fare before stepping onto the pavement. For a moment, she just stood there, drawing a long breath of her hometowns air. It was different here from the great, wild bustle of London, where she now resided. Every scent, every distant noise here touched something deep inside herfreshly-mown grass from the nearby green, the warm aroma of bread drifting from the little bakery on the corner, and that inexplicable something you could only call home. Her heart tightened with the bittersweet pain of itshe was glad, and frightened, all at once.
Her stay would be brief. On paper, she was here simply to visit her mother, help untangle some paperwork that had been waiting years for her attention. But she also yearned to walk these old streets and see if anything truly had changed, or if her memories were true after all. And, deep down, there lay another motiveperhaps the truest of all. She desperately wanted to see Rupert again. And who could say, perhaps her entire life might yet turn on such a moment?
She knew he lived nearby. Not that shed stalked himnot at all. But friends, meeting her by chance or sending quick messages now and then, would mention his name. Thats how shed learned hed changed jobs, landed a very fine position, bought a flat, moved his mother in and always when she heard of him, for a fleeting moment she pictured him as he might be nowwhat did he look like, what did he think about? But shed shoo the thought away, never daring to let it settle in her heart
***************
The next morning, Violet set out toward the city centre. There was no grand planshe simply longed to breathe familiar air, watch the city unfold in the daylight, rediscover its tempo, once woven into her very bones. She wandered without hurry, peering in shop windows, smiling softly at the fragments of forgotten days: here was the newsstand where shed once bought comics; there, the bench she and her friends had claimed after school; the little café where shed tried her first cappuccino, nearly spilling it in her excitement on a brand-new blouse.
And then she saw him.
Rupert was making his way along the opposite side of the street. He hadnt noticed herhis head bent slightly in thought, his gaze fixed ahead. Violet halted, her heart leaping so wildly that she forgot to breathe. He looked much the same: still tall, still walking in that relaxed, easy stride shed adored in their youth. The same familiar silhouette, the same movements, even his hair seemed unchanged.
Without thinking, she darted across the road. The light flicked to amber, a car horn blared from somewhere, but she barely heard. Her legs carried her forward, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain the whole street could hear it.
Rupert! she called as she reached him near the shop.
Her voice trembledshe hadnt imagined nerves like this. He turned, and nothing. No sign of happiness or anger. Nothing at all.
Violet? he said quietly, almost indifferently.
His tone, flat and emotionless, struck her far harder than shed expected. All that had been locked inside for seven years rushed out in a torrent. Tears brimmed in her eyes; her voice shook, unstoppable.
Rupert, I Im so sorry, she managed, her words tangled and raw. I know Ive no right to even speak to you, but I her shoulders shook as she fought for composure, but tears spilled down her cheeks, and she made no move to stop them. I still love you. I always have. Forgive me. Please, forgive me
The phrases spilled out, muddled and quickexcuses, explanations, pleas all jumbled, but in the end only the truest words emerged, those shed buried for years. She flung her arms around him, pressing close, wishing her embrace might somehow restore all that was lost. Nothing else existed nownot the busy street or the passers-by or time itselfjust his warmth and her wild hope he might accept her touch.
Rupert did not pull away immediately. For a heartbeat, she thought he might softenhis shoulders relaxed, his arms twitched as if to return her embrace. That small gesture set off a flare of hope inside her: perhaps, perhaps something might still be mended; perhaps their story wasnt quite over.
But the moment vanished. Rupert gripped her shoulders, gentle but determined, and stepped away. His face remained composed, nearly expressionless; his gaze was firm now, almost cold. The boy shed once known so well, whod made her laugh till she cried and dreamt her dreams with her, was gonehere stood a grown man who long ago walled up his heart.
Go, he whispered in her ear.
He spoke quietly, dispassionately, as if she meant nothing at all.
I hate you, he added after a moment, and this time she saw the naked contempt in his eyes.
He turned and walked away. Violet stood there, stunned. The world bustled around her: people hurrying about, traffic roaring at the junction, childrens shouts from somewhere further along A few passers-by eyed her askance, curious why a girl stood motionless in the middle of the pavement, face pale, expression locked. She noticed nothing.
Just the sound of his footsteps growing faint behind her, and her own ragged breathing. Each second stretched impossibly long, and all she could think was: This is the end. Forever.
She made her way home, her legs almost unsteady, every step more difficult than the last. Her mind was blankno thoughts, no feelings, only the echo of his words, pounding inside her.
When Violet entered her mothers flat, she didnt try to explainjust made her way silently to a chair and stared out the window. Her mother, seeing her tear-streaked face and lost eyes, didnt press her. She only sighed, as if shed been expecting this day, and set water to boil for tea. The familiar clatter from the kitchen, the comforting scent of black tea felt so commonplace, so at odds with the turmoil in Violets soul. Yet that ordinariness, that quiet routine, slowly anchored her.
He hasnt forgiven me, Violet whispered, clutching the teacup. The warm steam brushed her cheek, but she barely noticed. Her fingers tightened, as though trying to cling to something slipping away; her gaze fixed on the amber liquid, where the lamps reflections shimmered.
Her mother sat beside her, offering a kind touch to her shoulder. The gesture was gentle, familiar; such comfort shed offered in Violets childhood after a grazed knee or a row at school. That touch made Violet feel little againvulnerable, as if all her grown-up choices and pride had simply melted away.
You knew it might be so, her mother said softly, not with reproach but sober acceptance.
I did, Violet agreed, finally pulling her eyes from her tea. Her voice was steady but weary, as though shed rehearsed this scene in her mind a thousand times. But I hoped. Foolish, wasnt it?
Not foolish, her mother replied quietly. You chose your road. You hurt Rupert deeply. He couldnt move on for a long while, you know Hes like Kay in that old fairy taleonce the shard is there, nothing warms the heart.
Violet leaned back, sighing deeply, and the memories from seven years ago welled up unbidden.
Back then, everything seemed simple, obvious. She was just twenty-two, that age when the future gleams, all hurdles surmountable. Rupert, always kind and steady, was the one person she could trust with her life. He lacked flowery words, but his actions spokehe was always there, always listening, always reliable.
But there was one thingone problem, as Violet saw it then. Rupert laboured on building sites, studied in the evenings, dreamed of his own business. His plans were genuine, well-considered, but required patienceshe did not want to wait.
It wasnt riches she sought, but stability. She wanted to know that in a year, two, five, shed have work and a home, life unfolding on her own terms. Yet life with Rupert felt too uncertain: endless temp jobs, evening lectures, dreams still far from reality.
So when her uncle from London offered her a role in his firm, she accepted. She barely hesitated. Here was a real chance, one she couldnt afford to miss.
There was another truthone Violet tried not to remember. At that very time, as she settled into her new life, she met Ian. He was a successful businessman, twice her age, always confident, used to getting his way. Their paths crossed by chance at a company do, where, in her new dress, Violet felt a little out of place among the older staff. Ian immediately singled her out: joined her, chatted, asked about her work, her dreams, her life.
He showered her with attention. At first, small bouquets at the office with a note: For the loveliest. Then came posh dinners she once only peered at through windows, marvelling at the décor. He took her to galleries, to the theatre, gave her delicate scarves, jewellery, shoes with slender heels. Each gift came with wordshow she deserved more out of life, how she shouldnt limit her dreams, how fate offers and one must learn to accept.
Violet resistedshe was uneasy, declined, tried to explain she didnt need such gestures. But Ian was persuasive; it was all, he said, simple kindness, sincere admiration. Gradually, she yielded. The glamour began to draw her inevenings in softly-lit restaurants, rides in cabs, the option to buy what she fancied without glancing at price tags. It all felt like a fairy-tale she never wished to awake from.
Somewhere among these shining moments, she started to date Iannot out of passion, but because his world seemed so uncomplicated, so secure. With him, there was no worry about money for rent or buying a new suit for a vital meeting; he smoothed every path, surrounded her with ease.
And she liked that life so much, she forgot all about a boy who loved her faithfully. More than thatshe began to look down on him, declaring that Rupert would never amount to anything.
At last, Violet returned to her hometown. She did not do so to see Rupertno, she wanted to show off her new life, prove to him shed been right all along. Part of her, deep inside, burned at the thoughtlet him see what she had achieved, what she truly deserved.
She prepared her visit with care. Chose a café on the high streetthe very one Rupert sometimes visited for coffee after work. She wore her expensive birthday dressa gift from Ianelegant, slim-belted, flattering. The ring on her finger gleamedanother gift. Her handbag was that seasons must-have, acquired on a whim in the city.
When Rupert came in, she saw him at once, and ensured he saw her. She threw her head back, laughing too loudly at something her companion had said, deliberately catching Ruperts eye. Their gazes locked. In his she read confusion, pain, and hurtall the things shed worked to forget. But instead of embarrassment, she looked right back, unflinching.
In that moment, she thought shed won. Shed provento herself and to himthat her choice had been right. Now, her life was full of real opportunities, not endless talks of someday. She convinced herself she was satisfied, that shed got exactly what she deserved.
But as Rupert walked out, as she sat alone at the table, her laughter died away. She looked again at her ring, at her bag, at her companion, still talking, and felt a terrible emptiness. All these thingsluxury, gestures, attentionsuddenly seemed distant and meaningless. She smiled and conversed, but inside, a quiet question echoed: Was it worth it?
********************
Victory tasted bitterViolet only realised that over time. At first, Ian remained the attentive, generous man hed been: flowers, dinners, compliments. But gradually, his interest waneda candle burning out at the end.
It started subtly. Instead of kind words, dry remarks. Instead of gifts, brief texts: Pick yourself something from the shop. Criticisms began to replace flattery: Shouldnt you take better care of yourself? You laugh too loudlyvery provincial. Seeing those old friends again? Wouldnt you rather meet someone more refined?
He became a ghost in her days, gone for stretches with only the empty flat for company. Violet spent evenings alone, the ticking clock loud in the stillness. If she tried to explain her longing, he waved her off:
You have what you wanted, havent you? Isnt that enough?
She made excuses. His work is stressful. He just needs some time. She told herself it would all come right, that perhaps she was expecting too much. But deep down, she knewshe was just another trinket, bright and fresh for a time, then forgotten.
She bore it allhis sharp words, cold silences, absences. She endured, rather than admit the truth: shed chosen wrong. To own it meant admitting, too, that shed betrayed the only one whod ever loved her wholly. Rupert, with his rough hands and earnest dreams, treasured her simply for being Violet, not for meeting someones standard.
Over time, even luxury lost its lustre. Dresses hung unworn. Jewels sat untouched in their box. Restaurants, once a delight, became burdensome. Even her perfume, once the very scent of success, now turned her stomach.
She found herself, day after day, staring from the window, wondering What if and shying from an answer that she knew might unravel her.
Those lonely evenings, as twilight deepened, she realised with sharp clarity how empty her idea of security was when it wasnt shared. It all made sense only with the right person at her side.
Her mind wandered often to Rupert. She remembered his handsstrong and worn from labour, yet gentle when they wrapped around hers. She recalled his quiet smile, his unshowy happiness. She remembered how he spoke of the future, not with showy promises but honest hopes, faith that things would turn out right. His faith had always been real, and, with him, shed never been afraid
***************************
On her third day at home, Violet wandered the old park. That same old bench beneath a spreading sycamore: theyd spent countless hours here, talking and laughing. She remembered Rupert, gazing at the falling leaves, saying, You know, Id like a house of our own one day. With big windows, so the sunlight pours in every morning. A real homefull of light, full of happiness. Back then, shed just smiled at his silly dreams. But now those words felt full of loss.
She paused, gathering herself, when a familiar voice called:
Violet?
She turned. It was Arthurhers and Ruperts old friend. He looked surprised, then smiled warmly.
Didnt expect to see you here, he said. How are you?
Violet hesitated, searching for a reply. She tried to sound casual, but her voice wavered all the same.
Im all right. Just here to visit Mum.
Arthur nodded, quietly assessing, but asked nothing further. Instead, he gestured to a nearby bench.
Shall we sit a bit? I was only out for a stroll.
She agreed, and they ambled over. Arthur talked about his life, what was new in town. His friendly manner soothed her; she responded here and there, lost at times in thoughts of childhoodhow strange it was, being here again, bumping into faces from another life.
Arthur quieted, paused, then asked, gently:
Have you seen Rupert?
Violets eyes dropped to the fallen leaves. She was slow to answer, remembering yesterdays encounterhis cold stare, those final words that wounded. Finally, she murmured,
Yes. Yesterday.
How was it? Arthurs eyes were careful, kind.
He wants nothing more to do with me. He hates me, she forced out, her voice dull with the weight of it.
Arthur sighed, sat with her, gazing ahead to the golden autumn mist. For several moments he was silent, then quietly said,
He really struggled. You disappeared, Violet. No call, no letter. For him it was like a knife.
Violet clenched her hands, stung anew. Shed known it, but to hear it was worse than shed imagined.
I know, she whispered. It was all my fault.
Arthur didnt scold, didnt lecture. He went on,
He tried to move on. Dated a bit, but it never took. Said he could love no one as hed loved you. After your grand entrance that last time Arthur shook his head, I thought hed lock himself away entirely.
Violet nodded mutely. She pictured Rupert forcing normality, flinching at any memory, and her guilt was sharper not because hed suffered, but because she was the cause.
I never expected this, really I thought I was making the right choice. I thought I wanted security.
Arthur didnt contradict her. He just sat, offering time and quiet as the park around them carried on, gold leaves spinning, the chuckles of children from afar, life unfolding regardless.
Violet dug her fingernails into her palms, gripping tight. She fought the tears, but they came anyway, blurring everything. The hardest truth settled on hershe couldnt fix anything; she couldnt go back; she couldnt erase what shed done.
I dont want his forgiveness, she managed, voice thin, nearly breaking. I just wanted him to knowIm sorry. I am sorry, every day. I cant let go. The past, the ruinI did that. I carry it with me.
Arthur studied her, kindly, and said at length,
Maybe he doesnt need to know thatnot anymore. Leave him be now, Violet. Youve done enough. He took a long time to patch himself up after your leaving. And your return Arthur sighed, Its churned everything back up. Yesterday he rang medrunk as Ive heard him in years. Please, dont come again. Dont ruin him.
Violet bit her lip but was silent. She knew Arthur was righther sudden return, her desperate attempt to meet Rupert, had only torn open old wounds. Shed wanted forgiveness, but perhaps, in seeking it, had only done more harm
***************************
That evening, Violet sat by the window of her mothers flat. Lights blinked on across the cityyellow, orange, whitedancing till they seemed almost to celebrate. But she had no interest in beauty just then. Her mind reeledmemories, old regrets, scenes playing on loop like a film she could not pause.
She thought of what might have been, if only shed stayed. How theyd have shared their first rented place, how Rupert would have built up his small business, how theyd have dreamt and planned, laughed at troubles, taken joy from small victories. She thought of all the happy moments lost, words left unsaid, touches undone. But there was no undoing itthis she knew now more than ever.
The next day, Violet packed to leave. She moved slowly, as if by prolonging the task, she might postpone the goodbye. Her mother watched from the doorway, sadness in her eyesnot anger, just quiet sorrow as her daughter went away once more.
Take care, said her mother as Violet, suitcase in hand, paused in the hall.
Violet kissed her cheek, lingered for just a moment, breathing in the scent of home, before heading out to the street.
At the station, she bought a ticket for London, hoping the long journey would help her think things through. Two days in the train, surrounded by strangersit might clear her head.
As the train began its careful glide from the platform, Violet stared from the window. The landmarks of her youth slipped by: blocks of flats with flower-boxes at the windows, the old playground, the bright little bakery. People bustled past: a woman with shopping, a man with an umbrella despite the clear sky, a child running for a bus. So ordinary, so familiarbut it all seemed forever beyond her now.
Somewhere in that city behind her was a man she loved more than anything. The man whod looked at her with hope for the future, whose hands built and cradled with equal skill, whom shed never given the time to explain, never said goodbye. Now he was lost to her forevershe was sure, though a sliver of hope tried to remain
***************************
Half a year went by. Violet lived on in London, commuting to work, catching up with friends over coffee at weekends, giving the usual replies to How are things? Outwardly, nothing had changedshe kept the same routines, saw the same faces. But within, something had shifted. No longer did she run from her failures, hiding behind new acquaintances or shopping or busy days; she faced her past now, owned her mistake, accepted the hurt shed caused and her honest regret.
Shed learned to wake up telling herself, Whats done is done. It was wrong, but I cant change it. In that acceptance, there was no joy, but a kind of releasea relief, a chance to breathe and look ahead again.
One evening, as Violet prepared supper, her phones gentle chime announced a message. She wiped her hands, glanced at the unfamiliar number. Just one line on the screen: I never hated you. But I cannot forgive.
Violet froze. Her hand closed around the phone, her heart skipped a beat before pounding wildly. She slid down to the kitchen floor, clutching that small rectangle as if it might allow the senders heartbeat to reach hersomeone who, despite everything, had decided to write.
What did it mean? Was it a beginning, or a final ending? She couldnt be sure. But for the first time in so long, she felt the faintest thread stretch between them. Fragile, quivering, liable to break at the lightest touch, yetthere was a connection. Someone, somewhere, still thought of her. Someone had left the door not quite shut.
Violet smiled through her tearsa weak, hesitant smile, but real all the same. Perhaps it wasnt the end. Perhaps, someday, theyd speak againcalmly, without blaming one another, able at last to tell the truth. Perhaps theyd find words that would help them both move forwardtogether, or apart, at least with understanding.
For nowthat was enough. For now, it was enough just to know that, somewhere, she still lived in anothers memories, not merely as a mistake, but as part of a shared story.
And, for now, that was enough.
