Page 53 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Katla

I hear the front door slam and a car’s engine roar, the squeal of tyres as he leaves, and then there’s nothing but silence.

The silence of absence.

I can’t believe I lost him so quickly. I can’t believe that the one truth I thought would save things actually drove him away. It hurts. I feel winded. It’s as if he’s reached inside my chest and torn my heart from my body.

I should have stopped him. I should have stood in his way in the doorway and not let him leave, but he took me by surprise. And I was still struggling to understand what he was saying even as he disappeared.

I don’t care. That’s what he said. I told him I loved him and he said that he didn’t care.

But he does care, surely? I could see the pain in his eyes…or maybe I didn’t see it. Maybe it’s true that he doesn’t care. Maybe I’ve been reading him wrong all this time, telling myself things that aren’t true.

Believing my own lies…

Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything to him, shouldn’t have made myself so vulnerable, but when I saw him standing in the kitchen shirtless, the morning light lying over his velvety olive skin, for the first time in my life I wasn’t afraid of the emotion inside me.

I wanted to give it to him, share it with him, because it was a good thing.

A true thing.

Last night he held me in his arms and we talked. He told me about his life, and when he looked at me I felt precious and treasured. I wanted to tell him I loved him then, but I didn’t have the courage, not until this morning.

Did you really think he would love you back, though? Did you really think he would care?

He said he didn’t want to hurt me, that’s why he wanted to break this off so soon, yet he did end up hurting me.

Or maybe I am the one who’s ended up hurting myself, because yes—I did think that I mattered to him. I did think that he cared about me in some way…

My throat is thick and my eyes prickle with tears. I haven’t cried for years but I can feel the tears sliding down my face now.

I had no idea how much this would hurt. Why did I think anything more was possible between us when I am who I am? Why did I think that baring my heart would make a difference? And why did I think passion would be enough?

But I have nothing else to offer him. I’m only a woman who doesn’t fit anywhere, who has a trail of broken relationships behind her, who finds it difficult to make friends and now who has nothing and no one.

Not even him. I could go after him, I think, but then my pride kicks in.

And, no, I’m not going to do that. If he doesn’t want me, then I’m not going after him to beg.

I’ve got more dignity than that and a lot more strength.

I walked away from my mother, I walked away from John and I’ll walk away from Ulysses too.

I’ll shove him in the past, back where he belongs.

Wiping my eyes, I turn and go upstairs to find Olympia’s room. Ulysses told me there were clothes of hers there that she wouldn’t mind if I borrowed, so I look through her wardrobe. I can’t bear to wear anything more of Ulysses’s.

I find a dress that fits and I put it on, along with some borrowed underwear, and just as I finish dressing there is a knock on the front door.

My heartbeat shifts, picking up speed. It’s him, surely? Perhaps he’s changed his mind, perhaps he’s come back after all.

I fly downstairs and pull open the door, my heartbeat hammering. But it’s not him. It’s a man in a uniform and he says, ‘I’m here to take you the airport, ma’am. Whenever you’re ready.’

There’s nothing here for me, I realise. Nothing here for me now he’s gone.

‘I’m ready now,’ I tell him.

As the car leaves, I don’t look back.