“And you promised,” she hisses, her voice trembling now. “Remember? You promised me.”
Something shifts in Ray’s expression. The anger drains just enough for something heavier to take its place.Understanding.
He nods once. “Fine. Let’s go,” he mutters, already turning away. The woman hesitates for half a second before grabbing her bag and following him out.
The apartment falls silent the moment the door closes.
“I need to lie down,” Anika whispers.
I move quickly, guiding her back towards her room and using her harness to lower her gently onto the bed. Her lashes flutter as tears spill over, slipping down her temples into her hair.
I grab a tissue, dabbing them away carefully.
“Sorry,” she sniffles. “I don’t even know why I’m upset.”
I hesitate. “It’s been a lot,” I say softly. “And he’s pretty scary when he yells.”
She lets out a quiet, breathy laugh, shaking her head slightly. “Ray Carmichael doesn’t scare me,” she murmurs.
There’s something sad in the way she says it. Something knowing. Like she’s seen a side of him no one else has.
The evening nurse pops in to check Anika over, and once she leaves, I begin our usual routine. I don’t usually mind the evenings. They’re my favourite part of the day. It’s when we talk.
But tonight, everything feels off.
Heavy. Awkward.Ray’s words from earlier still ringing in my ears.
“I didn’t make him go out with you,” Anika says eventually, breaking the silence. I keep my focus on her legs, running the towel gently over her damp skin. “I told him he should start dating again,” she continues. “I just mentioned you were nice. Maybe I hoped he’d like you.” She exhales softly. “I just want to see him happy before . . .” She trails off.
“Anika,” I cut in gently, “you’ve got plenty of time to see Ray settle down.”
“Maybe,” she whispers. A pause stretches between us. “So, you and he . . .” she starts, and I nod before she can finish. “The date went well then,” she says, a small smile forming. I let out a short, humourless laugh and nod again. “Then why are you barely speaking now?” she asks. “Was it because of this morning? The chair?”
I shake my head quickly, turning away before she can see my face properly. The tears come out of nowhere. I busy myself with the water, emptying and refilling the bowl just to give myself a second to breathe.
When I return, I take a steadying breath.
“I’ve only ever had one boyfriend,” I say quietly. “Josh.” The name alone makes my chest tighten. “I loved him. A lot.” My voice wavers, but I push through it. “He didn’t choose to leave me,” I add, my throat tightening. “He was taken.”
The words feel too heavy for the room. “Last night was the first time since him,” I admit, barely above a whisper. “The first time I’ve been with anyone else.” I swallow hard. “Ray was the first.”
Anika’s eyes widen, the weight of it hitting her. “Oh shit,” she breathes. “Josh . . . died?”
I nod, swallowing hard against the tears burning at the back of my throat. “Yes. He was hit by a drunk driver about eighteen months ago.”
Anika’s face softens instantly. “Oh my god, Wynter, I’m so sorry.”
I shake my head lightly. “It’s not your fault,” I say, because I’ve never understood why people apologise for things they had no control over. I focus on the cloth in my hands, needing something to ground me.
“That night . . .” I begin quietly. “The night he died, I was mad at him.” My voice wavers, but I push through it. “He’d gone out drinking with his friends. He was supposed to come back to mine, but . . .” I swallow. “I was still grieving for my mum. I wasn’t coping. I needed him there and,” I let out a shaky breath, “I didn’t really care what he needed.”
The guilt still sits heavy. “We argued,” I continue. “He said he needed a break from me, from the crying.” My chest tightens. “And I let him go.” I blink quickly, but the tears fall anyway. “That was the last time I saw him.”
An awkward silence settles between us.
“If I could move,” Anika whispers softly, “I’d hug you right now.”
A small, broken smile pulls at my lips. “I’d take it,” I say, my voice barely there. I take a breath, steadying myself. “That’s whyI came to London,” I admit. “Home felt suffocating. Everywhere I went, there was something that reminded me of him, of my mum.” I shake my head slightly. “I couldn’t breathe there anymore.” I glance at her. “I tried to stay. For my dad. For Aunt Lucy. But I couldn’t. Then the job came up here and,” I shrug weakly, “I took it. I guess I ran.”