Page 121 of Unapologetic Love Story

Heartbreak wasn’t just a topic on her podcast. It was a blow that repositioned the shape of your bones. It rewired your brain.

Raina remembered the day she’d spontaneously sat down in front of her microphone and started talking. She’d just returned from a solo trip to the cinema, something she always loved treating herself to. It was a romantic film. The pink, inviting posters had been beckoning to her as she worked in her office job. A pop of escapist colour standing out against the dreary November rain. She’d sat in the middle of the cinema, on a velvet seat, ready to disappear for two and a half hours. To fall in love.

It was a story about falling in love with a disabled person. As the projector plastered the scenes upon the screen, Raina’s heart started to beat a little irregularly. She was sensing something. That funny, familiar feeling. She knew where the story was going. Because it always went the same way.

The disabled character died. Dramatically. Tragically, with a great, deathbed speech.

So that the non-disabled character could go on to live a full life, empowered by the humbling lessons they’d been taught.

A plot point. Meant only to die.

Well, Raina wasn’t dying for anyone. She wasn’t someone’s tragic third-act twist. She wasn’t there to make anyone grateful or inspired.

People could write any article they liked. Raina was no longer afraid.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Raina ate a bowl of soup on the floor of her bedroom, tucked into a corner with a blanket over her legs. She’d been deeply embedded in neurodivergent hyper-focus, trying to lose herself in work. She’d even started calling her accountant to check on financial matters. Unfortunately, one of the downsides of fixating on tasks meant forgetting to eat. It was four in the afternoon, and both Pepper and Solana had been texting to make sure that she remembered to get something in her stomach.

She just wanted to work. To read a stack of books. To go out and adopt a dog. To watch terrible television programmes that forced her brain to disengage from the world.

A broken heart made her wish and want for the absence of feeling. She wished it could just disappear as you deleted the messages, muted the phone calls.

This felt different to before. Raina hated how much she wanted to listen to his voicemails.

Even while the pain had ripped through her, she’d heard his vehement anger at Ottie’s treatment of her. His outrage at what had occurred. He’d defended her. Tried to protect her.

She just couldn’t bear the fact that he’d possibly lit the powder.

Everyone’s battling to figure out a way to be different in this world, she thought. All I’ve ever wanted is to be just like everyone else. I killed myself trying to be just like everyone else.

She could feel tears smarting, so she stared up at the bright skylight, blinking them away.

You turn the poison people feed you into a remedy. And you take it regularly. But you never forget. So, when the man you’re falling in love with has curated all of the horrible things the world has said about you and they somehow get shouted at you during a stupid, rich-people party . . .

She checked Solana’s latest text: I spoke to Mirren (the sister). This is killing him, Raina.

Of course it’s killing him, Raina thought. That was his first run-in with ableism. But it wasn’t mine.

The next day, Raina forbade herself from wallowing.

She went for a terrifying spin class with Pepper. There was something about pushing her body through the discomfort of a dark room full of people cycling like maniacs to pop music that was therapeutic. An instructor who looked like a swimwear model stood on a podium and yelled aggressively inspiring things at them.

‘Pedal for the life you want!’

Raina hid her face from view, looking at her feet which were strapped to the bike with no mercy. She kept peddling but was also laughing. The music was too loud for her to be heard. She pushed every negative emotion into her muscles and the laughter turned to a shout.

She and Pepper lay on the cool floor of the changing room when it was over.

‘I feel mentally ready to kill somebody,’ Pepper said dazedly, ‘but physically incapable of moving.’

‘Thanks. We’ll paint that on the front window,’ the instructor said sardonically, stepping over the two of them to get to the showers.

‘I can’t feel my calves,’ Raina breathed, staring at the ceiling. ‘Is that . . . is that good?’

The two of them supported each other as they hobbled to the taxi.

‘Notting Hill, please,’ Pepper commanded.