Page 33 of Unapologetic Love Story

‘Yeah, you’re more than fine. You’re successful, you’re great, you’re stunning. Because he’s gone. Delete.’

Anyone who heard Pepper speak about Matt might believe that he’d been the most conniving and cruel boyfriend to have ever been with a woman, but Raina would disagree. He’d just been a greedy fool. Someone who’d stolen love, and instead of taking care of it, instead of honouring it, he’d used it as a ladder to find what he thought would be even better.

Raina’s love for him had never been a stepping stone to something better. Such a thing had never occurred to her.

He’d messaged other women. He’d stayed out late without ever letting her know if he was safe or not. He’d smothered her whenever she wanted to be independent and pushed her away when she tried to show up for him. He’d depended on her for mental health support and financial security. His friends had treated her appallingly and he would never say a word.

After a few years, Raina had no longer recognized herself.

There had never been violence. Never a truly vicious word said. The relationship had ended, like so many others, because one half of the pair gave up and allowed the other person’s love and commitment to become a manacle around their ankle.

Raina only wished, at the end of it all, that he’d been truthful. Whenever she’d offered to unlock that figurative chain, he’d told her she was imagining their problems.

Then one day, the evidence had just been too overwhelming. She deleted the text but didn’t block. She slipped her phone away and gave Pepper a look that said, please don’t give me shit for this right now.

‘We’re not inviting him to your birthday,’ Pepper said sternly.

‘I am inviting him,’ Raina reproached quietly. ‘He won’t come. But I’m going to be the bigger person.’

‘Bigger person. An arsonist would be a bigger person than Matt Fletcher. All that man ever gave you was red flags. He never deserved you,’ Pepper murmured, unable to help herself.

Hard to see red flags through a romantic, rose-tinted lens.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Raina got to her usual spot on Poplar High Street in East London and let herself bask for a moment. She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the block. Faint singing from one of the nearby kitchens. Birdsong. Chatter from a group of teenagers on bikes, far up the road and outside of the corner shop. Children playing football in a fenced-off AstroTurf down by the DLR station.

Though it was early on Sunday morning, with the real heat of the April sun promised but not yet fully delivered, Raina could smell all kinds of wonderful aromas. Meals cooked with spices that lingered in the neighbourhood air and made her stomach growl. And snacks for the marathon runners, most of whom would arrive in a rush, around lunchtime. The water stations weren’t even set up yet, but Raina was exactly on time for what she wanted to do.

The marathon was the best day of the year for Raina. The day she always felt like a real Londoner, a small carved-out piece of the constantly evolving bustle. This was her old neighbourhood, and the marathon brought everyone out. Not Christmas, or New Year’s Day, not Eid or bank holidays. The London marathon was the day where every single neighbour, no matter who they were, came outside to celebrate.

The Benning family would bring out their deckchairs, even if it was raining. Old John would show up on his mobility scooter with a freshly crocheted jumper and matching flag. Priya brought out so many trays of food, which no runner could stop to eat, but everyone watching on the street would come rushing over to partake of. Shivani and her current cohort of music students would play for people as they raced by.

The high street was mile twenty, which was exactly where most people hit their major wall. After running almost four fifths of the race, their legs were breaking, their heads were aching and the need to walk or just stop altogether was strong. No one looked particularly encouraged when arriving at mile twenty, which was why Raina loved being there. She’d watched from Greenwich once and the atmosphere was brilliant, but not the same.

Mile twenty was when the runners needed their cheerleaders the most. They needed to be reminded that the last six miles were possible, that they were worth it, and that people believed they could do it. They needed to remember that the finish line was closer than the starting gate, and that the end was in sight.

Raina was smiling just thinking about it. However, the street was relatively empty just now. Most people wouldn’t start arriving until noon, or a little before. As far as they were concerned, that’s when the marathon really came by. That’s when the charity runners in their costumes and name badges would limp along, smiling reluctantly while being lambasted with vigorous encouragement.

Raina came early for one particular reason.

When a blur of movement caught her eye, she turned to see Tom Branimir walking towards her, having just left the pathway to the DLR station. He was carrying a reusable coffee cup and wearing dark glasses. Raina smirked. Perhaps it was a little too early on a Sunday morning for the shark.

‘Fun won’t get here for hours,’ he called.

Raina resented how good he looked. The sleeves of his loose white shirt were rolled up and he had annoyingly sexy forearms. ‘Not true, we’re just in time.’

They stood side by side, Raina blowing raspberry bubblegum and Tom sipping his coffee.

‘Does your sister really work at Liberty?’

‘Mirren,’ he said, while stealing a sideways glance at her. ‘Yes. In accessories. I wasn’t stalking you, Raina.’

She loved the sound of his voice saying her name. She loved that he was always stealing glances at her.

‘Pepper thinks otherwise.’

‘And what do you think, Raina?’