Page 155 of A Smile in a Whisper

His eyes widened.

“I had to slowly reintroduce food, do breathing exercises, physio. And I went through this weird mourning period, grieving everything I’d lost, things like my place at uni, my social life—talking regularly to you.” Sniffing, she paused. “You didn’t always answer my texts. I thought I’d done something wrong.”

“No, never. It was me—all me.”

“But I didn’t know that. I’d message anyway, not knowing where to begin, if I was saying the right things. And when you did reply, you seemed…distant.”

“So much was happening, but it felt like I had nothing to share,” said Nick.

Evie nodded. “Except ‘I miss you, I love you’ over and over, but sometimes even that felt strained. I started to think my Crohn’s was spooking you.”

He leaned forward. “No, honestly, it didn’t. Hearing how you were doing was inspiring—even if I didn’t know the whole story.”

Guilt panged in her chest.

“You were so strong and resilient, Evie. The opposite of me, really.”

“Nick…”

“No, it was.” He slouched. “I fell completely apart on tour. I had to drop out for health reasons six months in.”

Evie’s heart plummeted. “Really?”

He ducked his chin. “So, you see, Sam wasn’t too far off about me. I failed. I fucked up my dream job.”

“You didn’t fail, Nick. You weren’t well. That’s hardly your fault.”

“But it felt like it. I kept hearing my mother’s voice in my head—‘Grow up, get over it, get back to work.’”

Hateful woman. Evie curled her lip. “Well, she was wrong.”

“Two months later, I parted ways with my agent and…waited for you to dump me, too. I was such a shit boyfriend, not responding, hiding the truth, so when you didn’t…”

“You ghosted me.”

He looked up with tears in his eyes. “I didn’t end us because I fell out of love with you. I did it because you didn’t need a loser like me dragging you down or making you sick again. I knew if I broke up with you properly over the phone you’d cry and fight me on it. I couldn’t handle that.” He fidgeted with his watch. “I took the fucking coward’s way out…”

So it wasn’t about me or my Crohn’s…well, at least not how I thought it was.

Evie stared across the room. “I held on. I thought you might call or appear at my door, apologize. If you had, we could’ve worked things through, could’ve gone back to the way things were. But I waited and you didn’t call, you didn’t come back…”

“So you texted me.” Nick pulled his phone from his jacket. He tapped and scrolled and held up the screen.

Swallowing hard, she read the message:

Evie:

I thought you were my forever. I was wrong.

Her breathing slowed as she ached for her younger self. Mere days before her nineteenth birthday, riding out the side effects of her new, post-operative treatment, Evie had hit send on that final message while sobbing inconsolably into her stuffed otters, her once hopeful heart torn at the seams. “I changed my number after that.” She sniffed as Nick lowered his phone. “And deleted yours.”

“I know saying sorry doesn’t feel like enough, but I am Evie, I’m so sorry,” he pleaded. “For leaving you, for hurting you so badly. For everything.”

“You made me feel seen and beautiful, and not like some freak with a nasty disease.” She picked at her nails. “I thought you were the one person who would never hurt me. And then you did.”

He nodded dolefully. “It’s my biggest regret.”

Evie glanced away.