I will never forget that day. Not because he was unique. But because he broke something in me once and for all. < img src = "https://zycie.news/crrops/999c01/620x0/1/0/2025/04/24/1knufwkmmdd6s2r4jsq9poovwx4o38wdliulxb86.jpg" alt = "ambulance @pexels" styles = "background-color: rgba (26,35,30,1)" > < p > I returned with an ambulance from the call. Ordinary intervention & ndash; The old lady fainted at the well, nothing I have seen hundreds of times. I was tired, welded, I just waited for us to leave this forest episode and & oacute; at home. To her husband. To children.

< p > and then I saw him.

< p > they walked on the side of the road, uncommon. He and she. She was holding his shoulder, laughed. And he & Hellip; He looked at her as he hadn't looked at me for a long time. And in that second something broke in me. Because it wasn't a coincidence. She wasn't a colleague from work. It was a lover.

< p > and I ? I was supposed to be at all with my mother & ndash; in the village, a few kilometer & oacute; further. He thought so. He planned it that way. He had a free afternoon. And apparently … he no longer had a remorse & in conscience.

< p > I made my breath away. My hands trembled. A colleague from the crew something m & oacute; but I have not heard anymore. I only looked at him & ndash; I trusted the one who trusted the Oacute; From KT & oacute; I shared my life, bills, & oacute; Żko and breakfast.

< p > I reached for the phone. I did not think.

< p > & ndash; Halo ? & ndash; His voice spoke, as always calm.

< p > & ndash; Michał … & ndash; I said softly. & ndash; And you like the walk ?

< p > fell silent. In the background I heard a woman next to him something m & oacute; wi. Quick. Nervously. < br /> and then he hung up. < /p > < p > I didn't cry. Not then. I only sat, squeezing the phone so hard that my hand hurt.

< p > because sometimes you do not need a gloves, evidence & oacute; in or explanations. One look through the window & Hellip; and everything that was ceased to exist.

< p > I don't know what to do next. But I know one thing: < br /> will never pass through any way next to me, as if nothing happened. < /P >

Natasha Kumar

By Natasha Kumar

Natasha Kumar has been a reporter on the news desk since 2018. Before that she wrote about young adolescence and family dynamics for Styles and was the legal affairs correspondent for the Metro desk. Before joining The Times Hub, Natasha Kumar worked as a staff writer at the Village Voice and a freelancer for Newsday, The Wall Street Journal, GQ and Mirabella. To get in touch, contact me through my natasha@thetimeshub.in 1-800-268-7116