Luka & Izzy

Nineteen: At one point I realise you're not coming back

It's Friday.

I wake up with a headache.

Confusion in my head.

It's a replay of what happened in court yesterday. Everything that was said, done and taken away from me.

I want to be angry at Noah, but I can't.

I want to scream that it is not fair that he is selling the flat. At the same time, I know he owes me nothing.

I have a car and I feel pretty bad about it.

He owes me nothing.

Especially not material things.

I feel for my necklace. I don't know if I was dreaming or if it was real. When I touch it, I know it's real.

Everything that has happened is real.

I get up and slowly get ready for work. In twenty-nine days it will be the last day I do this.

One thing I do know, though, is that I could never live in this apartment with someone I love.

This flat belonged to Noah. And it was our place for as long as we were together.

So many memories, both sweet and bitter.

I finish tidying up and slowly close the door, looking around. It is just as I remembered it when I first came to London.

I sigh.

But I feel better. I feel better today with all these memories. If someone had asked me a few months ago, I would have denied that I would ever be better. But I am.

With all the help, I am much better today. Day by day, says Tina. Every day you have to go through such a trauma, such an experience.

I go to work.

The morning was chaotic. Anna is holding on again. But I don't go in. I knew it was a lot of stress and change for her. In the morning, I notice that her eyes are red, and at the end of her shift they are even redder, as if she is secretly crying somewhere. I just stand by her side.

I don't want to be too intrusive. I know some people don't like being bumped into, I don't.

When the job is done, I breathe a sigh of relief.

Sometimes it's really hard to wait until the shift is over. It's not that I don't like going, sometimes some people have the power to suck all your energy, some people call you a hundred times and they're nice, but they act like they're in a hotel.

"Nurse, pour me some tea. "But his and her legs are fully functional, while he leaves the ward a million times for a cigarette in the park.

Pain is also relative. "Nurse, I am in pain. "Well, I'll go and get something for the pain that he's been prescribed.

And when I bring it back, he's already asleep, like a top.

He snores.

I put the medicine on the bedside table.

That's how it is.

Different people have different problems.

And there are the ones who are really bad, but they do it all by themselves, but they drag it out, they fool around, but they don't say anything and they don't ask for help.

And then there are the moments of genuine connection and gratitude that make it all worthwhile.

A simple "thank you" or a smile from a patient who genuinely appreciates your care can brighten the most difficult of days.