Carved in Her Bones

Then -Tomas(peter) Part 33

I woke up to the dreary London weather—rainy, cloudy, and all-around depressing. Pia was still asleep, and I was determined not to wake her; she'd only slow me down. I had about three hours to train before work, and I wanted to make the most of it. Pia insisted on running with me almost every morning, always trying to do things together. It was sweet, but to be fair, it could be a little annoying.Lacing up my trainers, I gave my mom a quick call."Tomas—so early, no?""Just checking in, Mama.""How's the internship? Have you been having fun too?" She asked it every morning, like fun was the main purpose of life.Adjusting my watch and putting on my earphones, I started off at my usual 5k pace. London at 5 a.m. was peaceful, with early-morning traffic made up mostly of service workers. I liked London best at this hour.Running along the canal, I thought about Pia. She was nice, funny, and kind—not to mention ridiculously attractive. But spending time with her could feel like a chore. It wasn't that she wasn't interesting; she was well-traveled, well-read, and probably smarter than me in some ways. I just wasn't excited about seeing her outside of bed.She had a habit of lingering at my place, and I often found myself coming up with excuses for why I wouldn't be home. She also kept picking up my hobbies and randomly showing up at places I'd mentioned I'd be.The rain started falling harder, and I slowed to a 10k pace. I loved these early moments—alone in a big city, pushing my body. I'd been training so intensely for the London marathon, I was constantly tired, even a little out of breath lately. But I kept going, running at a conversational pace, the rain nearly blinding now but feeling refreshing.I ducked into a nearby shop for a quick doughnut, then made my way home. Pia was still asleep, which was nice; no questions or talks about feelings. I knew I should probably end things, but somehow, I didn't have it in me. A part of me figured I'd just let it run its course and break it off when I moved back to Kraków.In the shower, I felt more sore than usual. Damian had convinced me to sign up for the marathon one drunken night, and somehow, we'd actually stuck with it. Which was odd, considering Damian wasn't exactly one for long-term commitments.Pia was standing in the bathroom doorway, watching me in that way that felt a little invasive. I wasn't shy, but she often said strange things when she looked at me like that, which threw me off. She took off her pajamas, ready to join me, a familiar smile hinting at her intentions. I wrapped a towel around myself and kissed her forehead as I headed to the closet.On the way to work, she asked if everything was okay. I nodded, explaining that I just wasn't in the mood for sex. She frowned, and I hated making her sad. We walked into the office together and went about our day.

Around lunch time, i was feeling more tired than usual and had to turn Pia's invite down for lunch. I wokrd through lunch. The simulations wre pretty simple and straight forward. I liked this mindless work. 

After work Pia was unusually quiet and unsurprisingly still at my place

I didn't have the heart to ask Pia to leave. When she noticed I wasn't feeling well, she busied herself with making me soup. It tasted horrendous, but I kept that to myself. She seemed to enjoy taking care of me, which, honestly, made me uncomfortable.

The next day was even worse. I managed to get to work, but Pia was everywhere, hovering over me, worried to the point of suffocation.

The following week, I had a trip planned to Spain for our annual reunion. As I packed my suitcase, Pia sat on the bed, watching me, eventually asking why I hadn't invited her. I knew I'd reached a breaking point—I had to do it.

"Pia, you're great," I started carefully.

"No, no, no," she cut me off. "I won't let you break up with me. Why do you always sabotage yourself? We're happy!"

Her voice grew shrill, and I felt a pang of guilt.

"I'm sorry, Pia. I just... I need to be alone right now. And you deserve better, to be fair."

She burst into tears, and I felt utterly useless, just muttering apologies as I kept packing. At one point, I even offered her the apartment, though it wasn't really mine to give.

Pia offered to take me to the airport, but I declined. I didn't want to be in the same space with her, not after everything. Meeting up with the old gang was exactly what I needed. Marco's family had a villa in Zaragoza near the sea, and we had it for the weekend. It was just Damian, Marco, Ignacio, and me. I still didn't feel quite like myself, but it felt good to get away from Pia, from London, and just hang out.

Damian, my Polish friend from uni, had been fully absorbed into our group by Marco and Naz, whom I'd grown up with. The plan was simple: invite everyone over, get stupidly drunk, and just let loose. Pia kept messaging me even after I left, and it was overwhelming. She was putting our breakup on display—Instagram, Snapchat, all of it. I ended up unfollowing her just to escape it.

By Friday night, Damian's friends from Poland had arrived with an alarming amount of vodka. Everyone from our school days showed up, and once the drinking began, the night quickly devolved, everyone doing their own thing.

Saturday morning, I woke up with a brutal hangover, next to someone I didn't quite recognize. The nausea hit immediately, and I started vomiting. At first, we thought it was just the vodka, but when it didn't stop, we decided I might actually be sick. I was taken to the emergency room and admitted.

By Sunday, my mom was there, and the doctors broke the news: I had cancer—stage 2 multiple myeloma. My dad took it quietly, and my mom broke down. Strangely, I didn't feel sad or anything, more like a numb acceptance. Since there were no pressing symptoms, I returned to London.