Bobby fidgets in the seat in front of me and slides his right arm half way on the table, allowing his fingers to tap against the surface. A sigh escapes his lips and he swings his head to stare out of the window of the diner.

"Why did I even show up?" I wonder.

I glance over his shoulder watch a waitress, politely bending over to hand an elderly woman her drink.

We haven't said a word to each other since I've arrived.

My index and middle fingers sluggishly trace the rim of a medium sized, scarlet mug that currently holds the remnants of my previously ordered Earl Grey tea. I can no longer feel the steam linger upon my fingers.

Someone needs to break the silence.

it.

"Why did you call me?" I question, with my eyebrow raised and left leg jittering, in anticipation of his response.

He contorts his face, surprised that I had spoken. Readjusting his features, Bobby focuses his eyes on mine and retracts his arm to rest in his lap.

"I wanted to know how you're doing."

A simple Facebook page look over would've told you that much.

"You could've texted me."

I may or may not reply though.

"But I didn't want to do that."

"Hmmm," my fingers trace the handle of the mug, ghosting over the sticky, dried up tea stains.

"I'm good. You?"

"I'm well. I was made partner of my firm."

"Oh, wow. Congratulations," I respond halfheartedly and look down at the table.

A silence falls upon us again.

The waitress from earlier approaches our table with a coffee pot in her hand. The clicks from her flats abruptly stop as she reaches his seat. I raise my head, quickly glancing over at him before acknowledging the waitress.

"Is everything okay here? Do you need a refill?" She asks, gesturing to my cup.

"Oh no, thank you," I plaster a smile and take a sip of the cold tea.

"Let me know if you guys need anything," she nods at us before walking away.

Bobby readjusts himself in his seat, accidentally bumping his knee against the table, causing the table to shake and the mug to slide for a second. I clasp and hold down the mug, sending him a look. He quickly mutters an apology. I hum in response and a silent sigh escapes my lips.

"What did you really want to talk about?" My gaze returns to the cup.

"I wanted to talk about us," I glance up at him.

Oh really?

"Us? You've always made it clear that there were no 'us'."

"I realized how wrong I was about that. That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about..."

"Why now?"

"...I've been thinking about you."

He really isn't about to do this right now...

"What about me?"

"About we used to be so close," a boyish grin appears on his lips, something I used to swoon over.

Used to.

A scoff escapes me.

"You can't be serious...If this is what you want to talk about, I'll see you around," I begin to get up from my seat.

He mimics my actions and rises, while reaching to rest a hand on my arm.

"Please," he pleads, while tightening a grip on my arm, "Hear me out," he desperately asks.

"...I want to try to make it work. You and me...," he reasons.

"Why...Why now?" I take a step away from him, removing myself from his grasp.

"You think this will work only when you're ready?

You really thought I was going to wait for you?

Like you're the only person in the world?

I'll admit that I was in love with you, but you've always known. You relished in the fact that I had feelings for you. You had your fun as you led me on."

"It wasn't in my intentions to hurt you," he stresses.

"Really?! It hurts when you're the only one in love with someone and other person doesn't feel the same and keeps you around like a convenience."

The adjacent booths quiet down to listen to my rant.

I don't care anymore. I've held my tongue for the past three years.

"Did you know what you did to me?

At random times, I would end up comparing myself with the girls you were with; made me think I wasn't pretty enough, not smart enough, not tall enough, not light enough for you. And, that drove me to depression."

Something flashes in his eyes as I said the last sentence.

"Yes, you were one of the contributing factors to my depression. It killed me knowing that I couldn't be that person for you.

I just wasn't enough for you.

I was good enough to be close to you, to know your darkest secrets, to be intimate with, but never enough to be in a relationship with.

And don't even claim that "I have commitment issues" bull because I know that you can be in a relationship."

Now, the waitress joins in as a member of our audience, quickly setting down her coffee pot and notepad onto the counter in front of the register.

"This is bull," I exasperatedly say.

"If I did that that you did to me, we wouldn't be sitting here today. Now, would we?" I continue, causing him to look away in shame, while biting the inner flesh of his mouth.

"But thank you," his eyes return to mine.

"Really, I mean it. Thank. You.

Because of you, I've lived through my darkest moments and picked myself up. I've grown to love and cherish myself. I now believe that I am good enough. It was only you who didn't see that back then. And now I've met someone who loves and cares for me. I wouldn't have gone through that if it wasn't for you.

But for us to be together?" I laugh. "I'm good."

I reach over to grab my discarded purse in the booth. A thought appears in my mind, causing me to laugh again. Right before I turn to leave the diner, I glance over at him, one last time.

"Congratulations, you're the ex I never had."