She tightened her grip on my shirt, her fist trembling. She screamed in silence. She grabbed
my arms, too firmly it left marks all over. She cried her heart out for what felt like days.
Knowing this was going to be the last time for everything. For our relationship; for us. ‘Us’?
There won’t be ‘us’ after tonight. It will only be ‘her’. And ‘me’. Quite seldom will end up
written in the same book, and possibly never in the same sentence.

She looked so much in pain. Why do you hurt so much?

I couldn’t bear to see her crying so painfully, but I had to. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to see
her for the last time.
Showing her love.
But in pain.
Hurting because she loved me, too much.

As if it was getting too much to handle, she stopped crying. Her hands were terribly shaking;
she put them close to the core of her chest. I wiped the remaining tears that were resting on
her damp cheeks. She looked up and locked her eyes to mine.

“I can’t let you go.”

Her words felt like a thousand daggers.

Neither can I. You are the last thing I ever wanted to let go. I cannot imagine going on
without you – how will I ever find the strength to wake up every morning, knowing that you
will not be by my side anymore? Please don’t go. Stay. Be with me, because losing you is like
taking away the biggest part of me.

Instead, I said, “I don’t think I could, too, but we have to.”

It was stupid. We both knew. How important we were to each other. How we thought that we
were meant for each other. Yet we walked away, out from each other’s life.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

– One Year Later –

I smile bitterly at him, trying my best to look as if I’ve been okay.

He smiles back and sits across me.

“Why aren’t you guys saying anything?” asks my friend, even though she knew what
happened exactly a year ago, and how it’s been taking a toll on me.

“I don’t know.” I give a short reply.

“Well, I have something else to do–I’ll leave you guys alone.” My friend leaves her seat and
goes away without waiting for our reply. I shift uncomfortably in my seat. He blinks for
what seemed like a long time and then stares at me.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been well, I think.” I think? Way to go, Lil. “How are you?”

“Same old, same old.”

I nod in response, and we fall into silence.

“You know, it’s funny how things turned out now.”

I almost snort out a sarcastic laugh. “You’re the funnier one. You dated your ex right after I
left.”

He laughs dryly. “Right. Sorry about that.”

I never knew why he did that, and I will never know. I’ve been torn. My brain wanted me to
believe that he really did not love me that much – that he needed a mere replacement. That he
didn’t even bother to consider how I’d feel; that the break up did nothing to him, at all.

While my heart knew, he did that to let me move on from him.
So that I would not have to cry over us breaking apart, and to loathe the bastard instead.
He has no idea how much I hate him for that.

~

After I apologise, she smiles sheepishly and let her gaze fall down. I take the chance to
stare at her. At the face I used to caress at night. At the person whom I used to love so dearly.
At the one who I thought I wouldn’t be able to live without.

But she lived without me. She went away, leaving me alone and heartbroken.

“It’s been a year now.” she says suddenly. I advert my eyes to the ceiling.

“I know. Time flies.”

Time flies my . If anything, time was crawling like a one-month-old baby, not wanting me
to heal the painful, invincible wound. Every day was a living hell; everything I see reminded me
of you. My car and our countless road trips. The university, where we would be hanging out for
hours just to talk. My black-rimmed glasses you used to love wearing. The street vendor food
and how I wished I could bring you to a restaurant instead, but you dismissed the idea, saying
how ‘it’s food all the same’. My wallet, which still has your photo in it. My phone and the
messages I couldn’t bring myself to delete. My navy blue and white striped jacket, which I’ve
told you to always keep it with you, but instead had gotten sent back to my house just several
days after you left.
Along with a black book covered in turquoise-coloured swirls with only twenty pages written.
Twenty pages worth of our relationship. You let me read how you felt when we first met.
How nervous you were on our awkward-turtle first date. How you hate seeing me turning
around when I leave your house. Your forever complex thoughts about our hypothetical future.
I could see you were planning to fill up every page, but I guess we broke up too soon.

The silence has been lingering for too long I might die if I stay still.

“So, what’s new?”

~

What’s new?

Nothing’s new. You might have some new things, though.

I see you living a better life now. I never asked, but my college friends told me that you
turned into a much brighter person. They said you’ve changed for the better. Was it because
I left?

I should’ve felt happy for you, but I just couldn’t. Everytime I want to forget, I always get
reminded of the very first few months after I left you. The first few months living in a new
country. New city. New home. Couldn’t even call it home back then; it felt too foreign to me.
Even the bed, and the pillows. Even after I cry on them every single night. It used to hurt too
much not to cry. There was one time I couldn’t cry anymore – probably because I used up all
my tears. After a while, slowly but sure, I began to cry less. I began to think about you less. I
learnt how to love you less. But once in a while, when something reminds me of you, how we
used to be, and how I used to love you – I’ll always break down.

“Nothing’s new.”

~

“No boyfriend?” Cheap shot, I think to myself.

“Boyfriend?”–I swear she almost rolled her eyes–“Pssh, who are you kidding? I look like
lately. Not that I mind...”

And has never looked more beautiful.

If only I could say that to her. I’ve never been the cheesy type, our relationship wasn’t like
that. Although I do regret now, because as stupid as the famous saying ‘You never know what
you’ve got until it’s gone’ sounds, it’s sadly true. Never have I realised how beautiful you
are. Or how pretty you’re always dressed. How easy going you are compared to the other
girls, and how accepting you were of me. I’ve just realised it all now.

But it’s too late – I know I can never get you back.

Not after what I’ve done to you.