Don’t you see? You let the person who said they couldn’t live without you, realise they can. – Wong Fu Productions

  “We need to talk.”

  The night was quiet. The world was nothing out of the ordinary. That is unless; you didn’t peek into my window. That is unless; you didn’t sense the heavy silence between her and I.

  She looks at me, serious and unmoving. I, on the other hand, am on the verge of crying in pain. The darkness masks the expression on my face. I couldn’t bear to look her in the eye.

  It has finally come to this.

  “Let’s break up.”

  The moment the words left her lips, I fall.

  Why does she affect me in such a way?
  She looks away; her jet-black hair covers her face. My heart summons the courage to reach for her hand but my hand refuses to lay a finger on her. I recoil.

  “I…” the words can barely leave my mouth, “I understand.” She looks up, trying to read my face.

  I am not lying. Things have drifted apart between us. Things… Things have change. Why should I fool myself into thinking that nothing was wrong between us? But…

  I do take her hand and gaze into her eyes, searching desperately for a sign of regret. I do not see it. I do not even see a flicker of longing for me. I let go.

  I wonder when this all happened.

  I wonder why I didn’t take the precaution of preventing this.

  The air conditioner buzzes in the background. I stand and walk to kitchen. A tear falls.

  “Why didn’t you call?” I loosened my tie and slumped into a chair.

  “I was busy,” I replied nonchalantly and poured a glass of water as she stood at the sink, arms akimbo. She huffed and turned away. Her body movements suggested that she was annoyed. I didn’t take the hint.

  Why didn’t I?

  “Too busy to even make a call home? I made your dinner and now its cold!” I flicked my hand in disregard.

  “I was really busy! You know my work, it’s hard to even get away for a minute.”

She glanced away, chewing her bottom lip. An emotional battle raged within her.

  “I know… But I just-” she drags a chair to sit in front of me, trying to get my attention, “I just wish that you could just send a word home.” I glanced up to see an immense sadness in her eyes. I felt guilty.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “I promise I’ll try to next time.”

  But, the next times failed to fulfil that promise. She stopped asking. I forgot she ever did.

  It was too late when I realised I took her for granted.

  I hear her feet padding against the tiled floor.

  “Why did you run away?” she asked. I hurriedly wipe my tears away and turn towards her.

  “Nothing, I just wanted some-” I pause while my hands fumble for a clean glass, “-water that’s all.” I give an awkward smile while raising my glass. Discomfort and disbelief colours her face. Her hand toys with the dry scab at her elbow. She ignores my reply.

  “The dog,” she says, “what are we to do about the dog? I mean I have already sorted through the other things.” She pulls out an unclosed box. Its contents so full that it threatens to fall out. She sees me notice this and sheepishly comments, “I couldn’t find a bigger box but this seems like it’ll do.” I walk to her and take it from her hands.

  “I can’t believe that after all these years that you have kept these stuff” she shrugs.

  “I mean, why wouldn’t I? They were once things I treasure dearly.” I give a small smile and reached in, grabbing an item at a time. Some of the items recall foggy memories. Actually most of them did.

  How is it that I could have forgotten what these items mean to us?

  I pull out a bunch of dried up roses, which were clearly carefully preserved. She must have seen the lack of understanding in my eyes.

  “They were the roses you gave to me on our last anniversary.”

  My vision blurs. I drop the roses. Her words are ringing in my head.

  On the day of our anniversary, I was drunk.

  Work had been really tough lately and all I could think about was getting away.

  “Dear, I’m home!” It was 1 am in the morning. Yet, she was wide-awake, waiting for me to come home. Through my hazy sight, I could see worry and frustration etched in her brow.

  But, I was too gay to really tell.

  “Where have you been? I was so worried!” She removed my coat and I slumped against her. She gasped at the strong alcoholic stench.

  “What’s wrong with you? Did you go drinking again?”

   Her constant bickering annoyed me. I scowled and pushed her away. My feet stumbled towards the couch. I can vaguely see her shaking her head in the darkness. I closed my eyes to rest. I hear her sigh.

  “I’ll get you a cup of water.” She walks away.

  She didn’t even mention a word about our anniversary.

  Why didn’t I remember? Why had I been so selfish?

  She came back and forced me to drink. Too weak to protest, I do. It felt like many moments had passed as I sat there in her arms. I can barely hear the sounds around me. My head hurt.

  But I could feel he