"I love you."

Irene’s hand falls limp in Wendy’s grip.

It was just three words. But the sentence that makes it is meaningless.

She should swoon, Irene thinks. But her heart breaks more than it beats.

It would have been more appropriate five years ago, in between sleepovers where only two are left awake beside drunken friends, watching How I Met Your Mother and promising to get married at 40 if they're still single by then.

It would have made more sense if it happened at the annual university music fest, her favorite bands singing of defeat and lost loves, but she’s there holding a hand that screams otherwise.

It could have happened on that bus ride from her favorite place. True, they weren’t okay that time, engaged in a cold war about nothing. But if only they were both bold and more vocal with their feelings, they could have fixed it. They could have gazed at the skies more lovingly. They could have danced that night in their own worlds. They could have…

“I never got to say it when it mattered.”

Wendy brings her thoughts back to the present and away from the past and the regret she alone bears on her back.

“I love you.”

She says it again. Irene cries.

“I wish I had said it then.”

Wendy continues with a sad smile. Irene mutters, it’s a lie, but Wendy doesn’t