Work Text:
It was a cold winter night. She was looking out the window, watching the snow fall from the sky and into the darkened city.
For some reason she had been plagued by memories and regrets for a few weeks now, and today the nostalgia was especially strong. It all happened on a night like this, during another dark winter, where the snow was also falling. He had come to celebrate their anniversary, with roses and love. She had been cold and distant; she had grown tired of this relationship.
At the end of the night, restless with her distance, he finally asked what the problem was. She wasn’t able to hold it in any longer, she broke it off right there, in her apartment, on their anniversary, with the roses still on her counter, where they would wither and dry.
She knew she had hurt him, and that her timing, at least, had been terrible. She had thought over that moment over many times over time. Why? She was never sure, but she always felt like it was because it had been unfair to him, she had wronged him and could have done things differently. But her reasoning had suddenly changed three weeks ago, when she ran into him at a bookstore.
They hadn’t seen each other in two years, not since that fateful night.
They had an awkward and stiff conversation. Maybe it would have been better to ignore each other, but they had talked. It was nothing beyond the basics of small talk, weather, work; he looked good, he had been busy with work, she asked about his family. He was especially uncomfortable, probably remembering their last conversation. It was a five-minute conversation at the bookstore, but she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
She wondered if maybe the reason why she was constantly reminded of that winter night was because she regretted the break up itself, not the way it occurred. Though of course the way she had done it didn’t help.
In these last three weeks she had let herself think more about everything that had happened than she had in the last two years. She finally dwelled on her emotions. Memories flooded her like something had broken inside of her and it was now overflowing everywhere. She remembered their first conversations, the first dates, the constant exchange of messages. She remembered when they travelled to the mountains in the summer, her watching him smile and laugh from the passenger side, they laughing together. He could always make her smile, even at the bookstore, in that stiff and quick conversation, he still did. She remembered realizing she was in love with him, during the fall, on a chilly evening, right after Halloween. That had been the turning point. She began to slowly back away after that. It felt like the cod from the winter was creeping into her as well. Dark thoughts of him leaving plagued her. So she left first.
Truth was, she missed him. Truth was, she had never forgotten him. Then why did she break up? The only reason she could find was fear. Fear of a broken heart. And in the end, they both had one.
It was like a lightning bolt had struck her, the realization that fear had ruined a beautifully blooming relationship, and her regret filled her with a bitter taste.
She decided to call him the next day, to beg for another chance. Explain her reasons. But would he listen? It had been two years after all. But she thought that it was worth the chance. She would shallow any pride that could stop her, and she would call. She remembered how his guard was up at the bookstore and she understood. But she needed to explain herself. The last couple of weeks had been filled with half-slept nights and restless days. She knew she needed to try.
The following morning, she dialed his number. All she got was an answering machine. The chain was on his door, and she understood.
Still, she left a message, apologizing for that night, telling her of her fear and that she missed him. She wanted to see him. She begged for his call.
It never came.