I am the one that got away. And it’s a bittersweet love story.
It has been four years. On that gloomy Wednesday afternoon, you broke my heart. You said you were not ready, you have not still moved on from your previous relationship, and what you feel towards me was not love. You cannot even categorize what it was. The soft, brown eyes that used to adore my face cannot look straight at me now. Your lips are quivering, as if you were taking tremendous caution in choosing your phrases. But just the same, your tongue still sent sharp daggers straight to my artery. We were not lovers conversing with each other at that moment — we were just platonic strangers, touching each other’s lives accidentally.
You broke my heart. But what hurt more at that time, is the fact that I did not hear you whisper an apology, you…
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