9. Regret

I'm not sure how long we stay like this—his arms holding me close as my body trembles with each quiet sob.

The strange part is, I don’t even know why I’m still crying—or why I started in the first place.

I wanted to break up with Wes. I should have done it a long time ago. So why does it feel like I’m the one being left behind?

"Are you okay?" Bill’s voice is soft, a little rough around the edges, like he’s unsure if he should even be asking.

His grip around me loosens, just slightly. I tilt my head up, and our eyes meet—his filled with concern, mine still damp from the tears.

I nod. "Yeah… yeah, I am." My voice is quiet, shaky, as I wipe the lingering tears from my cheeks.

I step back, gently pulling away from him.

As I glance around the room, I realize I hadn’t really taken it in before. Now, with my mind clearer, I notice the details. A large bed, big enough for two. A desk cluttered with papers. A couch positioned in front of a sleek TV. And then…

I pause, my eyes landing on something that makes me raise an eyebrow.

"Seriously?" I turn back to him, a grin creeping onto my face. "A fridge? You have a whole fridge in here?"

Bill exhales a short laugh. “Hey, don’t judge. Midnight snacks are a necessity.”

I arch a brow, crossing my arms. “A necessity, huh? What exactly are you stocking in there? Five different kinds of energy drinks? Leftover pizza?”

He smirks, stepping past me and popping the fridge door open with a dramatic flourish. “See for yourself.”

I lean in, expecting a mess of takeout containers and questionable food choices, but instead, I find…

“Fresh fruit? Bottles of water?” I glance at him, impressed. “Okay, I was prepared to mock you, but this is surprisingly responsible.”

Bill shrugs, reaching in to grab a soda. “Gotta keep some balance. Can’t live off caffeine and junk food forever.” He pauses, then shoots me a look. “You want something? Might as well take advantage of the luxury fridge while you’re here.”

I hesitate, then reach for a small container of strawberries.

Popping one into my mouth, I let the sweetness settle on my tongue. Bill watches me with an amused glint in his eye. “Better than leftover pizza, huh?”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.

He grins, taking a slow sip of his soda before leaning casually against the desk. “So… are we gonna talk about it?”

I freeze mid-chew, my fingers tightening around the container of strawberries. “Talk about what?” I ask, though we both know the answer.

Bill tilts his head, giving me a look that’s equal parts unimpressed and amused. “Come on, you just spent the last ten minutes crying into my shirt.”

I let out a breath, setting the strawberries down. “I wanted to break up with Wes.” The words feel strange coming out of my mouth, like I’m still trying to convince myself they’re true. “I should’ve done it ages ago.”

Bill doesn’t say anything, just nods, waiting for me to go on.

“But when I finally did…” I hesitate, pressing my lips together. “It didn’t seem like he cared. At all.”

Bill studies me for a moment, then sets his drink down and crosses his arms. “So, you’re not upset that it’s over. You’re upset that he’s not upset?”

“…Yeah, I guess so.”

"I know breakups aren’t easy," he says, his voice softer now. "And I’m sure he cares more than he’s showing."

"Maybe," I murmur, exhaling a slow sigh. "But does it even matter?" I shake my head, more to myself than to him. "Whether he cares or not… it doesn’t change anything."

"No it doesn't, unless you regret it?"

I frown. Do I regret it?

I think about all the times I told myself I was done. The nights I lay awake, rehearsing the breakup in my head, convincing myself it was the right thing to do. Because it was the right thing.

Wasn’t it?

I exhale, shaking my head. “No,” I say, firmly. “I don’t regret it.”

Bill watches me, like he’s trying to gauge if I actually believe my own words. “Good,” he finally says, nodding slightly. “Then that’s all that matters.”

I let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t really feel that simple.”

“Because you’re human,” he shrugs. “You spent how long with the guy? Two years?”

“A little over two years.”

“Right. And even if you knew it wasn’t working, that’s still a long time to be with someone. You don’t just flip a switch and suddenly feel nothing.”

I glance up at him, surprised by how easily he understands. “It would be easier if I could.”

"I know," he says, his voice quieter now. "I speak from experience."

He looks at me with a soft smile, but there’s something else there too—something almost distant. For a moment, I’m not sure if he’s talking about me or someone else.

We both stay quiet. I shift slightly, a strange unease settling in.

I clear my throat, forcing a small smile. “Enough about me,” I say, trying to break whatever moment we just fell into. “Tell me more about you.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize how ridiculous they sound. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, shaking my head at myself. “I mean… I know you, obviously. That just… came out weird.”

Bill chuckles. “A little.”

I huff, crossing my arms. “Well, in my defense, I don’t know anything about the last four years. I did stalk your Instagram, but…” I trail off, shrugging. “That’s not really you.”

His eyebrows lift slightly, a smirk creeping onto his lips. “You stalked my Instagram?” He leans in just a little, clearly entertained by the revelation. “And here I thought you moved on without a second thought.”

I scoff. “How could I?” My voice softens. “I loved you.”

The amusement fades from his face. His smirk disappears.

“You broke up with me,” he says, his voice steady, but the sadness in his eyes gives him away.

"You know why."

He nods slowly, his gaze drifting away like he’s looking at something I can’t see. The room feels smaller, like we’re stepping back into a conversation we left unfinished years ago.

I swallow, shifting my weight. “Did you have… girlfriends?” The question slips out before I can decide if I really want to know the answer.

His eyes meet mine again, hesitation flickering across his face. His mouth opens slightly, but no words come out.

I raise an eyebrow, forcing a chuckle to lighten the air. “What? So many you lost count?”

Bill exhales a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, it’s not that.”

“Then what?”

He hesitates, then shakes his head. “I didn’t have any… girlfriends.”

I don’t miss the way his voice trails off, the slight pause before the word. I tilt my head, watching him. “You had a boyfriend.” It’s not a question—just a fact, like I’ve always known.

Bill’s eyes snap to mine, surprise flickering across his face. “You knew?”

I shrug, offering a small, knowing smile. “Of course I knew.”

His brow furrows, like he’s trying to figure out how I could possibly know something he never told me. “How?”

I hold his gaze for a moment before looking away. “I don’t know. I just did.”

“Why did you break up?”

Bill exhales a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe we should sit down for this.” Without waiting for a response, he walks over to the couch and sinks into it, resting his elbows on his knees.

I hesitate for only a second before following, sitting beside him. “That bad, huh?”

I pull one leg up onto the couch, turning slightly to face him.

"It was a mess—one of those exhausting, on-and-off relationships that never really work but somehow keep dragging on. Fights that never really ended, trust that kept breaking, and more excuses than actual apologies. Cheating, lies… the kind of mess you don’t realize is suffocating you until you’re finally out of it."

"How long did it last? Before you actually broke up?"



We talk for hours, losing track of time until the first light of morning filters through the curtains.

But I don’t care. I don’t feel tired.

Silence settles between us, and something shifts. Bill suddenly feels distant, his gaze flickering away from mine. An uneasy feeling creeps in, curling around my ribs like a warning.

"You want some coffee? Breakfast?" His voice is casual—too casual.

I watch him for a moment before answering. “Coffee’s fine. I’m not really hungry.”

Bill nods and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.