She was too harsh that day,
anger spilling over,
words sharper than she meant them to be.
Regret followed, heavy and unshaken.

She reached out, hoping to mend,
hoping to understand.
He told her he never loved her that way—
not in the way she had thought, had hoped.

Suddenly, she was her mother,
he was her father,
and the past repeated itself
without her even realizing.

She doesn’t blame him.
They were never meant to work—
she, a heart that longs for love,
he, a heart that can’t feel it the same way.

Still, it stung.
How easily he let go,
how little she seemed to matter.
She wanted a fight, a reason to stay,
but all she got was silence.

She told him she was in a bad place back then,
how it made everything feel heavier,
how she loved him more than she should have.
The hurt was real,
even if the reasons weren’t simple.

Now, they are something,
not quite friends, not quite strangers.
Maybe this is better—
to know, rather than wonder,
to speak, rather than hear his name in passing.
She hopes she made the right choice.