The old hinges creak loudly as I pull the bathroom door open. Brad stands in front of me, his face tortured with what I detect could only be regret. Not regret for what could have been, but for what happened in our past that led us to feel these feelings in the first place. And I realise, just like me, he holds on to his anguish like it is the last food on the planet despite it being a poisonous apple.
We have never talked about this before, not since that Valentine's day a few years back when I had to tell him it was over between us. Ever since then, so much has happened in both of our lives that we were too afraid to revisit the past. Moving on just seemed the better option, especially for me.
