One shot

Thank You- Her Point of View

You left me broken hearted...

Lost and confused.

I often think I won't ever make it…

Not without you and your love, your embrace, your words…

I often ask myself what I did to lose you…

And if time could turn back, what should I do differently.

You had said it was your fault, that you were selfish and that your heart just strayed.

I rather not think of you that way though…

Despite the pain I'm feeling…

The torture I'm going through…

I don't want to remember you this way.

I don't want to remember how you left me so easily.

I don't want to remember you as a man who stole my heart and left me yearning for you while you rush into the arms of another woman, and together you two left me as I cried out after you.


I much rather remember it as my fault…

That I didn't love you enough…

That I was too needy, I was mean, selfish, and cruel.

I wish that you had told me it was my fault.

I would much rather believe that then the fact that you just didn't love me.

That you fell in love with another…

I rather not remember you by hating you…

Why couldn't you do that for me?

Why did you have to be so cruel?

You left me loving you…

You left me not wanting to hate you…

But I feel it…

The ugly feeling of pain and hatred. It is a bitter feeling… It turns you and changes you.

But that doesn't mean I'll accept it.

I'll fight the hatred.

And I'll try to blame myself.

Anything to not remember you by hating you…

I saw you again today.

It was unexpected.

I was just turning into the dairy aisle in the market when I saw you.

You look the same… and you were smiling.

I always loved your smile… It was always warm and comforting…

All the things that I love about you…

Those feelings of love, hate, and pain flooded through me as I watched you pick up a bucket of butter and placed it into your cart.

I took a shaky breath and was about to say hi…

And then I saw her…

She's beautiful… The girl you love.

She too has a warm and lovely smile.

You two looked wonderful as she hugged you and kissed you…

You look so happy…

Both of you do.

Probably much happier than you ever looked with me.

I quickly turned my cart around and went down another aisle.

A tear slid down my face…

And without knowing exactly why, I said hi to you out loud… With you and your love standing just an aisle beside me, happily together.

Only you don't hear it…

And you would never hear it…

At least… Not this hi.

I am missing you again.

I dreamt of you… Of us… Of how we were together.

How was it that you didn't love me, but that I still felt so loved by you?

I shed many tears after that dream.

Why, oh, why can't I stop loving you?

I changed jobs today.

It was irrational of me and so… Not me.

You remember how much I hate being an accountant. As I walked into my office, I realized that I didn't want this life…

It was bad enough without you… Could I honestly spend the rest of my life counting numbers I didn't care for?

Perhaps that was why you left me…

I was always trying to be living a safe and secure life, even though I hated my job… Just as long as I made enough money…

Oh how you've changed me…

After I quit, I was just walking downtown and suddenly saw this small office building.

Many homeless people were rushing in and out of the doors… And I just followed the crowd.

It turned out to be a lawyer's office… They did pro bono work, mostly for the homeless.

There are three lawyers that work there. Two was a man and a woman in their 40's, a married couple.

I had met the woman first… She had mistaken me as a homeless person.

Would you believe that?

When I told her I wasn't, she asked me what I wanted…

I wanted you… But I didn't say that.

No… All I said was I didn't really know… Then, I quickly changed my mind.

I knew what I wanted.

I asked for a job.

And surprisingly, she gave me one.

I am now an assistant for one of their lawyers…

It had turned out one of their assistants, there were only 3, had dropped out because she had just given birth and wanted to be a housewife now.

Later on I had met the other assistants.

They were two guys.

They are young, one older than me, one younger.

As I sat down and waited to be introduced to my new boss, I found myself thinking of you…

I know it's foolish of me…

But I just want you to see me now…

Would you think differently of me? Or would you still love her?

After the busy afternoon was winding down, I finally met her husband. He was a nice man and complimented his wife very well.

Sort of like how you and your love compliment each other.


I met him.

He is tall, taller than you by an inch, with dark hair, unlike your brown curls.

He is nothing like you.

At first I just thought him aloof and mysterious.

But then he ordered me around, completely impolite and cold.

He is nothing like you.

I hate him.

This new boss of mine is completely arrogant and mean and so frustrating!

He doesn't seem to have any emotion.

He seems like ice, only he won't melt.

Oh, how I wish he could melt. Then that way I wouldn't have to work for him!

I complained the woman lawyer, who is fast becoming my friend. She told me he was like that, but to paid him no mind. He did many good deeds, and was a good lawyer.

I don't believe her though.

We constantly argue…

Unlike you, he doesn't listen to anyone else's opinions, or anything.

Unlike you, he has no compassion.

I hate him.

We are working on this case about a little homeless boy who is about to be taken away from his mother.

He doesn't seem to care about the little boy or about his mother.

I bet you would care.

All he does is just work on the case, but doesn't work on the people.

He doesn't make sure they are all right, that they feel safe or anything.

He is just ugh!

If it was you, I know you would care.

Maybe not about me…

But I know you would care about this little boy and his mother.

I'm thinking of you again.

It's almost Christmas and I was walking to work when I passed a store with snow globes as its window display.

I remember that Christmas gift you gave me, a snow globe of Santa Clause…

I was so touched by that gift… You had actually remembered what I said on our first date. That I still believed in Santa Clause, despite how deep down I knew he wasn't real. You remembered how I said my father once gave me a snow globe of Santa, just before he died, but then I lost it.

You remembered.

And now…

I'm remembering you.

He's different today.

Perhaps it's because it is Christmas Eve and the holidays bring out someone new within him…

He's much quieter…

He doesn't yell at me…

He doesn't even notice that I changed his coffee to tea (he hates tea, and I just wanted to mess with him).

I'm a little worried.

Is something wrong with him?

See, this is just one of those things I don't understand about you guys.

With you, you always just build something when something upsets you.

With him, I don't even know.

I'm sitting across from him now, highlighting some of the documents.

I'm sneaking peeks at him… It's is like I am waiting for him to explode or something…

Perhaps he is tired. It is almost midnight…

God, I can't take this anymore! We have not fought once today, and it is just wrong!

So I ask him what is wrong with him.

He looks at me, surprised.

He replies like how you replied back then: nothing is wrong.

I laugh at him and say yeah right. I know something is wrong.

He again denies anything is and goes back to reading his file.

Remember how when this happened with you, I always ended up just leaving you alone, thinking you just needed time by yourself?

For some reason, I didn't do that with him.

Don't ask me why. I don't know why.

So I press further. I start to blabber on about how despite our differences, I was still, in a very strange way, his friend, and that he should just tell me what is going on so he would feel better.

I'm thinking he will tell me to mind my own business, or say nothing again, like you. But unlike you, he doesn't push me away.

Instead, he lets me in.

The anniversary of his mother's death is today.

I'm speechless, and even if I wasn't, I know I should still stay quiet.

I let him continue, knowing he needs to get it all out.

I watch him, his face, as he tells me how his father had abandoned his mother and him when he was just eight. His mother had never worked before, and it was hard to find a job. They ended up being homeless. For about a year, his mother would beg for food, and tried to give him an education and all the good things. She even went as far as to smuggling drugs, just so he would have some nice clothes to wear. But it was because of that, that she was arrested. His mother was a weak woman, and could not handle prison life. She ended up dying in prison, due to a fight that had broken out. He was then shuffled to foster home to foster home, and finally ended up with a nice family who was willing to adopt him. They gave him all he needed, showered him with love, and paid for his education.

It was because of his mother he wanted to be a lawyer for the homeless, to help them not end up with the fate of his mother.

It was because of the street life that caused him to be more guarded; to be cold. It was the only way he knew how he could survive.

You would think that was all he had left to say, but then he does something else that takes me by surprise.

He says sorry to me. Sorry for being an ass and all that.

I look at him.

His face is graced with pain and melancholy…

And I finally understand why he is the way he is.

As I accept his apology, I realize that he was different.

Unlike you, his smile isn't warm.

Unlike you, he acts as if he doesn't care.

But unlike him, you never let me glimpse into your life like he did.

And I don't want to think of what that means.

We met by accident; you and I were both rushing, late for work.

We suddenly crashed into each other outside a clothing store.

It was very cold that day.

You were such the gentlemen though.

I remember how you kept saying sorry as you picked up my things.

I remember how I was so breathless to say anything.

Then when you straighten up I saw how handsome you were and I was speechless.

You said sorry one last time and left me standing there.



Wondering and hoping if I could ever see you again.

A friendship is forming between him and me.

Its weird how so much changed after that Christmas Eve with us.

Maybe because he was able to finally let out his anguish that changed him.

He smiles a lot more now.

And I find myself liking his smile.

He doesn't have wonderful dimples like you.

But for some reason… His smile seems… Much more special.

When he smiles, he looks like a young little boy.

When he smiles and looks at me, I feel like that smile is for me alone.

And that scares me so much.

Because I am remembering your smiles for me, and I realize how I never felt that way about you.

Your smiles were charming and made me want to kiss you.

His smiles…

They make me feel…

So different.

And that scares me.

The second time you and I met was at the mall.

We were doing our Christmas shopping.

We were one of those rare people who actually bought gifts early.

You were the one to recognize me and said hi to me first.

I was shy that day.

You were the one to ask me out.

Even to this day, I wonder about that.

Why would you ask me out when there were so many other woman out there.

But you did.

And I would have been a fool if I had said no.

He is sick today.

And for some unexplained reason, I'm worrying about him.

Which is stupid because why should I?

With you, throughout our whole relationship you were never sick. I was always the weak one.

You would always make me soup, sit with me in bed and watch over me, making sure I would get better.

Without him here today, I'm out of it.

I can't seem to concentrate properly.

I always stare at his office door. I even went in once or twice and tided up the desk (he was a messy person).

I keep staring at the phone.

No, I will not call him.

Just as the day almost ends at the office, I am one of the first to leave.

But instead of heading down my usual path, I head to the store.

I'm not much of a cook like you were, so I instead settle for some Tylenol.

I cannot believe I am doing what I am doing.

Somehow, when I was out of it or whatever, I got his address.

He lived near the office in a studio apartment.

I knock on the door.

I hear some shuffling and grunting on the other side and then the turning of locks.

The door opens.

He sees me.

I see his messy hair, his red nose, a gray blanket over his shoulders, and him in flannel pajamas.

Then I do something stupid.

I start laughing at him.

He glares at me.

What do you want he says through his stuffed up nose. He then proceeds to say I am cruel if I had brought work with me because he is sick and dying and should not be working.

It is my turn to glare at him.

I tell him that I came out of the graciousness of my heart and that I have brought with me Tylenol. I then go on to tell him he is rude for not inviting me in.

He moves aside and grumbles something under his breath.

I enter.

His apartment, unlike his office, is fairly neat. He is not as organized like you were, but he had a nice place. His bed was big in the corner; his desk was beside his bed, stacked with files. Littering the floor were a lot of tissues, all used. Apparently he was so weak he couldn't aim for the trashcan.

I ask him how he is feeling and he answers: like hell.

I hand him the medicine, which he thinks me without much gratefulness in his tone, and then slumps on his couch. The television in on the news, but he isn't watching it. His eyes are closed and he moans.

I tell him he is acting like a baby and he opens his mouth to insult me, but stops.

I ask if he ate anything.

He says no, he can't keep anything down.

I tell him he needs to eat and I go into his kitchen.

Well, I wasn't a cook, but I did know how to make one thing.

I proceed to make the meal and when I was down I placed it on a tray I found behind the refrigerator, and bring it to him.

I say hear, eat.

He looks at the food and gives me a look as if to say: You gotta be kidding me.

I exclaim what.

He says that he is sick and that I expected him to get better by eating cereal, Cocoa Puffs no less?

Yes, cereal is not a known meal for the ill, but it was the best I could do.

I tell him so, and added that he should be appreciative that I even bothered and then begin to force feed him.

He only eats a few bites, unwillingly, and then says he will puke if I give him more.

He leans back down on the couch as I turned off the T.V.

He looks at me through his half closed eyes and asks why I am here.

I honestly did not know the answer.

I shrug and say to him that he was my boss and if he died, I would have to probably find a new job or whatever.

He looks at me and doesn't say anything about my answer. Instead he begins to mutter random things.

He goes on about the weather, how horrible he feels, and then finally how he wished he could eat his mother's chicken noodle soup, one she used to make for him when he was little, when he was sick.

Slowly he drifts off into dreamland.

I find myself watching him.

He looks so peaceful, despite his loud snoring.

I softly lifted the blanket to cover him more, and then I just sit there. Occasionally I would get up and get a wet towel and wipe his face with it.

As I slowly fall asleep myself, I realize that the first time in days or weeks, I didn't really think of you today.

And I don't know if that's a good thing…Or bad.

You were my first love, did you know that?

I know I probably wasn't for you. After all a guy like you probably had loved before.

I was the first one to say I love you.

Now as I go over our memories, I'm thinking of a time when you have said you loved me.

And I see that you never really did.

When I had said I love you, you hugged me and kissed me.

Your kisses always caused me to forget everything.

I even forgot that you never said it back.

He's funny.

He makes me laugh a lot more now.

No longer does he stay quiet and ignore me.

He talks to me and share with me his memories.

One night, we were working late again.

He told me a joke and I laughed. We work and talk about random things.

He mostly does the talking. I don't mind. He doesn't do it on purpose. He had kept so many things inside of him and never had anyone to tell it to. Now he does.

When he is done telling me about how he first learned to ride a bike, I do something I never did.

I told him about my dad.

With you, I only told you about Santa Clause and my father's gift to me. But I never told you the story of how he died.

I did tell him though.

I told him my father died when I was ten, due to cancer.

I didn't know the truth though. My parents thought it best to keep it from me.

I was young and naïve, I didn't notice how my father got tired easily or how he was slowly losing his hair.

The day he died, I was so mad at him.

He didn't buy me the doll he promised he would buy me.

I got so mad at him, I ran away from him.

It wasn't until a few hours later; I came home, thinking my father would have bought the doll for me.

And he did.

But he collapsed after he had paid for the doll in the toy store.

He was rushed to the hospital and died there.

My uncle had told me.

I blamed myself for his death. I remember the last words I said to him, that I hated him.

I was a horrible daughter and even now I feel like if I had just not care about the stupid doll, had just paid attention…

I started to cry after I told him about it.

Without knowing it, he was by my side, kneeling down and his arms were around me.

I cried into his shoulders.

He let me.

And we stayed like that throughout the night.

I'm thinking of you less and less.

I find myself smiling without you and actually doing what I didn't think I was able to do: I'm living.

And I can't help but think that…

It is because of him that I can do so.

When I was with you, I never really did anything for you.

You were always the one who gave me things.

Was that why you left?

Did I not care enough for you?

Did I take and not give back?

Because if so, I guess I found a reason to blame me for our demise.

Cooking is evil.

You can get burn, chop your finger off, and sweat a lot.

How you were able to handle the torture of cooking, I will never know.

Anyway, I did something you always wanted me to do but never did when I was with you: I cooked.

I had to take a class to learn how to cook, but then I got kicked out because I almost set the place on fire. I then went to my mother who gave up all hope on me.

So I decided to learn by myself.

Big mistake.

After what seems like a billion disastrous tries, I finally created something edible and probably the best out of all the other failures.

I put the soup in a thermos; I was cooking all night, and set off to work.

He wasn't there yet, and because I was shy, I placed the thermos on his desk and then rush out and began to work on little things.

When he came into the office, I avoided him. When he entered his office, I suddenly regretted what I did.

How stupid was I?

Why did I bother?

What if he ended up dying because of the stupid chicken noodle soup?

I would go to jail!

I began to think of all of these stupid thoughts and felt more and more like dying when he stepped out of his office and called me in.

With my head bent down, I reluctantly went into his office.

He told me to close the door and when I did and turned back to his direction, he had a playful smile on his face. He lifted up the thermos and waved it.

He asked what it was.

I began to stutter and mutter things I didn't even know. I believe I said something about since I saw how much he missed his mother chicken noodle soup and the fact that I made him cereal while he was sick, I felt bad so I decided to make him the soup. And I also owed him for being there when I cried like a baby in his arms.

I was avoiding his eyes as I went on and on. When I finished, I heard him uncap the thermos. I look up and saw him drinking the acidic soup.

I was expecting him to drop to the floor and puke, but he kept drinking the soup…

All the way to the last drops.

I watched in amazement and I even felt giddy that he actually drank it. Was my cooking actually that good?

He wiped his mouth and said that the soup was awful and could not compare to his mother's.

I was insulted and was about to kick him when I thought if the soup was so horrible why did he drink it?

I was about to ask when suddenly he thrust the thermos into my hands, told me to work on it some more, and then left his office, calling out to his fellow lawyers about a case.

I left standing there, feeling half happy and half like wanting to kill him

I saw you again today. This time he was with me.

You were holding her hand, laughing and just walking around.

You were still with her, and for some reason I was surprised about that.

He had asked me to watch a movie with him and we were just leaving the theaters, laughing and being stupid, when I saw you.

I stopped in my tracks and watch you from across the street with her. It wasn't until you turned the corner that he spoke out loud and asked me if I knew you.

I nodded, still speechless that I saw you.

The thing was, when I saw you I still felt a pang of hurt. I still cared about you and that fact was all the more evident when I saw you.

I turned around and walked the other direction with him trailing behind me.

It wasn't until a few blocks away, that I broke down.

Again, in his arms.

He held me and didn't ask questions.

He was just there for me.

And I needed that, so badly.

After the tear flow stopped, I told him of you and of us.

He listened and said nothing.

When I was done, I said I wanted to go home. He nodded and took me to my little apartment.

He only asked me once if I was all right. When I said I didn't want to talk about it, he didn't ask anymore. When he left, I sat on the couch in the dark.

I thought of you…

The impact you have on me always surprises me.

I wish so much that I could get over you…

I really want to.

But I guess only time can heal this pain.

I still love you…

I still think of you…

Do you think of me too?

Ever since I saw you, things have been awkward with him and me.

We don't talk about our personal lives anymore. We just talk about work, and only rarely do we crack jokes with each other.

One day I was getting coffee when the woman lawyer went up to me. She asked what was wrong between us.

I said nothing was.

She told me I had changed him and that he was actually looking happy. Now he looked sad…

I didn't want to deal with this conversation so I said I had to get back to work and I left her standing, more confused than ever.

I miss him.

I miss his friendship and him being there for me.

We are back where we had started. Him being cold, and me being hurt. But this time I'm not hurting because of you, not right now anyway. I'm hurting because I miss his companionship.

We're fighting again, mostly about stupid things.

Every time we fight, I always wanted to shout I'm sorry, that I wanted him to be my friend again.

And each time I leave the office, my heart is tugging at me to go back in and talk to him.

But I am afraid to.

What will he say?

I miss him.

If he knew that, what would he say?

I miss him, but I am too scared for him to know.

He was kissing me.

A man who was cold and aloof, a man whose friendship I yearned for, was kissing me…

All because of a fight we had.

We were working on a case, and I told him he should go and visit the family.

He had said what was the point.

I looked at him, not believing a man with his past, would say such a thing.

I snapped. I told him to stop being a bastard.

I asked what the hell was wrong with him.

He yelled back.

We first began to yell about the case, but then somehow it became about us.

He told me if I wasn't happy about the way he did things then I should just leave.

Out of the frustration I felt, I said fine, I will.

I turned around and left his office and then the building.

Outside, I tried hard to keep the tears that threatened to fall in. But I failed and hot tears were sliding down.

Suddenly I heard footsteps behind me and someone grabbing my arm.

I turned around and saw him.

Still mad, I told him to let me go.

He just looked at me, no longer mad or anything. He just looked at me with my tears, and slowly he touched my face.

I looked at him, no longer able to say anything.

He wiped away my tears with his thumb.

He whispered sorry and then…

He kissed me.

I didn't push him away…

I kissed him back…

We stood there, in the cold, not caring that we hadn't locked the building's door, that there were practically no lights around us, or the fact that at night, the neighborhood could be dangerous.

Something happened.

I felt feelings I never really felt when I was with you.

These feelings with him…

They are more intense, more real…

The love I felt for you was comforting, and safe.

With him, I'm scared, nervous, excited.

With his lips on mind, feelings swirl inside of me…. And there as I stand, I know…

I love him.

To love someone other than you was new and not something I was ready for. As soon as I thought that thought, I pushed him away.

And then…

I ran.

We never spoke of the kiss after that night.

Now when I'm around him, I feel my heart expanding, and I just want to hold him and have him kiss me again.

But I'm too scared.

This feeling of love is so strange to me only because I am feeling it for someone other than you.

And no longer do I feel safe or anything.

I feel confused and all the more in pain.

I wonder what he feels.

I wonder what he thinks.

But I don't.

And all I can do is that every time I see him, I can only think: I love you.

Another late night at work, with me across from him.

We sit in silence.

I give him a file, and our hands brush against each other's.

I glance at him. He doesn't notice or care.

I go back to stapling some papers and so on.

I hate the way we are acting towards each other.

Out of the blue I tell him I'm sorry.

He looks up, but doesn't say anything.

He then goes back to his documents.

I feel disappointment, but I know I deserved it.

I had pushed him away.

I stand up to go get us some more coffee when suddenly he asks me if I still love you.

I stand there with my back towards him.

I honestly don't know the answer.

The best answer I give him was that I think I would always love you.

He then says to me that he can't be with someone who is still in love with someone else.

I know the meaning behind his words though: I can't be with you.

I clutch our mug handles tighter. I tell him I understand and then leave to get the coffee.

In the lounge there was no more coffee left. I rummage around, taking my time to start another pot. As I press the bottom and the coffee begins to brew, I find myself crying again.

I'm sorry.

Is it wrong that I hate you now?

Not because that you hurt me…

But because of you I can't be with him.

I don't think I can hate you though.

It's my fault.

I can't stop loving you, even if the love faded into an old memory and just a feeling of the past that I will forever hold onto.

I want to tell him that you were my first love and that you are forever carved into my heart. That he can't expect to forget you, to not love you anymore.

I want to tell him that I love him and that I love him more than you.

But I can't get those words out.


It's because I'm not sure if I can. Each time I see you I freeze and it seems I haven't moved on.

Getting past loving you is easy.

It's getting past hating you and the pain I feel that is hard.

And I don't think I can be with him until I can move on from you entirely.

He's moving on.

And this hurts much more than I am hurting over you.

We were leaving our offices early and suddenly a beautiful woman, beautiful like your love, came up to him.

He took her hand and kissed her in front of me.

My heart broke for the second time in my life.

I wanted to yell and cry, to say that he betrayed me. But in all reality he didn't for we never even began.

He looked at me and saw that I saw.

He excused himself from his new girlfriend and asked to talk to me.

Alone in the lounge he told me that he met her at the court. That she too was a pro bono worker and that they had a lot in common.

He told me that he couldn't wait for me.

He didn't look at me as he told me these things.

He turned around to leave me and go back to the girl, but stopped.

He then muttered that he loved me, but that it hurt him for me to love someone else. He whispered a sorry and left.

I stood there in shock, once again on the verge of tears.

He loved me.

And I blew it…

Can I hate you now?

They come and go together a lot.

He looks happy.

He smiles.

No longer for me though.

She comes by a lot.

She's wonderful.

Nice, beautiful, intelligent.

Like your love.

I can't help but pity myself.

You left me for another woman.

And he stopped waiting for me for another woman.

I'm always left in the dark as you two walk out into the light with another love.

I'm hurting so deeply inside.

You left me broken hearted…

Lost and confused…

You left me in pain.

And I can't get over that…

He left me broken hearted…

But I'm no longer lost or confused…

Just in pain.

And all because of you...

But it's my fault.

I brought this onto myself.

I just don't know how to bring myself out of it.

It's been a month since they have been together.

I love him from afar.

I envy the girl.

Life seems to play games with me.

First you…

Now him…

Will these games never end?

My father's death is today.

I wake up knowing this.

I have another hour before I have to get ready for work.

I lay on my bed.

On my father's anniversary back then, you would just hug me and that was all I needed.

But I now think that hug was just to help block the pain.

It didn't get rid of it.

Memories of me yelling at my father and telling him I hate him all because of a doll come into my mind.

Images of my uncle telling my father died.

The guilt… The regret…

I was never able to say goodbye to him…

I spend the hour blaming myself…

I shed no tears though.

I won't let myself.

To shed tears is to help ease the pain…

And I don't deserve that.

I get up, shower, and skip breakfast.

Before leaving my apartment, I see the snow globe you gave me. I take it and put it into my bag, wanting it close to me for today.

I then head to the office.

Everybody was there, even him and her.

Usually I would think to myself why she doesn't have a life of her own to get back to since she always hung around the office.

They were laughing and kissing, but I ignored them easily. Today I didn't want to bother myself with this.

The only one who noticed I was out of it was her, but that was because she was the only other woman in the office who paid attention.

She asked if I was okay. I nodded and forced a smile.

Around the afternoon, I went into his office. He and his girlfriend were out in the reception area interviewing some clients.

I sat in his chair and placed his phone in front of me.

I stared at it.

Then I picked up the receiver and dialed my mother's number.

I asked if she's all right.

She said to not worry about her and that she was fine.

She asked me. I lied.

I told her things I usually told her. To not cry, to just think of the good times.

My mother knows me though. She tells me to do the same thing, and to stop blaming myself.

I tell her I won't.

Again, another lie.

I hang up after that. I stare at the phone again and run my hands through my hair. I close my eyes, already tired from lack of sleep.

Suddenly he comes in and sees me.

I open my eyes and quickly get up. I tell him sorry, but I needed to use his phone.

He said it was all right. We stand there, awkward. He looks at me and I can feel his questioning stare.

He knows something is wrong.

He asks if I am all right.

I nod.

Then, his girlfriend comes in, jumping onto his back and kissing his cheek, saying she was trying to find him.

An awkward moment intensified.

I excuse myself and went out the office.

I feel his eyes on my back.

I thought I was able to get through the day.

It was almost five, and I was all ready to leave.

Then it happened.

Everybody was outside. The assistants, all the lawyers, and even she were still there.

Everyone was rushing to get things done for the day. The assistants were making copies, getting the lawyers to sign things. The lawyers were discussing a few cases and all that.

I was serving drinks to the last few other clients the lawyers were talking to.

A little girl, about ten or maybe younger, was sitting beside her mother, silently crying.

I asked if she was all right.

She said she lost her doll.

I asked her where.

She told me it was behind the desk where all the lawyers were standing around.

I told her to grab my hand and take me there so I can find it for her.

The others had to move out of the way for us, and they were a slightly bit annoyed. I paid them no mind.

Suddenly I see a porcelain leg sticking out from under the desk. I tell the girl I see it and I grab it.

I pulled the doll out and was about to hand it for her when I looked at the doll really closely.

And that was when I cried out.

Everyone looked at me, confused.

I was sobbing for no apparent reason. The little girl looked scared.

I was embarrassed, and mad at myself for giving into my tears.

I quickly handed the doll to the girl and excused myself from everyone.

I ran out of the building.

I didn't make it far.

I ended up dropping to the ground crying my eyes out.

The doll was the doll my father had bought for me.

I had given that doll away for donation.

And there it was, facing me again on the day my father died.

Suddenly I feel someone standing over me. Then that person kneeled down and touched my face. With his thumb he wiped my tears away and I knew it was him.

I begin to sob and muttering: my father… He died today… The doll….

He held me and kept whispering soothing words and sounds. He told me it was all going to be all right.

It took a while before I settled down and when I did, he finally made me stand up.

I then separated myself from his arms and told him thank you for being there for me.

I headed back to the building to get my bag.

Everyone was looking at me with worry and confusion in their eyes.

I just apologized for the episode and got my bag. Before I left, he asked me where I was going.

I told him I didn't know.

I walked around for hours and finally I knew where my final destination was.

I went to the grave site of my father.

I hadn't been there for a while.

As I made my way towards my father's grave stone, my heart pounded.

I reached the spot and read the marker: A loving father and husband. A man worth having on this Earth and a man who made life worth living.

I took out your snow globe and placed it onto the marker.

I allowed the tears to drop as I finally did what I couldn't do.

I said goodbye.

A week later, I started noticing the two fighting.

I never knew what about, but it looked seriously.

About another two weeks later, I no longer saw her around.

I was having him sign a file when he suddenly said to me that it was over between them.

I was surprised, but I didn't respond.

What could I have said? I'm happy you finally broke up with her?

Before I left the office, he told me that they broke up because he was in love with someone else.

I still said nothing.

The married lawyers in the office were planning on having another wedding to renew their vows.

Everyone was invited and we were told to bring dates.

He looked at me and I looked at him.

It has become strange between us.

We were both quiet, but yet when we look at each other there were many things that were said.

Looking at him, I knew.

We were both going solo.

Their wedding celebration is to last all night.

Dressed in a light blue dress, I enter the huge ball room. Apparently there were two weddings and parties happening tonight.

I'm running a bit late and I rush to sign myself in at the table.

Then out of the corner of my eye I see someone familiar.
I turn and look.

And it's you.

You're dressed in a sleek black suit with a black tie, and you look very happy today. Behind are wide open doors and I see your love dressed in a lovely wedding dress.

Today is your wedding day.

You finally notice me and you say hi. You look genuinely happy to see me, and I am surprised that I am too.

You're the first to say hi, and you offer me your hand to shake. I take it and as our hands tighten around each others, nothing happen to my heart. It just continued to beat steadily. I no longer feel the pain or that feeling I used to have with you.

You ask me what I'm doing here, and I tell you that my friends are renewing their vows. I ask you the same thing, despite the fact that I already know. You tell me you have just gotten married and now you're having a reception. I say congratulations to you and you thank me. I tell you I'm really happy for you, and I mean every word.

You ask about me. Did I get the promotion I wanted? I tell you I quit my job a while back, and you look surprise. For some reason, that made me proud of myself. You go on to ask about my love life. I hesitate before I answer you. Truth was I don't know the answer. So I tell you that I don't know. That I hope there is someone… And that I'm just still waiting for the right time.

You look at me, studying my face. You laugh, run your hand through your hair, and say to me that you thought I hated you. After what happened between us… You thought I would never want to speak to you again.

I smile. I tell you that there was a time when I was close to hating you, but I never did. I tell you that you were my first love that I didn't want to remember you by hating you. I tell you I want you to be happy and that you deserve everything.

Unexpectedly you hug me. You tell me that you are happy things are okay for us and you say that you wish me the best too. We let go of each other and you new bride calls for you to greet some new guests. We say goodbye to each other, that it was good to see each other again. As you turn to leave, you cast one more glance at me.

I can't help but feel that this may be the last time we'll see each other.

I turn around and I see him standing there. He must have seen us together. He looks at me and I look at him.

I'll walk up to him and take his hand.

He'll look at me with questioning eyes, but I won't say anything.

I'll just lead him into the other room, opposite from you, and we will sit down and watch as our friends renew their vows.

When the night ends, I'll take him for an early morning walk.

He'll still be wondering what happened between you and me, and I won't say anything to him yet.

And when the silence finally gets to him-just as he is about to ask- I'll finally speak up.

I'll look into his eyes as I tell him that I'm sorry.

I'll tell him that the only reason I couldn't let go of you was because you were my first love… That the pain took time for me to get over.

Then I'll swallow down my fear as I finally take the big step and tell him what I know he wants to hear and what I want him to hear: I love you.

From then on it will be up to him. He can turn around and tell me that it is too late….

Or he can say those three words back to me. And if he does that, I'll smile up at him and I'll kiss him.

Whatever happens though, the fact that I'll be able to speak those three words aloud will be because of you.

You taught me to love.

You taught me the good and bad of it.

I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you.

And I'll always be grateful to you for that…

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

The End

Author's Note: In case you guys want to know what brought on this story, check out my profile. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this fiction.