He took another sip of alcohol, not because he needed it, but because he didn’t know how else to exist anymore. The regret came in waves, sharp and sudden, every time he thought of her. He remembered how angry he used to get, how easily he turned cold. He saw the fear in her eyes back then, but he never stopped. He told himself it was love, but it was control, resentment, and pride. Now, even with the truth clear in his mind, nothing inside him had changed. He still carried the same bitterness, the same weakness, the same need to run from himself. And the memories were lost long ago, drowned in everything he couldn’t take back and never tried to fix. He hated himself most in the quiet moments, right after the drink, right before the numbness set in.