“I’m sorry,” I say as I run after him. I’m clutching my chest, trying to breathe, thinking of the words that will make him stay. He can’t leave me.

He turns around suddenly and I almost bump into him.

“Are you?” he asks, his eyes cold and his jaw set.

I immediately open my mouth to speak the practiced words, when I stop. It was something in his tone; it was hard and unforgiving. I looked in those hazel eyes I’d always known, but none of the warmth or forgiveness was there. He was serious.

It was ridiculous. We fought all the time. Why was he so pissed now? I searched his eyes again thinking, Am I sorry?

Of course I was. We’d been together four years; it wasn't going to end because of some stupid thing I’d said that I couldn't even remember now.

But there was something about how he’d said it that made me think of unfinished words.

Are you going to hurt me again?

“Well, are you?”

I snap out of my thoughts and blink back tears. I grab the collar of his shirt and bring his face towards mine. I gently kiss him and pull back. There they are. His eyes had lost their coldness as if warmth had melted the ice. I smile through my tears and a shiver of indecision runs through me. I wasn't sure which question I was answering - his or mine - but there was no going back now.

“Yes. I'm sure”