I should have known it wouldn’t work out between us.
Didn’t we always know that? he said.
I paused for a second. Then I just said: I didn’t.
Well, but what does it mean for a relationship to ‘work out’? he said. It was never going to be something conventional.
I got up from the bench. It was too cold to sit outside. I wanted to be warm again. Lit from below, empty branches scratched at the sky.
I didn’t think it had to be, I said.
You know, you’re saying that, but you obviously weren’t happy that I loved someone else. It’s okay, it doesn’t make you a bad person.
But I loved someone else.
Yeah, I know, he said. But you didn’t want me to.
I wouldn’t have minded, if …
I tried to think of a way to finish this sentence without saying: if I were different, if I were the person I wanted to be.