I Remember When We Broke Up Novels & Stories

Let him remember. This time, I was not the one walking away broken.

"Ralph? Her boyfriend?" "Ex-boyfriend," I corrected. "They broke up? Damn, the two seemed to be so in love." "They were." I responded, remembering how we would all have double dates, and Celia would look so happy with him. A frown slipped onto my face as I thought about the part I had played in their breakup. Noticing my sad demeanor, he lifted my face to look at him. "What's wrong, love?" "I feel terrible anytime I remember I also played a part in their breakup." A curious, inquisitive look slipped onto his face.

But a broken sound slipped out anyway. “Fun,” he repeated under his breath. The word felt wrong. Like it didn’t belong in his mouth anymore. A shaky laugh followed, cracking halfway through. “Thirteen years…” he whispered. His head fell back against the door, eyes unfocused. Every memory felt different now. Every look, every touch, every moment he thought meant something had shifted. His fingers curled into his shirt over his chest like he could rip it out. Like that would fix it. It didn’t.

Then he died. She was framed for his death. Lily was broken and traumatized, and her mother was still unwell, so she was very worried about her. Thalia listened, offering a supportive ear and sharing stories of her own to lighten the somber mood. Despite their grim circumstances, a fragile friendship blossomed between the two.

My head turned so fast I got a whiplash. "Don't ever speak like that ever again, that wasn't just terrible it was plain murder, you're a murderer!" I exclaimed jokingly to Becca as we giggled on her doorstep. "Was that Tristan?" She asked "Yeah, we kinda broke up." I prepared myself for I- “What, How could you guys break up? What are we singles supposed to do?!" Becca yelled, swinging her hands around dramatically. "Omg, you guys finally broke up!" I covered my ears waiting for her to calm down.

We lasted for two years and broke up because well, we outgrew each other. He was my first love, crush, and all but I would never forget those harsh words he said to me the night of when we broke up. That I was a useless person and he wasn't really in love with me. Figured out that two weeks after we broke up, he moved on. And now, just looking at him, I can feel my anger bursting through my veins as he stood there, waiting for me to say hi. ''Mike?'' I questioned. ''Hey.''

I no longer loved him; I even hated him, so I felt nothing. In the end, he said, “Tina, I’m sorry. I know I’ve done wrong. Can we still go back to before?” Before? I did not know whether Matthew truly regretted his actions, and I did not know what exactly he was referring to. We stopped sleeping with each other the moment I got pregnant. There was no “before” between us. If he was talking about our past while we were still students, his white hair already gave him the answer. “Stop being stubborn, Matthew. Things have already ended between us, and you caused it. Have you forgotten about it already?”

[When a man suddenly becomes nice to you for no reason, it means he's guilty. Her junior's off-handed comment stuck with him. After five years of dating and two years of marriage, he still could not remember that I was allergic to mangoes. Since the seven-year itch was inevitable, I supposed I should just let him go.

I muttered, cracking one eye open only to instantly regret it. The sunlight came in like it had a personal vendetta against me, stabbing me right in the pupils. "Renato?" I croaked, voice scratchy, like it had gone through a blender overnight. I didn’t remember falling asleep here. Actually… I didn’t remember falling asleep at all. The last thing I recalled was walking into the bar and… and... and what? "Shit. I can’t remember what happened." I tried sitting up, but my midsection protested like I’d been in a wrestling match with a bear. I knew this feeling too well, only when Renato and I had sex that I usually feel this way.

The soft swell of the string quartet filled the air, a gentle melody that seemed to blur the world around her. My chest tightened. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. She looked… breathtaking. And she was about to be mine, at least for a while. I had imagined this moment more times than I could count—ever since we were those foolish kids in high school, drunk on summer air and the kind of love that feels like forever. I used to joke about her tripping down the aisle, about how I’d probably cry like a fool when I saw her in white. But I cried for a different reason; instead, I cried when she broke up with me without explanation. And no matter what anyone said, I never really recovered from