When people mess up, they know it. Even if they stroll away like nothing happened. Even if they act as though they were never in the wrong. Maybe you start to wonder if they truly believe that; if they’ve rewritten history to come across as the good guy in this. What if you’re the only one still privy to the truth?
Trust me, he knows what he did.
And maybe not tomorrow, maybe not even a month from now, but eventually, that pit in the bottom of his stomach is going to start gnawing away. He’ll blame acid reflux. He’ll down Tums like breath mints. But your face will find him in the middle of the night when he stumbles upon your Instagram. Or maybe he goes looking for you, for signs of his mistakes and if you’re happy or still mourning his absence.
Maybe he’ll text you. It always seems innocent. A simple, “how are you?” perhaps.
But you’ll remember how he destroyed you. Or, more appropriately, how he tried.
One day, he’s going to realize he screwed up. It’s going to hit him like one of those cartoon anvils leaving him stumbling, trying desperately to figure out how to undo it.
He’ll beat himself up for losing you. He’ll rethink every moment up until now and think how much easier, sweeter, better things would be if he still had you. He’ll hate himself a little bit. Maybe more than a little bit.
One day, he’s going to want you back. He’s going to reach out and hope it’s not too late to re-establish something. He’ll say that he was dumb or an idiot, but never fully take responsibility. He’ll say the words, but there won’t be substance behind them.
One day, he’s going to give you everything you spent all those tearful nights praying for.
But one day? You won’t even care.