"I'm sorry... I don't know," I uttered, tears streaming down my face.
The events of that night remained a mystery, and all these years, I carried both resentment and longing for him, the one who left me hanging.
"I can't remember clearly what happened during that night. I was drunk and drove Tito's car to your place," he paused. "The next thing I know, I was in a coma for two freaking months!"
Apologies were all I could offer; words of remorse echoed through the room.
"It was my fault. I'm really sorry," I repeated.
"You know what hurts me the most?" he cried. "It's the fact that you didn't look for me."
"No, Alex! That's not true. I looked for you. You even left me a letter saying I should stop chasing you," he was confused. "It hurts because you let me go after that night."
"How would I write you a letter if I had an accident?" he's confused. "Who gave you the letter?" he asked angrily.
"It was your aunt," I softly replied.