She cried.
Not softly.
Not beautifully.
She cried until her throat burned and her chest ached and her body felt too weak to hold itself up anymore.
Jay sat on the cold floor with the letter crushed in her fist, her back pressed against the bed, her knees pulled to her chest.
Tears kept falling.
But even as they fell… a cruel thought kept repeating inside her head.
What use is crying now?
What use was breaking apart after everything was already broken?
Her sobs slowly turned quiet.
Heavy.
Ashamed.
She pressed the letter against her heart and whispered through shaking lips,
"I should have been careful…"
Her voice cracked.
"I should have been careful with you."
Her mind replayed everything.
The way she raised her voice first.
The way she cut him off.
The way she turned small moments into fights.
The way she watched him grow quieter and still chose anger instead of softness.
Not because she didn't love him.
But because she never learned how to protect what she loved.
She covered her face with her hands.
"I had you…" she whispered.
Her shoulders shook.
"I had you… and I treated you like you would never leave."
The room didn't answer.
His side of the bed stayed untouched.
His silence felt heavier now than all the arguments she had ever created.
Jay lowered her hands slowly.
Her eyes were empty.
Tired.
Broken by understanding.
Crying couldn't bring him back.
Screaming couldn't erase her words.
Regret couldn't rewind time.
She finally understood the cruelest truth of all—
Love is not proved by how deeply you feel it.
It is proved by how carefully you hold it.
And she…
She had learned that only after losing everything.