Do you regret asking

She asked, “Do you regret leaving me?”

The air was tense between them. They sat side by side, an arm’s length apart, facing forward, staring at the last wisps of orange fading out of twilight. Eight months ago she would have been snuggled up against his chest, his arm around her shoulder. Today they could hardly meet each other’s eyes without looking away. A thoughtful stillness fell over them, and she didn’t realize she was holding her breath until the silence lasted a moment too long. She was only starting to wonder whether or not he would answer at all when he finally spoke:

“No.”

He was quiet again. Then,

“Did you want me to regret it?”

She sighed. “Yes,” she said softly.

“Oh yes, I did…”