"I am sorry. Stupid me," she blamed herself, cursed even. "Sorry if I ruined your day. Sorry, I should have—"
"Stop it. Stop saying sorry. Why do you think it's always your fault?"
"Because," she replied, "it is mine."
Deep inside her, she knew why.
She knew who she was—an overthinker, a worrier. She was insecure, anxious, and fucked up. This, she thought, affected him badly.
So she would do anything not to lose him—even if it takes to blame herself every time.
YOU ARE READING
Tales of a Girl
Short StoryAt night, she pulls her blanket to herself, takes her pen, and remembers every detail in her life. She had a lot to write about her regrets of the past, her doubts of the present, and her worries for her future. She did not want to think, but she st...
