Every love story holds folds that are hard to put into words: an unsaid farewell on a street corner at midnight, a station platform where someone waits in the morning mist but the person they long for never comes, or a faded movie ticket tucked away in a drawer. The bitterness beneath the sugar coating ferments over the years into amber-colored flecks of light. In the end, we come to understand that regret is an essential piece of love, a kind of wholeness with a part missing.
