Andrew sat on a park bench with a bottle whisky in his hands. The air was cold and the sun had already retired for the day.

He took a swing from the bottle; hot tears falling down his eyes.

He had always had hunch that Amelia was scared of him, with the way she was always fidgeting with her fingers whenever he was around her or the way she flinch when he tried to touch her at the airport.

He laughed bitterly to himself. How did he even think that things were going to be okay.

He felt so disgusted with himself. He had broken her so much that she...