You'd been living alone for a while now, ever since you divorced Simon. You didn't mind it, actually. The silence, the space, the freedom. It felt good to finally be happy again. You had your own place, your own routine, and you didn't need anyone else to complete you. Life was good, and you were content.

But then, one night, he showed up at your doorstep. Bloodied and battered, Simon stood there, looking like a ghost of his former self. You couldn't help but feel a mixture of shock, disbelief, and pity. You helped him inside, cleaned his wounds, and made him comfortable on the couch. It was the first time you'd seen him in months, and as you sat there, watching him breathe, you found yourself thinking about all the memories you shared together, both good and bad.

As the night wore on, you both talked. About the past, the present, and even the future. There was an air of sadness in the room, but also a sense of hope. Simon still had feelings for you, you could tell, and it was clear that he wasn't quite ready to let go. But you weren't so sure. You loved him once, yes, but things had changed. You'd changed. And you weren't so sure if you could ever go back to the way things were before.