By the time the war was over, it was too late. It didn't matter that I wished I hadn't gone silent. Because by the time I realized my mistake, it was too big, the distance too far, the wrongs I'd done too deep and wide to breech. My regret was infinite. And that regret had made me lonely. Angry. It had changed me, twisted me into the man I was now. And now … now it was impossible to see a way back. I told her now or never, and that mistake would haunt me until the day I died.
