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The night was as cold as her heart, a December chill that seeped into every corner of the room. She stood there, her breath misting in the frigid air, a flicker of hope in her eyes. She had gathered her courage, her heart pounding in her chest, ready to pour out her soul.

But I, in my arrogance, had dismissed her. "I'm too tired," I had said, my voice flat. "Just come inside and we can talk." 

She had hesitated, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face. But she had turned and left, her footsteps fading into the night.

I had been too caught up in my own comfort, too oblivious to the pain she must have been carrying. Perhaps she had wanted to confide in me, to share her burdens. Perhaps she had needed a shoulder to cry on.

Now, she was gone, a memory frozen in time. I had missed my chance, my opportunity to be there for her. I had hurt her, deeply, and there was no going back.

The guilt gnawed at me, a constant reminder of my mistake. If only I had gone out with her that night, if only I had listened to her. Perhaps things would have been different. Perhaps she would still be here, her laughter filling the room, her love warming my heart. 

But it was too late. She was gone, forever. And I was left with a frozen heart, a constant reminder of the love I had lost.

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