"You will break my heart one day," he said to me.
"No! No, you will break mine," I said to him.
He was going to propose to me in Paris. I suspected the top of the Eiffel Tower would be the place.
"If you're planning to ask me something later, don't do it," I said, as we walked through the streets of Paris.
"I wasn't going to," he said, kicking a stone onto the road.
The text message. It wasn't good. In fact, it was so bad, I woke him from sleep.
"What's this?" I said, holding his phone in his face.
"That's my phone," he said.
"Just tell me what happened," I said, an hour later.
"Nothing happened," he said.
We sat on the bed, not looking at each other. Around and around in circles, we went.
"Tell me what happened," I would say.
"Nothing happened," he would say.
"Tell me what happened," I said.
"I kissed her," he said.
In the end, I suppose we broke each other's hearts.