Regrets? He has them. He has hundreds of them.
He regrets that he is unable to be a better father to his children, unable to be everything they want and need. He is only a single man in a difficult world leading a difficult life, having to suddenly and solely cope with two small children. He is sorry for what he lacks, and regrets that he does not have strong enough hands to fix it all.
He regrets that -no matter how intelligent he is- he isn't smart. He regrets not knowing the answers to the questions their innocent eyes ask, not knowing the whys the hows and the wheres. He is sorry that he is not the all-knowing and nearly god-like man they believe him to be, and he regrets their disappointment.
He regrets not being able to love her like she loves him. He hates using her for his children, and hurting her so much. He despises the questioning and searching looks she sends towards him and he detests that she is so happy to settle for a man who is as broken as he is, a man who still desperately holds onto a woman he will never see again. He is disgusted with the way he thinks of another when she is beside him at times, and he regrets that he is so happy with her despite of all of this.
He regrets the way he leads his children into the life that destroyed their family and he regrets the way they love it. He knows how this life will destroy parts of them and what they love and he knows that this life will give them wounds that no one will ever be able to heal. He regrets that he cannot shield them and he regrets that one day he will have to see them carry the same scars he has.
He regrets that his hands are hard when it comes time for them to wish for something softer. He regrets the clumsiness that possesses him when they cry, and the fear that befalls him when they stumble. He regrets that the strength they see is not the one he possesses, and he regrets that they will want for more.
He regrets ever knowing her. He hates going to sleep and knowing he will dream of her and how she so carelessly left him. He regrets that he still knows her touch, that he still wishes that it were her hands instead of another's. He regrets needing her and he hates wanting her, though he detests wishing for her most of all.
But what he regrets the most is that when she turned to leave him he didn't reach out to stop her.
What he regrets most is letting her go.
Regrets? She has them. She has hundreds of them.
She regrets that she was not a better mother to her children. She regrets not being what they wanted or what they needed, and she regrets not being there when they wish for her. She regrets the tears she misses, the fights that will continue without her, and she regrets that she is who she is and not what she could have been.
She regrets the life she lives, the one that broke them apart so callously. She regrets how she threw what she loved away for something she thought she foolishly needed, and she hates how, looking back, she knows she couldn't have ever thought of taking another course of action. She regrets that they may follow in her footsteps, and she regrets the pride she will never get to feel.
She regrets that she left, leaving them all behind. Leaving the only man she had ever loved and the two lights off her life all alone to pick up the pieces. She regrets that they will forget her laugh or her smile, frozen pictures the only reminder of the woman who so desperately wants to come home. She hates that there might not even be a home to go to if she ever got out and found that they had moved on to someone else, and she regrets the resentment she would feel towards them for moving on.
She regrets not being better, not being the wife or mother that they truly deserved. She hates looking back and finding fault with everything she ever did, and she regrets not being able to ever go to them and fix it all.
She regrets that she does not know the time or the day. She despises knowing that the world passes on without her in it, everything so easily forgoing her existence. She hates not knowing which birthday has passed or when her anniversary has finally come around, and she regrets not being there to celebrate with them.
She regrets her faults and her misgivings. She regrets that her little angels, the lights of her life, may one day find out about the darkness that surrounds her. She knows that it will hurt them, hopes that it won't consume them, and regrets that she can't be there to kiss away her pains.
But what she regrets the most is that when she left she didn't even pause at the doorway, didn't stop to say anything to them before she left them forever.
What she regrets most is not telling them that she loved them.