Annie said, "one day you'll regret this, you know." Two and a half years later you are not regretting so much as registering. Suddenly you remember the peacefulness of the tiny one bedroom, a home built together. You had purchased everything in the apartment together, down to the thin mattress pad you'd used to sleep on for a month and probably permanently damaged your necks and backs from. Eventually a bigger mattress was purchased, and finally a bed frame even. You'd gone from using scrappy notebooks to keep a budget to Mint. You were only able to carve out a life, in some ways, as a unit, in a city of wonders. You don't regret, can't, because regret doesn't really exist in a dimension you could really comprehend.
With time, you only learn to be more thankful. For every moment that was bestowed on you. And it is because of the past that you learn to appreciate the present, however delicate it might be.