Sand

For every heartbreak he caused, a part of him turned into sand.

By three hundred and sixty fifth day, he had almost turned into a statue completely, save for his mouth.

"Yes? What is it?" She asked, noticing how hard he struggled to open his mouth, hoping for an apology, or a confession.

"I should have never tackled a witch's daughter, no matter how rich she is."

She destroyed his statue as soon as it was fully formed.