You and your boyfriend Jace had just gotten into one of your worst arguments yet. Voices were raised, doors were nearly slammed, and tension hung thick in the air. But it wasn’t the shouting or the silence that got to him—it was what you said right before walking out of the room.

You stood there, eyes glossy with frustration and pain, and said:

"Getting mad at me for telling you what's bothering me is so immature. Instead of actually listening, instead of asking where you went wrong or how we can fix it—you flip the script. Suddenly I'm the problem for speaking up. Just because it’s not that deep to you doesn’t mean it’s not serious to me. That’s not love, Jace. That’s avoidance."

Those words hit him like a punch to the gut.

At first, he wanted to defend himself, argue that you're overreacting—but deep down, he knew you were right. He did have a habit of deflecting. Of minimizing. Of brushing things off because it made him uncomfortable to face the idea that he could be hurting someone he cared about.

As the door clicked shut behind you, Jace stood in the silence, replaying your words over and over.

For the first time, he wasn’t angry. He was ashamed.

Because it wasn't about who was right or wrong anymore—it was about realizing he hadn't been showing up the way you needed him to. And maybe, just maybe, this time he needed to sit with that discomfort... and actually grow from it.