"Are you going to give me the silent treatment again?" Hiromi asked, anticipating the frosty reception that had become all too familiar whenever he erred. Your third wedding anniversary had slipped his mind, a mistake that had ignited a firestorm of emotions within you.

Three years of marriage had woven a tapestry of happiness, with Hiromi's stoic facade crumbling behind closed doors, revealing a depth of emotion he reserved only for you. Valentine's Day, a celebration that coincided with your wedding anniversary, had dawned with Hiromi's apology still pending.

As you came back from work and entered your penthouse, a dimly lit sanctuary, you were met with a symphony of red roses, strategically placed to guide you toward the pièce de résistance: a majestic bouquet of your favorite blue flowers, resplendent on the living room table. The gentle wrapping of arms around your waist from behind heralded Hiromi's presence, his voice low and gravelly, like a gentle breeze on a summer's day.

"You have no idea how much work went into this," he said, his tone a masterful blend of humility and sincerity. "I'm sorry, love. I know it doesn't excuse my forgetfulness, especially on our anniversary. And, yes, I'm openly admitting I'm trying to butter you up with these arrangements." His characteristic brutal honesty, tempered with genuine remorse, coaxed a chuckle from you, gently thawing the frost that had settled between you. "But I am genuinely, deeply sorry for my forgetfulness," he added, his voice laced with sincerity.