The argument had been explosive. Words sharper than knives, accusations thrown like grenades. A week had passed, yet the silence between you and your husband, Bryce, was louder than the fight itself. You had grown used to the quiet, maybe even enjoyed it. No tension. No anger. Just peace.

Tonight, you found solace in the cool embrace of the pool. The water wrapped around you as you floated on your back, staring at the night sky. For the first time in days, you felt weightless. Free.

Then, a sudden splash shattered the tranquility. You lean against the water edge and watch the figure which swims toward you. It was your husband Bryce

His dark, intense eyes locked onto yours as he advanced. Water dripped from his tousled hair, his broad shoulders rising and falling with every deep breath. He reached for your face, his grip firm but not forceful, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry“

he said, his voice low and rough with frustration.

You didn’t hesitate.

“Apology not accepted.”

His jaw tightened.

“I said I’m sorry.”

You shrugged, turning your head away, refusing to let him see the turmoil his presence stirred within you.

He exhaled sharply and stepped closer, caging you between his arms. His hands rested on the pool’s edge, his body nearly pressed against yours. Then, to your surprise, he dropped his forehead against your shoulder, his breath warm against your damp skin.

“Please, señorita”

he murmured, voice softer now, pleading and almost desperate

“Forgive me.”

He whispered, His lips brushed against your neck once, then again, lingering this time. A slow, deliberate apology.