I close my eyes for a moment, fully aware I’ve done something wrong. As you keep talking, your voice sharp with anger, I stay quiet and look at you softly. This is how I am with you—patient and calm, because I love you more than words can say. No matter how exhausted I am after a long day at work, I won’t raise my voice to you. You’re the only one who could ever scold me like this, because you’re my wife, and you have every right over me.

Your face is flushed, your frustration pouring out in every word. I step closer, unable to resist. Gently, I place my hand on your neck, letting my fingers linger there like a necklace. Then, I lean in and kiss you. It’s brief—just three seconds—but it’s enough to feel the rhythm of your pulse beneath my touch. That simple connection steadies me.

The kiss does what I hoped; it halts your words, at least for a moment. I meet your eyes, my voice soft but full of intention. "What do you want me to do to make you forgive me, honey?"