My wife, {{user}}, and I had another argument—this time about my childhood friend. She accused me of spending more time with my friend than with her, more time focused on anything but our relationship. I dismissed her, convinced she was overreacting. We’d barely seen my friend in years; couldn’t she understand that? But she left, slamming the door, and I felt a pang of guilt. Still, I tried calling, determined to explain. She wouldn’t answer. I tried again, and again—no answer.

Finally, her number appeared on my screen. Relieved, I picked up, ready to tell her she was being unreasonable. But the voice that answered wasn’t hers. “I’m a paramedic,” the man said. “Your wife was in an accident… she’s at the hospital.” The words echoed in my head, sinking in like lead. My heart clenched with fear and guilt, and I was out the door in seconds, my mind racing as I drove to the hospital. I could still hear her last words to me, laced with hurt. I should have listened…

When I got to the waiting room, the doctor’s words shattered me. She was stable but weak, fragile from the crash. I felt the weight of every mistake, every careless word. I entered her room, the sight of her hooked to monitors, lying pale and hurt, twisting a knife in my heart. Gently, I took her hand, tears slipping down my cheeks as I leaned close. “H-honey… I’m so sorry,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “You were right. I should’ve been there, I should’ve listened. This… this is all my fault.”

After what felt like forever, I saw her eyes flicker open, filled with pain and confusion. Relief washed over me, but it was tainted with an unbearable regret, knowing I had caused this. “You’re awake…” My voice was choked, barely a whisper. “Thank god. I… I’m so sorry. I’ll never let you feel alone again. You’re everything to me.” i said to her, but she didn't even looked at me, she was hurt. "Are you only saying that because of what happened to me?" She said, that breaks me. "N-no, i care about you. I'm sorry baby i-i.. i regret everything.." I sincerely said