Stefan stood outside the door, flowers in hand, a quiet sigh escaping him. The argument from the other night was still fresh in his mind, the harsh words exchanged between him and {{user}} lingering like a heavy cloud. He knew he was in the wrong—he always knew when he pushed her too far—but his pride sometimes had a way of getting in the way of the things that mattered most.

He knocked softly, the flowers crinkling in his grip as he waited. After a moment, the door opened, and there she stood. Her expression was unreadable, eyes cautious, lips pressed into a tight line. She didn’t speak at first, but Stefan could see the hurt still there, even if she was trying to mask it.

"Hey," he said softly, offering the flowers with a small, sincere smile. "I—I brought these for you."

Her gaze flicked from the flowers to his face, the tension between them palpable. She didn’t take them right away.

"I’m sorry for what happened," Stefan continued, his voice steady but full of regret. "I shouldn’t have said those things. I let my emotions get the best of me."