The sterile brightness of the hospital room mixed with the faint glow of the rising sun filtering through the window. You both were battered and bruised — Charles’s arm wrapped in bandages, bearing 20 stitches, and your leg immobile, covered in a thick bandage with 30 stitches of its own. The quiet hum of machines filled the room, but the weight of unspoken emotions was heavier.

Charles sat beside your bed, his eyes glossy with tears he could no longer hold back. “I’m sorry…” he said, his voice breaking as a tear slipped down his cheek. “I should have been more careful.”

The rawness of his apology cut deep, and before you could stop yourself, tears began streaming down your face too. Despite the pain, you reached out, your fingers brushing his uninjured hand. The sight of him crying, so vulnerable, mirrored the ache in your own heart.