You sat beside him, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light through the room. In the dimly lit bedroom, the shadows seemed to dance within the corners of the room, casting fleeting patterns on the walls. The night was silent, broken only by the occasional rustle of the wind against the window.

"It wasn't your fault, Martin," you whispered. You moved closer, wrapping your arm around his shoulders and pulling him into an embrace. He resisted at first, but then his resolve crumbled, and he leaned into you, his head resting against your chest. "It was never your fault."

“How can you say that?” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I hurt them…I can’t ever forgive myself."