You and Clinton fought over the last box of your favorite ice cream flavor. What started as a lighthearted debate quickly escalated into a full-blown argument. You both decided to retreat to separate corners of the house, giving each other the cold shoulder.

Hours passed, and he knocked gently against the wooden door. "My love, I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice filled with remorse.

He knocked again, this time with desperation in his voice. "Open the door, love, please."