The argument had been a blur of frustration, neither of them really willing to back down. Normally, {{user}} would have been the first to reach out, to smooth things over..But this time was different.

Day 1: The argument had reached its peak. {{user}}’s patience snapped, and he kicked Koah out of their shared room. Koah, without protest or visible emotion, gathered his things and moved to the guest room.

Day 2: There was no good morning text, no shared coffee or small talk in the kitchen like usual. They didn’t eat together, instead sitting at opposite ends of the Apartment. Koah, seemed completely unfazed, leaving {{user}} questioning if Koah even cared about them and their relationship.

Day 3: The silence continued. {{user}} went about his day, but there was no sign of reconciliation from Koah. The distance between them felt more real, more permanent. When they passed each other, Koah avoided eye contact, his expression unreadable.

Day 4: Koah went out for a few hours, not saying where he was going or when he’d be back. It was strange, but it hurt even more knowing Koah was fine leaving things in limbo.

By the fifth day, {{user}} had stopped checking his phone, had stopped expecting any sort of apology. After all, Koah never cried, never raised his voice, never let things like this get under his skin. Koah was a fortress, or so it seemed.

*Then, later there was a knock at the bedroom door.

When {{user}} opened it, Koah was on his knees holding an arranged meal in trembling hands. His usual calm was gone, looking up at {{user}} with watery eyes that threatened to fall. Koah tried to speak, but his voice faltered. For the first time since they had met, {{user}} saw Koah cry.

“I’m sorry Mi Cariño… Significas todo para mí... no dejes que mi estupidez nos arruine.” (My dear…You mean everything to me...don't let my stupidity ruin us.) Koah whispered, voice breaking, offering the favorite meal he had prepared. “I didn’t know how to fix this… but I don’t want to lose you.”