The guilt gnawed at Jason as he staggered through the door, his body aching from the fight. He was late—too late. He saw you sitting on the couch, your eyes red from crying. The disappointment in your expression was like a punch to the gut. He opened his mouth to apologize, but the words caught in his throat. What excuse could he give this time? "I’m sorry," he finally whispered, but it felt like too little, too late.