He had fucked up.
Not cataclysmically, not world endingly, the sun would rise in the morning, businesses would open, the vast majority of the people in the world would get up and go about their lives unchanged.
And yet, he had fucked up.
He had explanations, justifications, he could, with hindsight, pinpoint the hows and whys of how it had occurred.
But it didn’t change the fact that he’d fucked up.
He apologized, hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe, he would be forgiven.
He was, although given the way the relationship went after that, he kinda wished he wasn’t…