I once joked that I was starting to fear the silent treatment, that one day it might actually work on me.

Today it did.

It wasn’t silence used as a weapon. It was you being economical with your words because I disappointed you. And somehow that was worse.

The guilt was immediate. Heavy. Deserved. I was wrong, and I felt it deeply. But the punishment wasn’t just the guilt. It was the distance.

I can endure feeling sorry. I can endure admitting I was wrong. What I can’t endure easily is the absence of your playful, alive, soft version. The version that laughs freely. The one that feels light.

When you became serious and direct, it scared me. Not because you were harsh, but because I realized I had caused that shift. I had dimmed something bright.

And that terrifies me. I’m sorry that sometimes I change without noticing. I’m sorry for the moments where I become a version of myself that disappoints you. I’m sorry that you had to endure me all these three years without me realizing it how hard it was fully.

Because now I understand something clearly: Seeing a side of someone you love that you struggle to endure even briefly, is unbearable.

Please forgive me for those moments.