I keep coming back to the look on your face. I'd give a lot to take that moment back — not to erase it, but to answer it the way you deserved.

You didn't do anything to earn the version of me you got that day. You were patient with me long before I gave you a reason to be, and I took that for granted.

I'm not writing this to be let off the hook. I'm writing it because you're worth the effort of getting this right, and because “sorry” said out loud always comes out smaller than it feels in my chest.

I'll do better — not as a promise to end this conversation, but as something you can actually hold me to.