I don't want tonight's argument to be the last thing between us; I'm sorry.

I know I raised my tone tonight; I'm sorry for making you defensive.

I'm sorry I walked away instead of staying to calm down with you.

I feel awful and small for the way I left things after our fight.

I'm sorry I joked when you were serious; I see now that hurt you.

I know I kept repeating myself tonight; I'm sorry I wouldn't hear you.

That slammed cupboard door keeps replaying; I'm sorry I let anger do that.

I feel ashamed of how I handled the conversation and want to change.

I know saying sorry doesn't erase tonight, but I'm starting with that.

My chest is tight after tonight; I'm sorry I let it spill onto you.

I keep thinking about the crumb you pointed out and how petty I acted.

I noticed your keys on the counter and realised I missed your laugh already.

I'm sorry I blamed you for my bad day; you didn't deserve that.

I'm still here, and I'm sorry I made you feel alone in the argument.

I know I interrupted you tonight; I'm sorry and I want to listen.

Your phone face-down on the table after you left made me feel awful.

I want to fix this — starting with apologising for raising my voice.

I can't stop replaying your last words and wishing I'd answered differently.

That cracked plate on the floor made me realise I hate fighting with you.

I'm sorry I snapped; I care about you more than my stubbornness did.

I still want to hold your cold mug from tonight and say I'm sorry.

I keep replaying your whispered question from the sofa and it makes me restless.

Your laugh stuck in my ear is a slow burn I can't shake off.

I want the low, deliberate way you say my nickname when no one's near.

Your scent on the pillow is a low, persistent wanting I didn't invite.

My day narrows down to the moment I can lean into you again.

The memory of your scarf left on my chair has become my current obsession.

I keep imagining your laugh right behind me and it tightens everything.

My mind keeps going back to the scratch on your knuckle from last week.

That chipped mug you use is the image I scroll to between meetings.

Promise to be mildly repentant and I'll show you my wonderfully unrepentant side.

I kept the receipt for today's fight — exchange it for an hour of teasing.

Your pout is unfair; bring it here so I can examine it closely.

Drop the righteous speech and pick up your shoes; I have plans for you.

Return the pen you borrowed and I'll return the favour with something cheeky.

I will accept manual apologies tonight; no digital ones, bring your hands.

You owe me silence and a secret smile; deliver both at the door.

Your sulk looks silly from here — practice your face-to-face remorse.

Stop being dramatic across town; come here and demonstrate your apology in person.

I've scheduled a make-up interrogation and the only evidence needed is your grin.