“Can you help me reach this?” Your boyfriend smiled, stretching tall above you to reach what you needed from the cabinet. Thanking him, you turned around to set the box of dishes on the countertop. You began to walk across the kitchen just as he turned around to slam the cupboard, his hand making solid contact with the side of your face. You staggered back, wincing through tears.

“Ouch!” you yelled, feeling the pressure of the back of his hand against your cheek. Already you knew the impact would leave a bruise as the tears pricked uncomfortably at the corner of your eyes. He turned to look at you, his face marked drastically with worry.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” You sniffed, holding your aching jaw gingerly in your hand. He took your face in his hands, touching it and inspecting frantically for any signs of injury. “Please don’t be mad!” You sighed, shaking your head slowly. Words hadn’t yet formed in your mind, the pain of falling still your dominant concern.

“Why did you hit me?!” you cried. He looked heartbroken, still panicking about the reddened skin on your cheek.

“It was an accident, I swear! I’m so sorry!” You understood his mistake, but maintained to some extent a malicious nerve that inclined you to fake anger.

“I know, I just can’t believe you did that!” Storming off dramatically, you threw yourself on the couch with a frown. A few moments passed before he came shuffling into the living room, his eyes sorrowful like a hurt puppy. In his arms he held a soft pillow, some tea, and an ice pack. He set up everything comfortably for you, biting his lip when you didn’t acknowledge the gestures.

Hopeful for your forgiveness, he left the room again, returning fairly quickly with some flowers he picked from the yard and a handwritten note folded next to them. “I’m sorry :( ” it read, small hearts scribbled in the borders. You sighed, leaving the note rejected on the glass coffee table.

Hesitantly he walked behind you, lifting his hands to your shoulders and massaging them slowly. You held in a contented sigh, your arms still crossed and your brow furrowed. He sat next to you, staring with pleading eyes and nudging the mug of warm tea closer to where you sat. You expended great effort in trying to stifle your laughter, to hide the sweet smile fighting for a position on your lips. He raised his fingertips to your cheek, his eyes glassy when you turned to look at them.

“Are you…crying?” you asked, the surprise unconcealed in your wavering voice. He sighed, trying to blink the moisture from his eyes.

“I left a bruise.” You turned to face the mirror hanging behind the couch. Light yellow tinged your cheek in a small circle, hardly noticeable if you were to cover it thinly with makeup.

As much as you had enjoyed teasing him and his gentle urges for you to forgive him, his exposed tears divulged how guilty the accident had really made him feel. You reached forward quickly, placing a warm palm on his damp cheek.

“I’m not really mad. I was teasing. I didn’t know it bothered you this much. Really, it’s okay! It’s my fault for not paying attention anyway.” He shook his head, his fingers still tracing the mark regretfully.

“It’s not okay! I hurt you!” You laughed, grabbing his fingers and holding them tightly.

“Hardly. It doesn’t hurt anymore. You can barely tell I even got hurt. It’s not like you did it on purpose.” He looked at you again with widened eyes.

“You’re sure it doesn’t hurt?” Nodding, you snuggled closely to his chest, your arms tight around his waist.

“Positive.”