You said something cruel, and I held a grudge for days. We walked around each other, silent and stiff. Then, last night, you knocked on my door. “I’m sorry,” you said, voice raw. I wanted to stay angry, but seeing you hurt? It hurt more. I hugged you, and we cried. Forgiveness isn’t forgetting—it’s choosing to let go, because the person matters more than the pain.
You said something cruel, and I held a grudge for days. We walked around each other, silent and stiff. Then, last night, you knocked on my door. “I’m sorry,” you said, voice raw. I wanted to stay angry, but seeing you hurt? It hurt more. I hugged you, and we cried. Forgiveness isn’t forgetting—it’s choosing to let go, because the person matters more than the pain.