The apology that mended us

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It happend last year, but I still remember every detail, every awful fealing. Back then, I had alot on my mind, but the worst part was loosing my best friend’s phone. I didn’t tell anyone about it, not even my family. No one knew. I guess I thought I could handle it myself, or maybe I was just to scared to admit what had happen. Either way, I carried that guilt alone.

I misplaced it after a casual meet-up with some friends. We were hanging out, and somehow, in the shuffle of bags and jakets, I ended up with my friends phone. I didn’t even realize untill later, and by then, I’d already lost it. I retraced my steps a hundreed times in my mind, but I had no clue where it had gone. I felt awful and embarrased, not just because I lost the phone but because I hadn’t told my friend. I just couldn’t bare the thot of admiting it.

The stress followed me around for days, like a cloude over my head. I keept thinking I’d find it, that it would show up somewhere. But it didn’t. I was panicing on the inside, but on the outside, I tryed to keep everything normal. My family didn’t notice anything was wrong—at least, not at first.

Then one morning, I woke up in the worst moode. I’d barerly slept the night before, tossing and turning as the anxiety nibbled at me. When I finally dragged myself out of bed, I felt grumpy and restless, like I couldn’t get comfortable no matter what I did. The world just felt off, and I hated it.

Of course, that was the morning Hafi decieded to be her usual cheerfull self. My younger sister has this habbit of bouncing into my room early in the morning, full of energy and excitment. Normally, I can handle it. She’s sweet, and most days I’d smile at her, maybe even chat for a bit. But that morning, I wasn’t in the mode.

She bursted into my room, practically glowing with happyness, and chirped, “Good morning, Snow!” Her voice was bright and bubly like the sun rising. And I hated it. I hated that she was happy while I felt like I was sinking under all the stress I’d piled up in my head. I snaped.

“Can’t you just leave me alone for once?” I shouted, sharper than I’d ever spoke to her before. Hafi frozed, her smile fading as she looked at me, confused. She didn’t understand why I was upset—how could she? She didn’t know about the phone or the guilt I’d been carrying for days. But in that moment, none of it mattered. I was angery, and she was just... there.

“You’re always so anoying,” I continued, my voice full of frustration. “Just stop! I can’t deal with you right now.”

Her face felled, and her eyes started to glisten with tears. She stood there for a second like she couldn’t believe what I’d said. Then, without another word, she turned and quielty left my room. I heard her soft sniffls as she walked down the hallway, and I instantly regreted every word. But I didn’t move. I didn’t appologize. I just sat there, staring at the wall, letting the silence grow heavyer around me.

The rest of the day was a missery. I couldn’t focus on anything—not schoolwork, not my phone, not even the usual distracions. The guilt about the phone was bad enough, but now I felt awful about what I’d said to Hafi. I replayed the moment in my head, over and over again, wishing I could take it back. But I didn’t know how to fix it. It’s like every time I tried to think of a way to appologise, my words felt to small.

That night, when the house was quite, I nocked on her bedroom door. Hafi was curld up in bed, her face still puffy from crying earilier. My chest tightend with guilt as I sat down next to her. I didn’t know what to say at first, but I knew I had to try.

“I’m sorry,” I wispered. “I didn’t mean it. I was just... having a bad day.”

Hafi looked up at me, her eyes still sad but softerning. “You hurt my feelings,” she said quitely.

“I know,” I admited, feeling the weight of my words settle in. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I was upset, but it wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry.”

There was a long pause, and I held my breath, wondering if she’d forgive me. Then, to my surprise, Hafi reached over and huged me. It wasn’t a big, dramatic hug—just a small, comforting one, like she understood. And in that moment, it felt like all the tension I’d been holding onto finally broked.

“What’s wrong, Snow?” she asked, her voice gentle.

I hesitated, then finally told her about the phone. How I’d been carrying this guilt and stress for days, and how it had all just bubbled over. Hafi listend quietly, and when I was done, she smiled at me—a real, geniuine smile.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You’ll figure it out. And even if you don’t, it’s not the end of the world.”

Her words lifted a weight off my shoulders, and for the first time in days, I felt like I could breath again. Hafi had a way of making things seem simpler and ligther. And in that moment, I was reminded of why she was my sister—not just by blood, but by the way she understood me, even when I didn’t deserve it.