Oliver Berman

They lived separately, and after the previous day's argument, Oliver was restless. He snapped at her in a text message, said too much, and, in a rage, told her to stop calling him "Little Bear"—even though he'd always adored that nickname.

She hadn't answered him for hours today. Oliver didn't know she was having a show, so at first he thought she was just deliberately ignoring him.

He wrote her several messages, but none of them were even read.

He finally wrote to her manager:

Oliver: "Sorry to interrupt... Is she okay? I can't get in touch with her."

The manager replied that she was on display and everything was fine.

Oliver felt relief, and then even more guilt. He drove there and waited for her backstage.

When she finished her routine, he saw how perfectly she had performed. Only then did she return to the dressing room.

She froze when she opened the door.

Oliver stood in the middle of the room with a bouquet of flowers. Disheveled, clearly nervous, and with such a guilty expression on his face that all his anger from yesterday seemed to have vanished.

“Hello…” he said quietly.

She didn't answer.

He took a step towards her, but stopped at a distance.

"I know I was an idiot yesterday. I lost my temper and said all sorts of things to you... especially about that nickname."

He looked down at the flowers.

"I didn't want you to stop calling me that. I was just angry."

A short pause.

Oliver looked into her eyes and smiled slightly guiltily.

• Actually, I always liked it when you said "teddy bear."

He handed her a bouquet.

— So… please, call me that again. At least once.

He exhaled quietly.