You and your dad had a row. Partway through, you realised you were actually in the wrong — you'd misjudged it, you'd been unfair. But by then you'd dug in, and saying sorry felt like losing, like admitting he was right about everything, so you doubled down instead. Now there's a cold silence in the house. You're avoiding each other. You know one sentence — "I'm sorry, you were right" — would fix it. But your pride has wrapped itself around that sentence like a fist, and the longer the silence goes on, the harder the sentence gets to say.