Chapter 369: Apology
Kael’s POV
The smell of take-out hit me first, spices, fried oil, sweet sauce and then the sound of her laugh. Light. Familiar. The kind of laugh Aria only gave to one person.
When I stepped into the hall, the sunlight from the kitchen window flashed against a head of glossy hair, and I froze. Sarah.
The name thudded in my skull like a pulse. She turned at the same time, all bright eyes and an almost innocent smile, but my stomach coiled hard enough to ache.
For a second, nobody spoke. Aria’s face lit up when she saw me, that soft, sleepy glow she always carried after waking, but when she realized where my eyes were fixed, she hesitated.
"Oh—uh—Kael," she stammered, wiping her hands on her shorts. "This is... well, you already know her. Sarah. My... my best friend."
I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. I could feel my jaw tighten until it hurt.
Aria went on, desperate to fill the air. "Sarah, this is... well... my... boyfriend." Her voice caught, embarrassed but proud. "Kael."
Sarah’s mouth curved. "Oh, I know who he is." She stepped closer, hand outstretched, her voice soft and polite in the way that made my skin crawl. "CEO of our dear company. I’ve been dying to meet you properly."
I didn’t take her hand. I didn’t even look at it. My gaze slid straight past her, landing on Aria instead, the only steady thing in the room. "Did you eat yet?" I asked her quietly, like we were the only two people there.
Sarah’s arm lowered, the smile freezing for a heartbeat before she laughed it off. Aria, still oblivious to what was crawling beneath the surface, looked between us in mild panic. "Uh—we were just about to start. You could join us! Sarah brought a whole feast and a new show to watch—"
"I can’t," I cut in, too sharply. I forced my tone lower, smoother. "I have work to catch up on."
Aria blinked, confusion flickering across her face. "Now?"
Sarah tilted her head, her voice playful. "Even the mighty CEO needs a break sometimes. Sit with us, Mr. Roman."
The way she said my name made every muscle in my body tense. I turned away before she could see my face, before the coldness in me could show too clearly. "Enjoy your afternoon," I said, already walking toward the bedroom.
Behind me, Aria called softly, "Kael, wait."
I stopped at the door, but didn’t turn around. "It’s nothing," I said. "Just something urgent from work. I’ll be back later."
She didn’t answer immediately. I could feel her eyes on me, confused, searching, hurt even but I couldn’t give her the truth. I couldn’t open that door, not now, not when she looked so happy.
So I kept walking.
Inside the bedroom, I grabbed my shirt, my keys, anything to keep my hands from shaking. From the kitchen came the muffled sound of Aria’s laugh again, lighter now, and Sarah’s voice underneath it, bright, familiar, threaded with something only I could hear.
I left before Aria could ask again.
Her voice followed me down the hall... soft, uncertain... and I hated how much it sounded like a question I didn’t know how to answer.
The drive to the my office was a blur. I wasn’t thinking, just moving, eyes fixed on the road while the city peeled open around me. By the time I stepped into the lobby, the hum of engines and morning chatter had dissolved into that sterile, familiar silence of work.
It should have grounded me. It didn’t.
I went straight to my office, shutting the door a little too hard, pulling at the knot in my tie until the fabric creased. My reflection in the glass wall looked calm, the perfect executive, but my pulse hadn’t slowed since the moment I saw Sarah’s face.
I asked for coffee, didn’t drink it. Answered two calls I didn’t hear. Tried to read a report that refused to stay in focus.
Then a soft knock broke the monotony.
"Come in," I said without looking up.
The door opened halfway. "Kael?"
I froze. Her voice was small, tentative. Erin.
I looked up, and there she was, standing at the threshold like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to be there. Her hair was tied back messily, dark circles under her eyes, but her gaze was steady.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, keeping my tone even, my pen still moving.
"Your secretary wasn’t at her desk and.." she trailed off before speaking again.
"I needed to see you," she said. "You’ve been avoiding me."
"That should tell you something."
She stepped further in anyway, shutting the door behind her. "I know you’re angry about that night. I am too. But, Kael..." She hesitated, swallowing hard. "Please. Just five minutes. Then I’ll go."
I should’ve said no. I almost did. But there was something in her face... the same mixture of defiance and fragility Ivan used to have when he wanted me to listen... that made my throat tighten.
I sighed, gesturing to the chair across from my desk. "Five minutes."
She sat, twisting her fingers together. For a long time neither of us spoke. The air felt heavy, the way it always did when the past forced its way into the room.
Finally, she said, "I’m not here to talk about what happened between us. I just... I miss him. And I hate that every time I remember that night, what I did to you, it feels like I’m losing him all over again."
My chest tightened. I set the pen down, leaning back. "Erin—"
"No, let me finish," she whispered. "You were his best friend. You were his only family. And after he died, I prayed and prayed for a chance to meet you. Then that night... I don’t even know what I was thinking. I just... wanted something of him back, even if it was through you."
The silence that followed was deafening. I rubbed a hand over my face, the weight of her words cutting deeper than I expected.
She looked up, eyes shining. "I’m not asking you to forgive me. I just don’t want you to keep pretending I don’t exist."
I exhaled slowly, the tension easing by an inch. "I’m not pretending," I said finally. "I’m just... trying to keep everything from falling apart."
For a while we just sat there, the air between us heavy but not hostile anymore. Erin’s fingers played with the edge of her sleeve, worrying at a loose thread until she finally sighed.
"I really just wanted to see you before..." she said, voice small. "I move back home. To the countryside."
That snapped my focus back to her. "Right. I heard."
She nodded, staring at her hands. "Yeah. My parents... they need help, and... I think it’s time."
I studied her face. "Is this because of him?"
Her throat tightened. "I guess it is. He was the reason I came here in the first place... the one who made me believe I could handle the city, that I could be someone more than the quiet girl from a small town. Now he’s gone, and I don’t even recognize what’s left of me." She blinked rapidly, trying to smile but failing. "It’s like I’m being punished for ever thinking I deserved something good."
A tear slipped down before she could stop it.
I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees. "You don’t throw your future away because someone hurt you," I said quietly. "He doesn’t get to decide who you become."
She gave a brittle laugh. "You sound sure."
"I’m not," I admitted. "But it’s still true."
Her eyes lifted to mine, searching for the part of me that believed it.
And the truth was, I wasn’t sure if I did.
Because somewhere inside, every word I spoke to her rang back toward me like an accusation: You don’t deserve to be happy either.
Maybe that’s why I couldn’t stop talking... to convince her, I’d have to at least try convincing myself.
"Erin," I said, "you’ve worked too hard to let one man erase it. The best thing you can do now is be better. For yourself, not for him."
She rubbed at her eyes. "Even if I stayed... who would I have? I don’t really have anyone here anymore."
"You have me," I said, before thinking. "If you need something, if you get stuck, call. I’ll make time."
Her head shook immediately. "You shouldn’t have to take care of me. You’ve got too much going on."
I gave a faint, tired smile. "You can do whatever you want, Erin. Leave, stay, build something new. But don’t shut yourself off from people who actually care."
The fight drained from her shoulders. She exhaled shakily and nodded. "Okay," she whispered. "Thank you."
Then, softer: "You’re really kind, Kael. You always act like you’re not, but you are. And I hope you’ll get all the happiness you deserve someday."
The words landed somewhere deep, between doubt and a strange, fragile warmth. Half of me didn’t believe her; the other half wanted to.
"Go home, Erin," I said, standing and opening the door. "I’ll contact you."
She hesitated, then smiled through the last of her tears. "Please do."
When the door closed behind her, I leaned back against it and let the quiet settle in. The office felt too big again, and my own voice echoed in my head... every reassurance I’d given her, every truth I couldn’t yet make peace with myself.