The silence stretched, but he didn't rush through it.
"When I saw you at the restaurant," he said, quieter now, "I realised I've never really apologised to you, not without hiding behind explanations or excuses." He paused, then let it land. "So I'm sorry. For what I said. For how I handled everything. For all the things I didn't say when they mattered most."
My fingers tightened slightly against the door.
"I kept things in my head instead of saying them out loud," he went on. "About us. About... intimacy. About what I was feeling, and then it came out at the worst moment and in the worst place. It is all my fault."
He exhaled, looking down briefly before meeting my eyes again.
"There was never anything wrong with you," he said. "I need you to understand that. I was always attracted to you. Always. That was never the problem. It was me," he said, his voice quieter now, "My own insecurities. Things I kept buried instead of facing them. I let them sit there until they started shaping everything between us, and instead of being honest, I let it fester."
He shook his head, the movement restrained but heavy with it.
"You weren't the problem. Not once."
The words lingered.
"I miss you," he said, more softly. "I miss how it felt before I ruined everything."
His voice wavered then, just slightly.
"I love you, April" he said, and this time it didn't feel rushed or forced. "I think I always did. I just didn't know how to love you properly but I will learn."
The silence that followed felt heavier than anything he had said, and I couldn't speak through it. Inside, the words pressed hard against my chest, a need to tell him it was too late, that the one person I had trusted after so many years had hurt me in ways I hadn't known how to prepare for.
He nodded slowly.
"I just needed you to know, I'll wait, however long it takes. Just... give me one last chance."
A tear slipped free before he could stop it, and he brushed it away quickly.
"I'll wait," he went on, steadier now, but softer. "As long as you need. Heal, live... even meet other people, if that's what you need. I'll still be here. Holding on to the hope that one day you might forgive me... that you might see me again." He swallowed. "I just— I'm sorry I didn't know how to love you the way you deserved."
For a moment, he hesitated, then reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded page, worn at the edges.
"I kept this," he said, holding it out. "You wrote it. You probably don't remember. I have the others too... I thought maybe this one might remind you how good we were, before I ruined it."
I took it slowly and unfolded it. The handwriting was mine. It was a one of the love notes I used to write for him when my voice failed me.
''By the way, he's a good guy, I can see that. But I can be better for you. I'm working on it, I promise.'' He added.
After a moment, he stepped back, then turned and walked off the porch. I watched him go until he disappeared down the path, the quiet returning slowly, settling into the space he left behind.
I closed the door. I remained where I was for a moment, my hand still resting against the door, letting the solid surface anchor me while everything inside slowly rearranged itself.
I let the note slip from my fingers and forced myself to breathe, searching for something quieter than his words. But instead of the cabin, my mind caught on the steady tapping of Bramwell's fingers against the table.
I held onto that sound. In... out. Tap. Pause. Tap again. Slowly, my breathing began to match it, settling into that imagined rhythm until my chest loosened and the panic softened into something I could manage.
Then, I moved slowly toward the small table by the window. The stone Bramwell had given me was still there, exactly where I had left it. I picked it up, turning it gently between my fingers,
After a moment, I reached for my phone. I just typed.
want to take a walk with me tomorrow morning?
The reply came almost instantly, like he had been holding his phone already.
Always.
