Chapter Eight: The Apology
444 Words
It was raining—fitting, somehow.
Xander stood outside Zoe’s apartment building, soaked to the bone, his usually pristine suit clinging to him. He’d been standing there for ten minutes, working up the nerve.
He’d rehearsed his speech. Over and over.
But when the door opened and Ella appeared, all his practiced words evaporated.
She froze at the sight of him. Her eyes widened, then narrowed.
“What are you doing here?”
“I needed to see you.”
“You could’ve called.”
“I figured I owed you more than a phone call.”
Ella leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. She was in a sweatshirt and leggings, no makeup, her hair in a messy bun. And she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“I’ve been a coward,” Xander began quietly. “I used the contract as a shield. I told myself I didn’t want love, didn’t need it. But the truth is… I was afraid.”
Ella blinked, stunned by the sudden honesty.
“I’ve lived most of my life thinking vulnerability is weakness,” he continued. “My father taught me that. The board reinforced it. But you—you showed me something different.”
She didn’t say anything, but her grip on the door tightened.
“I should have told you everything from the start. Not just about the contract, but about what you’ve come to mean to me. Because you do, Ella. You matter more than anything else.”
He stepped forward, heart pounding.
“I miss you. I miss your laughter, your fire, your presence. I miss us, even if we never officially had one.”
Still, she said nothing.
So he gave her the last truth he had left.
“I love you.”
Her breath hitched.
“I don’t know when it happened,” he said. “Maybe it was when you stood by my side at the gala. Maybe it was when you fell asleep on my shoulder. Maybe it was always there, and I was just too blind to see it.”
Rain dripped from his lashes. He didn’t care.
“I love you, Ella. Not because you saved my company. Not because you made the perfect wife in public. I love you. All of you.”
A long silence stretched between them.
Then, finally, Ella spoke. Soft, raw.
“Do you mean it?”
He stepped even closer, eyes locked with hers.
“I’ve never meant anything more.”
She stared at him—like she was reading his soul.
Then, slowly, she opened the door wider.
And without another word, she stepped into his arms.
- Writer
