An Apology
SARAH
I stood there, frozen, staring, and trying to convince myself that he was really here. I had no idea what he was doing here, in this house, in this room. In the one place I never thought, never expected to see him.
“Sarah,” he said.
He stood slowly, hands raised in front of him in a calming gesture, like he was dealing with a wild animal. Like he was afraid of what I might do.
And maybe he was right to be. Because I didn’t know either. I didn’t know how to feel, how to act, how to breathe with him standing there.
“Don’t scream,” he added carefully. His voice was soft, cautious, almost like someone trying not to startle a wild animal.
I opened my mouth to speak… but closed it again.
My mind raced, my body tense as the reality settled into place. He was actually here. Right in front of me. In my bedroom.
And when my brain and body finally caught up to each other, when they came to the reluctant conclusion that this wasn’t a dream, I finally asked the one question that had burned from the second I saw him:
“What are you doing here?”
He swallowed, and it seemed like he… he had sighed a little in relief from my reaction. I guess he expected more from me. But seeing that reaction from him, made me think he was a danger to me.
Which made me feel like I might be a danger to him. Because this was not his territory.
I might not know much, but I know my brothers can’t just walk into Cincinnati territory. And I know a Cincinnati cannot walk into a Sullivan territory, and not just a territory, in the house, but inside my bedroom.
“Cullen,” I said again, correcting myself this time. “What are you doing here? Are you out of your mind?” I whispered, shouted at him.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Don’t worry. Everything is good.”
“You’re fine?” I couldn’t help myself. I laughed.
But then I got another idea. I narrowed my eyes. “Does my dad know you’re here?” Maybe he did. Maybe he allowed him here. There was no way Cullen could be in my bedroom without my father’s knowledge.
“Is he the one who told you to come here?” I asked, the panic returning. “Why?”
Cullen smiled softly and sat back on the bed. “No,” he said. “Your father has no idea that I’m here.”
Now I really had to ask him.
“What do you mean?” I said, my voice quieter now.
He looked at me, and his voice dropped.
“I went through a lot to get here, Sarah. I came here because...”
“Because of what?” I asked, stepping a little closer, my arms folded across my chest, like they could somehow protect me from whatever he was about to say.
Cullen looked at me. Really looked at me. And for a second, I forgot everything, forgot that we weren’t married anymore, forgot that we hadn’t even truly started before everything broke. His jaw clenched slightly, like he was trying to stop something from spilling out. And then he said it.
"It's because I wanted to apologise to you, Sarah. I wanted to apologise.... I am sorry," he said, standing up again and coming towards me, taking my hands.
I pulled my hands away from him.
"An apology is not going to do anything. Because what's done is done. And you didn't really do anything to me. You never hurt me. You never raised your voice. You never raised your hand..." I began.
"But I did," he says, swallowing. "I remember all those words I told you, how I threatened you. I am so freaking sorry," he says, and I can almost see the pain in his face.
But that doesn't erase all the things I had to go through in our marriage. It doesn't erase anything.
"I don't know," I say, shaking my head. "Maybe it's too soon," I say, about to turn away from him.
He puts his hand on my arm again. "Please," he says, getting on his knees, taking me off guard.
"Cullen, what are you doing?" I say, trying to pull him up.
"I am serious about this. I am so sorry. I am sorry for everything. I'm sorry for being a bad husband. I'm sorry for not cherishing you as the wife that you deserved to be. I am sorry that I made you doubt yourself. I am sorry that I made you hate yourself so much that you thought that there was nothing else for you in this life. That you thought you would leave us.... leave me. Because I need you, Sarah, I need you. And I am so, so sorry.
"I take all the blame for our marriage falling apart. I take all the blame."
"Because you deserve it," I say. And I mean every word.
"I know," he says, shaking his head. "I know," he says, nodding. "I know it is all my fault. And I am so fucking sorry.... Because I can’t let you go.”
I blinked.
“What?” I said, my voice almost inaudible.
“I can't let you go, Sarah,” he repeated. “I know I messed everything up. I know I was cold and distant, and I pushed you away. I didn’t even try to understand you. And then, when I finally saw you—really saw you...it was too late. Everyone had already decided for us. They signed papers, they shook hands, they ended it like we were just… business.”
His voice cracked, and he looked away for a second. Then back at me.
“But it wasn’t business to me. Not anymore. It wasn’t just a deal. You weren’t just a pawn in some family arrangement. Not to me.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say.
“I’ve been trying to get here for weeks. Your family… they’ve locked everything down. They made sure I couldn’t find you, couldn’t talk to you. Your dad… he thinks he’s protecting you, and maybe he is. Maybe I don’t deserve to see you. But I had to try. I had to come. Because I can’t sleep. I can’t think. I can't breathe knowing you're somewhere probably thinking I didn’t care.”
I felt my throat tighten.
“Cullen…” I whispered.
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