Atonement

RYAN

“Throw the ball back!” A kid whispered urgently to another, who, by the looks of it, was the oldest. But instead of following the request, the older one darted away, clutching the ball tightly. The younger child gave chase, their laughter echoing across the park.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at their antics. It was endearing, a moment of pure innocence that made me smile despite myself.

But, as cute as it was, I quickly dismissed the distraction. I glanced at my wristwatch—Ten minutes past the agreed time with Amelia.

Right. Amelia.

I had texted her last night after the whole mess with Violet was sorted out, letting her know we needed to meet today at the park near the school. It wasn’t exactly a place I wanted to be, but the conversation had to happen, no matter how uncomfortable it would be.

I had almost given up on her showing up when, finally, I saw her walking toward me from the entrance of the park. Her posture was stiff, her eyes scanning the area before they landed on me.

I raised a hand in a wave, and she walked over, her heels clicking her face an unreadable mask. When she reached where I was, she didn’t sit down right away. Instead, she stood there, her arms crossed, looking at me like she was deciding whether this was even worth her time.

“Ryan,” she said finally. “You actually showed up. I wasn’t sure if you’d have the guts.”

“Amelia,” I began, my voice steady, though my insides were anything but. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Let’s skip the pleasantries,” she said coldly, finally sitting down. “What do you want?”

The accusation in her tone hit me like a punch to the gut, but I kept my composure. I deserved that—and worse. “I want to talk. About everything. About… us. About what happened.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought she might get up and leave. But then she leaned back in her chair, arms still crossed. “Fine. Talk.”

The air between us was suffocating, the weight of years of anger and hurt pressing down on both of us. But I had to do this. Not just for me—but for Violet, for us. I couldn’t carry this shadow around anymore.

“I know,” I began, taking a deep breath, trying to steady my words. “No amount of words or apologies will undo what I did.”

It felt strange, the words foreign in my mouth. Ryan Jenkins apologizing? The only person I’d ever done it to was Violet. But I had to—this wasn’t about me anymore. This was about fixing things, about moving forward. For Violet.

“I didn’t know... I didn’t know you were pregnant,” I said, my voice faltering slightly. “When you came to me that day, I thought it was just another one of those games, another way of girls trying to keep me around.”

She scoffed bitterly, her lips curling in disgust. “You were charming, you know? But you honestly think I’d want to tie you down with a pregnancy?” Her words cut like a knife, and I could hear the venom in her voice, the years of resentment she'd been holding back.

“I didn’t know, okay? I fucking didn’t know,” I shot back, my frustration rising. “And that’s why I’m here now—trying to make things right.”

Her eyes flashed with something darker, and she leaned forward, her voice sharp. “Okay, then that’s it? You’re sorry, and I’m supposed to forget about everything you put me through? The pain you caused me?”

Her words stung, but I didn’t flinch. I wanted to say something—something to push the blame back. To tell her that we both played a part in this, that it wasn’t just me. 

But I swallowed those words. They wouldn’t help. Not now. Not when I was trying to clean up this mess, even if I knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

“I know I can’t fix everything with a few words,” I said, my voice quieter now. “But I’m here, Amelia. I’m trying. And I know that’s not enough, but it’s all I can offer. I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m asking for closure—for us to put this behind us.”

She looked at me for a long time, her expression unreadable. Then, finally, she sighed, a deep, resigned sound. “Closure? You think this is about closure? You think I’ve been carrying this all these years because I needed some damn closure?”

I watched her closely, her face still a mask of indifference. 

"Amelia," I said again, this time with more force. "I'm sorry. I know I can't change what happened, but I need you to understand that I’m trying to make it right.  Can you at least let me—"

She cut me off, her voice biting. "Let you? Let you do what, Ryan? You really think that showing up here after all this time and throwing out a few apologies is going to fix anything?" She leaned forward, her gaze sharp, searching my face for some sign that I actually understood what I’d done. "You don’t get it. You don’t get how deep this runs for me."

Her words hit like a hammer to my chest, but I held my ground. I had to. 

"I get that I fucked up. I know I fucked up. But I can't keep sitting here apologizing for something that, in the end, wasn’t entirely my fault. Yeah, I abandoned you, and I’m sorry for that. But we were both reckless. We were both drunk, both stupid. And I’m not the only one who threw themselves into this, Amelia. You wanted it, too."

Her eyes flashed with something I couldn’t quite place—hurt, maybe?—but she didn’t respond right away. I was getting frustrated.

"Stop acting like it was all me," I continued, my voice rising, the frustration bubbling to the surface. "You wanted it. You threw yourself at me. We both made that decision. It wasn’t just me, so stop acting like it was some kind of forced thing, alright?"

Amelia’s jaw tightened, and I could see the walls going up again, but I wasn’t finished. Not yet. 

"I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for what I did to you. For abandoning you, for making you go through it alone, for every single goddamn thing that’s caused you pain." I let out a long breath, trying to calm myself, but the words came out sharper than I intended. "I don’t care if you forgive me. I don’t even expect you to. But what I care about—what I care about more than anything—is Violet."

Her brows furrowed, the first sign of real emotion breaking through the walls she’d built around herself. 

“If you have any decency left in you, you’ll keep your distance from her. You’ve had your turn at my expense, and I’m not going to let you drag Violet into your bullshit. I don’t care if you hate me. I don’t care what you think of me, but I will not let you hurt her. Not after everything."

She flinched at my words, but she didn’t say anything, just stared at me, her lips pressed tight together. I could see the bitterness still lingering in her eyes. I could feel it—she wasn’t letting it go. She was holding onto this pain, maybe because it was all she had left of me.

"Just promise me," I said, my voice softer but still firm, "you won’t drag Violet into this. Leave her out of whatever grudge you’re holding against me."

Finally,she spoke. “I never meant for things to go this far, Ryan. I didn’t mean to involve Violet. But I couldn’t just walk away from it.” She glanced down at the ground, biting her lip. “You left me, Ryan. Without a second thought. You don't get to come in here, demanding answers when you were the one who walked away from everything I had to deal with.”

“I know what I did,” I said, the words thick in my throat. "I’ve never claimed to be a saint. I was an asshole. But what’s done is done. And Violet... She's my world now. If you think for one second that I’ll let you drag her into the past, then you're wrong. You're not going to get in the way of this, Amelia. Not again.”

“I don’t want to be a part of your world anymore, Ryan,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “But I still need you to understand what you did. Because... I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you.”

I watched her for a long time, weighing the words in my mind, knowing this was never going to be easy. No matter how much I wanted to move forward, to let the past die with her apology or whatever half-hearted understanding we could come to, there was still that undercurrent of bitterness between us.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and it wasn’t just an apology—it was for everything. For her, for the baby, for the mess I had made of our lives. 

Her eyes flickered, and for a moment, I thought I saw something break behind them. But she quickly hid it away, turning her face into something colder, more distant.

“Violet is too good,” she said, her voice softef now. “Just don’t hurt her.”

Without another glance, she stood up and walked away, her figure retreating into the distance.

For a moment, I stood frozen, the weight of her words settling in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, it was a start—a beginning to undo the mess I’d made. Not for me, but for Violet.