Sweet Hatred Chapter 369: Apology

Kael’s POV

The sll of take-out hit 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 na thudded in my skull like a pulse. She turned at the sa ti, 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 , that soft, sleepy glow she always carried after waking, but when she realized where my eyes were fixed, she hesitated.

"Oh—uh—Kael," she stamred, 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 et 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 sotis. Sit with us, Mr. Roman."

The way she said my na made every muscle in my body tense. I turned away before she could see my face, before the coldness in could show too clearly. "Enjoy your afternoon," I said, already walking toward the bedroom.

Behind , Aria called softly, "Kael, wait."

I stopped at the door, but didn’t turn around. "It’s nothing," I said. "Just sothing urgent from work. I’ll be back later."

She didn’t answer imdiately. I could feel her eyes on , 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 ca the muffled sound of Aria’s laugh again, lighter now, and Sarah’s voice underneath it, bright, familiar, threaded with sothing only I could hear.

I left before Aria could ask again.

Her voice followed 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 . By the ti 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 . 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 mont 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.

"Co 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 ssily, 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 ."

"That should tell you sothing."

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 sothing in her face... the sa mixture of defiance and fragility Ivan used to have when he wanted 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 ti 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 ti I rember 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 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 et you. Then that night... I don’t even know what I was thinking. I just... wanted sothing 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 . 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 ho. 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 ti."

I studied her face. "Is this because of him?"

Her throat tightened. "I guess it is. He was the reason I ca here in the first place... the one who made believe I could handle the city, that I could be soone more than the quiet girl from a small town. Now he’s gone, and I don’t even recognize what’s left of ." She blinked rapidly, trying to smile but failing. "It’s like I’m being punished for ever thinking I deserved sothing 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 soone hurt you," I said quietly. "He doesn’t get to decide who you beco."

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 that believed it.

And the truth was, I wasn’t sure if I did.

Because sowhere inside, every word I spoke to her rang back toward 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 ," I said, before thinking. "If you need sothing, if you get stuck, call. I’ll make ti."

Her head shook imdiately. "You shouldn’t have to take care of . You’ve got too much going on."

I gave a faint, tired smile. "You can do whatever you want, Erin. Leave, stay, build sothing 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 soday."

The words landed sowhere deep, between doubt and a strange, fragile warmth. Half of didn’t believe her; the other half wanted to.

"Go ho, 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.