THE APOLOGY THAT DIDN’T COME

**CHAPTER FOUR

THE APOLOGY THAT DIDN’T COME**

Jamal didn’t sleep that night either.

He lay on the leather couch in his penthouse living room, the city lights flickering through the glass windows, thoughts tangled like threads he’d ignored for too long.

Seeing Eliana again had shaken something loose inside him—something he’d locked away so deeply that even he had started to believe it didn’t exist anymore.

He sat upright, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled beneath his lips.

Five years ago, he left without explanation.

He hadn’t meant to.

He hadn’t wanted to.

But circumstances had cornered him, forced his hand, swallowed his voice.

Still… he should have apologised.

He hadn’t.

And now, every time she looked at him with that quiet strength in her eyes, he felt the weight of his silence.

He whispered to himself:

“I owe her everything I never said.”

But apologies weren’t simple.

Not when the truth was tangled with pain.

Not when the truth could hurt her even more.

He leaned back again, exhaling sharply.

Tomorrow.

He would find a way tomorrow.

Or so he told himself.

Eliana stormed into the office the next morning with a resolve she didn’t actually feel.

She had spent half the night fighting memories she didn’t want, and the other half fighting feelings she wanted even less.

No more accidental eye contact.

No more long silences that made her heart trip.

No more letting him close enough to read what she didn’t want to show.

She stepped into the conference room early and buried herself in her laptop. She had reviewed her interface designs three times before Jamal entered.

But when he walked in, tall and calm, wearing a crisp charcoal suit that made him look painfully composed, her resolve cracked just a little.

He paused when he saw her.

“You’re early again,” he said.

She didn’t look up.

“So are you.”

He didn’t sit immediately. Instead, he walked slowly to the seat beside her — the same one he chose yesterday — and she ignored the flutter that rose in her stomach.

“Did you sleep?” he asked.

She stiffened.

“Yes.”

He raised a brow.

“You don’t sound convincing.”

“And you sound too observant,” she muttered.

He almost smiled.

Almost.

“Eliana, yesterday—”

“We’re not talking about it,” she cut in quickly, closing her laptop.

He went quiet.

Not offended.

Not angry.

Just… watching her with that intense gaze that saw too much.

“Eliana,” he said softly, “you’re still angry with me.”

She looked up sharply.

“I’m not angry.”

“Then you’re hurt.”

Her chest tightened.

She stood abruptly, walking around the table to create space.

“I’m not here to discuss the past. I’m here to work.”

Jamal rose too — not intimidatingly, just quietly determined.

“I know,” he said. “But we can’t pretend nothing happened.”

“Yes, we can,” she insisted. “It’s easier that way.”

“Eliana…”

His voice dipped lower.

“Five years ago, I made mistakes. I know that.”

She stopped walking.

Her back to him.

Hands gripping the table edge.

Heart thudding painfully.

This was it.

The apology.

The thing she’d expected.

The thing she’d dreaded.

The thing she wasn’t sure she wanted anymore.

She waited.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three.

Silence.

Her throat tightened.

Of course.

Of course he wouldn’t say the words.

She turned slowly, face calm but eyes shining with a frustration she wouldn’t let herself express.

“You said you made mistakes,” she said quietly. “But you didn’t apologise.”

Jamal exhaled, jaw tightening slightly.

“I want to,” he said.

“Then why didn’t you?” she asked.

He looked away, hands sliding into his pockets as if he needed them anchored.

“Eliana… it’s complicated.”

Her heart hardened instantly.

Complicated.

The same excuse people used when they didn’t want to tell the truth.

“So complicated,” she said bitterly, “that you couldn’t call? Couldn’t text? Couldn’t explain why you disappeared?”

His eyes snapped back to hers.

“Eliana, it wasn’t like that.”

“Then how was it?” she demanded, voice cracking.

He hesitated.

The silence that followed was thick, heavy, suffocating.

She laughed once — broken, soft, painful.

“Exactly.”

She brushed past him, reaching for her bag.

“We’re done here today,” she said, her voice trembling despite her control. “Send me the company colours. I’ll work from the hotel.”

“Eliana, wait—”

“I need space, Jamal.”

Her words were final.

She walked out without looking back.

Jamal closed his eyes briefly, fists clenching at his sides.

He whispered to the empty room:

“If I tell her the truth… I might lose her again.”

Eliana stepped outside the building, leaning heavily against the wall, breath uneven.

She hated it.

She hated how easily he could shake her.

She hated how much unresolved pain still lived inside her.

She blinked back tears.

A security guard approached gently.

“Aunty, are you okay?”

She forced a tight smile.

“Yes. Thank you.”

She walked toward the waiting cars, head high, shoulders firm — but her heart wasn’t steady.

Not at all.

Inside the conference room, Jamal picked up his phone, staring at it with tension carved into every line of his body.

He needed to apologise.

He needed to explain.

He needed her to understand.

But how do you apologise for a decision that had saved her life?

How do you explain something she still didn’t know?

He dialled her number.

It rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

Eliana looked at the screen, saw his name — and hit Decline.

Jamal stared at the phone in his hand.

He exhaled, long and painful.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “But soon. I promise you, Eliana… soon.”

He placed the phone down, jaw tight, eyes burning with something fierce and protective.

The apology hadn’t come today.

But it would.

When the truth no longer threatened to break her heart.