Apology Quotes

At our wedding, my husband, Justin Garner, pushes me—three months pregnant—toward our enemies as an apology in order to save his foster sister, Clara Garner. "This is my sincerity. You can do whatever you want with her." I don't cry or make a scene. I quietly follow the enemies away. That's because in my previous life, I had traded all my wealth for freedom and returned to Justin's side. In the end, I was forced to drink drugs and lost my unborn baby, suffering for three days and nights. "Justin, those 'enemies' were people you hired to act, and Maxine didn't even lose her innocence. Why did you have to get rid of the baby?" Clara asks. Justin coldly laughs. "If you're acting, you have to make it look real." I died full of hatred. When I wake up again, I choose to let those people take me away. Three years later, when I arrive at a banquet on the arms of my new lover, Justin goes mad, grabbing me and demanding, "Maxine Preston, where is our child?"

In the seventh year of my marriage to Simon Heath, I finally walk away from him after his 32nd mistress shows up at my door. I join a classified government program and disappear from his world. Now he's falling apart and calling me non-stop. "Lily, I was wrong. Please come back." In the past, a single word of apology from him would have been enough to make me stay. But not this time. This time, he's bound to be disappointed.

Just for brushing against the hem of Eva Lawson, the heiress’s custom couture gown, Lucy Quinn's mother had her limbs broken, then thrown into the sea to die. The day Lucy dragged the arrogant heiress to court she thought that justice might finally be served. Eva was declared not guilty. Why? Because the defense attorney representing her was none other than Wyatt Grant, founder of the most untouchable law firm in River City, and Lucy Quinn’s husband. When the trial ended, the elegant and aloof man stepped down from the defense table and placed an apology letter in front of Lucy. "Lulu, sign it. You don’t want to be sued for defamation and end up in prison, do you?" His tone was calm and coaxing, but behind the lenses of his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze was cold as ice. Lucy, tears stubbornly clinging to her eyes, looked up at him and said with a trembling voice, "Why, Wyatt, Why?"

The wolf inside me howls when the bond snaps into place. I’ve found my second-chance mate. Just a few days ago, the man I’ve loved my whole life gave me to our former enemy in exchange for his sister’s hand in marriage. After I risked my own life to save his, my first mate Alpha Raul traded me like a thing. My heart and mind are in chaos, and I feel like I’m losing my grip on reality. The only thing I’m absolutely certain of is that I want more of the tenderness this stranger is offering me, to lose myself in him. His eyes widen, nostrils flaring, and I know he can smell my interest. I’m straddling his waist, and our bodies are pressed together. “You are mine,” he says quietly, and runs his thumb across my lower lip. My breathing is erratic, and I can feel the heat coiling in me, pulsing through me in delectable waves. This is crazy. I don’t even know his name and still, everywhere our skin touches I can feel the want crackling between us like electricity. I want this so badly, but it’s not who I am. I can’t use my savior to avenge myself on Raul and put a plaster on my shattered heart. “I’m sorry, I can’t. This isn’t right,” I offer an apology before getting off of him. But his hand snaps out and grabs my wrist, yanking me back onto him. “Tut-tut little wolf, there’s no running away from me. You’re mated to Alpha King Aiden now and I fully intend to keep you.”

My son asked me for something I couldn’t give. “Just three chances, Mom,” he whispered. “If he really doesn’t love us after that… we’ll leave forever.” He was talking about his father — Giovanni Romano. The heir to a Mafia empire. My husband in name only. He never called our son his own. He never once said he loved me. Chance one, Giovanni forgot. Chance two, he lied. Chance three… he broke something no apology could fix. So I packed our bags, held my son’s hand, and walked away. No tears. No goodbyes. Just quiet. The night our plane took off, my phone buzzed. “Wait,” his message read. “I’m coming home.” But home isn’t where he is anymore. It’s wherever my son finally sleeps without crying. Because some promises don’t break — they shatter. And some mothers never wait again.

In our five years of marriage, I had given in to my husband, John, for a grand total of three times. The first time was during my pregnancy. He had taken his ex-girlfriend Stacy, who had once taken three bullets for him, back home and cared for her. When I became angry, he immediately sent her away once she recovered. The second time was after childbirth, when I was ready to return to work. To repay a favor, he gave the position I had worked years for to Stacy. He said it was so I could rest well. I looked at my son, who needed me, and I conceded. The third time was during our son’s birthday. In front of the entire company, he had announced that Stacy was his wife, all so she could establish herself in the company. I gave him two choices: divorce or send her away. Without hesitation, he chose the latter and immediately sent her abroad. The fourth time was when my father suddenly had a heart attack and urgently needed surgery. He disappeared again. I searched everywhere for him to cover the hospital expenses, and I finally discovered that he had gone to the airport to pick up a pregnant Stacy, who was returning to the country. Because of that, my father missed the best chance for treatment and died. I was done giving in. I disguised the divorce agreement as our son’s medical bill and tricked him into signing it. No compensation or apology would matter. I did not wish to have him near my son or myself again.

I was once the shadow at Nathan’s side, summoned at his will. Pregnant with his child, only to be fed contraception pills by him. On the day of my miscarriage, he was celebrating Liora’s birthday. She took away my parents' love, stole my identity, and destroyed my token, while he stood by and criticized me for being dramatic. They teamed up to lock me in cold storage, tricked me with an AI-generated apology, and even accused me of faking illness when I bled heavily. The day they tossed me out like garbage, I saw the true face of this deceitful pair—the man who abandoned me for vanity, and the woman who exploited a fake pregnancy and staged car accidents to drain him of his last worth. But I didn’t die. Danny found me, half alive, and showed me what it feels like to be cherished. Now, standing on their ruins, those who hurt me have become the badges of my rebirth.

"I would like to say I'm sorry; I haven't been the best version of myself. I am sorry for my inability to communicate effectively, and I know these past few weeks haven't been the best." "I do not want your apology, Xavier; I want to know why you have changed so much and become someone I barely know. I want to know what happened." She said, staring up at him, "Was my love never enough?" She didn't want to show her vulnerability, but he had always seen it. "It was always enough," he said as he stepped towards her, crossing into her personal space. Her heart picked up its pace, and she stared up at him. She could have told him to step back, but she wanted this. "You were always enough. I am sorry if I made you feel like you weren't." He said, and his lips met hers.

I accidentally break the glass that my husband's true love gave to him. As punishment, he sends me to a place where the upper crust groom their playthings. He wants me to go there as an apology to his true love. I suffer inhumane treatment there. Later, I manage to escape and am brought to the hospital. That's where I find out I'm pregnant.

My mother was dying. Her only wish before she passed was to see me married. For 27 days, I begged my girlfriend, Monica Teller, and she finally agreed to register for marriage with me on the 27th day. I waited at the courthouse until closing, but she never came. That same day, her childhood sweetheart, Gurney Barnes, posted their marriage certificate on social media. [Time sure flies. Three more days, and we'll have been married for a month.] It was then I finally realized that she had married her childhood sweetheart since the first day I started begging her. Not long after, an apology text from Monica buzzed on my phone. [I'm so sorry, Lincoln. Gurney's family was forcing him into marriage. I couldn't stand by and watch him get shackled to a stranger. Just give it three days. We'll file for divorce. Three days later, I'll marry you." Three days later, she showed up at the courthouse in a wedding gown, But the only thing waiting for her was my message. [Goodbye, Monica. May we never meet again.]