My Body Is Not An Apology Novels & Stories

My words came out choked, fighting past the lump in my throat that seemed to grow with each passing second. Jason withdrew his hand from his pocket, placing it against my cheek. The warmth of his touch contradicted the ice in his expression, creating a confusing mix of comfort and pain. "I don't believe in apologies anymore. They're meaningless to me. They’re nothing more than crafted words strung together to ease guilt. Anyone can construct beautiful excuses, weave elaborate tales of justification, but no one - not you, not me - can erase the searing pain of that moment. When I reject excuses, it's not out of spite or malice. It's because what I felt, what I still feel, is impossible to for

I replied calmly, “The person you owe an apology to is Mom. She’s only been gone for a year, and you’ve already found someone else. And that someone… already had a child of her own.” His body began to shake violently as he apologized, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry to you both… I didn’t know she already had a child. At that time, I just wanted to escape the pain of your mother’s death. I didn’t want to stay trapped in grief forever, but in return, I ignored your feelings. I thought I owed them something, so I tried to make it up to them. I didn’t think they’d treat you like this… I’m sorry, Trish. I finally understand it now, and I will make it right–”

I typed a reply, deleted it, and typed again; “About what?” The reply came almost instantly; “About us" I laughed. Not because it was funny, but because it was absurd. Us had ended a long time ago. “There is no us, I typed back” “Please, I just want to apologize. I owe you that” My jaw clenched. Apologies from Caleb always came with prices. Still, the idea of closure tugged at something old and tender inside me, something I’d sworn I buried. I typed again. “This is going to be the first and last"

He always moved like he was deep in thought or had some bigger purpose. I followed, feeling completely at his mercy. What would he say? We both sat down and neither of us moved to look at each other. “I want to first apologize for my behavior the other day, I have since realized it may have been considered as rude. Certainly to have left you in such a state. I do not have human emotions, I no longer really understand them. I am unquestionably never at the mercy of them,” he said. Okay, so an apology, that’s … something right? I had a million things to say and against all my urges and all that my brain was doing to fight me, I remained quiet.

I unfold the paper and find another handwritten note from Bellamy. Ryann, I hope you are not upset with me for interfering at your workplace. Please be assured that I did so in an attempt to help you rather than in some attempt to manipulate you. I like to consider myself a generally well rounded person. I am aware however, that one of my biggest faults is my pride. I have always found it difficult to apologise to people and this time is no different. I am writing you this note in the hopes that you will accept my gesture as an apology for the stress and fear that associating and assisting me has caused you. Specifically, the trouble I brought upon you last night when I got you caught up in

"Thank you for meeting with me like this. Before anything else, I want to apologize for hurting you in the past. I know that sorry is not enough to right my wrongs but I'm hoping it would be the first step in working towards getting your forgiveness. I know I've been a bother since we met again and saying that my heart yearns for you is not an excuse to hound you the way I have been doing these past few days. For it, I am sorry too. I have no excuse for what happened back then. I can say I was young and foolish, I was insensitive and moved with the wrong company, or that I allowed myself to be turned into a monster just to maintain the cheap popularity I had back then. But saying all of this

Lycian’s knee pressed slightly harder against mine, a subtle shift that grounded me more than anything else in the room. I hadn’t prepared for an apology. I’d come ready for negotiation, more conditions, more careful political language, more invisible lines drawn that we would have to cross one by one. I had rehearsed patience. Restraint. Distance. The apology landed somewhere I hadn’t armored. For a moment I couldn’t answer. I just breathed. Let the words settle instead of deflecting them the way I had learned to do for most of my life. “Thank you,” I said finally. My voice was quieter than I expected. “That means more than you know.”

A girl mirroring her image now warmly, yet weakly greeted her and apologizing. “I called and you came, as my sin will bound you within me. I apologize for giving you just this, but for the sake of the person I dearly care about, I hope you could understand.” Reading the whole picture as of how, what, when, and where she is bind within its body, she smiles nodding gently as she knew how it feels. For she too took that same path for the fool, but to the both of them this body’s soul and the one in front of her now is the most stupid one.

" He stated. "I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't...." Before he would groan in frustration, I noticed I had done it again. I felt really sad but I couldn't help it. I have spent a greater amount of my life apologizing for everything and it started at the orphanage. I wish I could stop but apologizing had become a greater part of my life. I never actually did it on purpose but then, it came out like a peculiar nature. "Listen, you don't have to apologize at the slightest thing of discomfort. I'm just like you. Flesh and blood. You don't have to apologise when you've done nothing wrong." He said to me,

Started saying sorry with my body, sorry for wanting you, sorry for being here, sorry for taking up space in my own marriage. And then there was Richie at seventeen, cupping my face in his hands behind the bleachers, whispering you scare me, Mickie like it was a confession. Like I was something too large and too real for him to hold safely. Even being loved by him came with an apology baked in. Sorry for wanting too much. Sorry for being the kind of girl someone would leave. I have been apologizing for existing for as long as I can remember. I look at myself in the mirror. The woman looking back is wearing red lace and bruises and an expression like she is waiting to be dismissed. Her should