Chapter 20 up
“Vanesa.”
The voice came out hoarse, as if it had to push through something heavy lodged in Axel’s throat before it could finally surface.
Vanesa stopped walking.
She didn’t turn immediately. Her hand still gripped the thin folder containing the afternoon meeting documents. The lobby of the office tower was almost empty—only the occasional echo of footsteps on marble, distant and indifferent.
“Vanesa,” Axel repeated, softer now. “Please… I only need five minutes.”
Vanesa inhaled slowly.
Not out of nerves.
Not out of anger.
But because she knew—if she turned around, something would truly end.
She turned.
Axel stood a few steps away. His suit was wrinkled, as if he’d slept in it or forgotten how to care. His face looked thinner than the last time she’d seen him. And his eyes—those eyes that had once looked at her with cold dismissal, with quiet superiority—were now filled with something fragile. Barely holding together.
“Five minutes,” Vanesa said at last. Her voice was even, controlled. “No more.”
Axel nodded too quickly, like someone afraid the chance might evaporate if he moved too slowly.
They sat in a quiet corner of the lounge.
No music.
No waitstaff.
No distractions.
Just two people with a past too long to be erased cleanly.
Axel laced his fingers together, then released them again. He shifted in his seat, unable to find a position that didn’t feel wrong—like everything he did now carried the memory of failure.
“I don’t know where to start,” he said quietly.
Vanesa leaned back and waited.
No prompting.
No reassurance.
No softening of the space.
And it was that space—empty, neutral—that finally broke him.
“I was wrong,” Axel said. “In so many ways. In almost… everything.”
A dry, bitter laugh escaped him. “I always had an explanation. Pressure. Ambition. Selina. My ego. I convinced myself that as long as I could explain my choices, they were justified.”
He stared at the table between them.
“But now I understand,” he continued. “An explanation doesn’t erase damage.”
Vanesa stayed silent.
But something tightened in her chest.
Not because his words moved her—but because she had waited for them for far too long.
“I humiliated you,” Axel said. “In public. In front of people I should have protected you from, not exposed you to.”
He swallowed hard.
“I chose to believe other voices,” he added, “because I was afraid of hearing the truth from you.”
Axel lifted his head.
His eyes were red.
“I loved you,” he said. No grand tone. No dramatic flourish. Just a confession stripped of timing. “I loved you then. And I wasted it.”
Vanesa exhaled slowly.
She looked at Axel for a long moment—not with hatred, but with a clarity so cold it startled even her.
“Do you know,” she said finally, “how many times I imagined this conversation?”
Axel stiffened.
“I imagined you coming to me,” Vanesa went on, her voice gentle but steady. “Admitting your mistakes. Apologizing. Saying all of this.”
A faint smile touched her lips—but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“And in my imagination… I was always waiting. Hoping.”
Axel dropped his gaze.
“But now,” Vanesa continued, “I’m not waiting anymore.”
The words didn’t strike like a blow.
They seeped in.
Slowly.
Settling deep in Axel’s awareness, heavy and immovable.
“I’m not here to ask you to come back to me,” he said quickly, almost desperately. “I know I don’t deserve that. I just—I just need you to know that I’m truly sorry.”
Vanesa nodded.
“I know.”
The answer was simple.
Too simple.
And that simplicity made Axel flinch.
“You… you know?” he asked quietly.
“I can see it,” Vanesa replied. “In the way you’re standing. In the way you’re speaking without blaming anyone else.”
She placed the folder beside her chair.
“Your regret is real.”
Axel looked at her, a fragile spark of hope flickering in his eyes.
“But?” he asked cautiously.
Vanesa met his gaze.
“But regret doesn’t always arrive on time.”
Axel shook his head, a bitter smile forming.
“I always thought,” he said softly, “that as long as I was brave enough to apologize, there would still be a chance.”
Vanesa didn’t answer right away.
She remembered the nights she cried alone.
The moments she questioned her worth.
The times she stayed by Axel’s side while being pushed further and further into the background.
“I used to think that too,” she said honestly. “Before.”
She leaned forward slightly.
“But life doesn’t always offer second chances for the same feelings.”
Axel closed his eyes.
The sentence landed like a hammer—not shattering him, but sealing something shut beyond repair.
“Can I still make it right?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
Vanesa looked at him for a long time.
The question was heavy—not because the answer was hard, but because it was clear.
“You can make it right,” she said at last. “But not with me.”
Axel opened his eyes.
“You can become a better man,” Vanesa continued. “You can take responsibility for your choices. You can stop hurting others to protect your ego.”
She paused.
“That is redemption.”
Vanesa breathed out slowly.
“But forgiveness,” she added, “is not an obligation of the person who was hurt.”
Silence settled between them again.
Axel felt something in his chest—not anger, not regret anymore.
Acceptance.
Bitter. Unavoidable.
“So this is the end,” he said quietly.
Vanesa nodded.
“This is where I choose myself,” she replied.
Axel smiled faintly.
“You always deserved to,” he said.
He stood.
For a moment, he hesitated—like there was something else he wanted to say, then thought better of it.
“I hope,” he said finally, “you’re truly happy.”
Vanesa stood as well.
Their eyes met.
And for the first time—there was no pain pulsing between them.
Only distance, finally shaped into something complete.
“I am,” Vanesa answered softly.