CHAPTER 15
The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustle of wind outside the window. I sat curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the TV, though I wasn't paying attention to whatever show was on. My mind was a swirling mess of thoughts—Alexander, the argument, his sudden need for space.
I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something was still unresolved. Every time I thought about his behavior, about the way he avoided my eyes when I asked him what was wrong, my heart clenched painfully.
A sudden sound jolted me from my thoughts—the unmistakable click of a key turning in the lock. I sat up, my heart racing. The door opened, and there he was. Alexander stepped inside, carrying an enormous bouquet of red roses in one hand and several shopping bags in the other, the logos of luxury designer brands glaring at me like neon signs.
"Alexander?" I said, standing up quickly. "What are you doing here? And how did you even—"
He raised an eyebrow, cutting me off with a small smile. "Your spare key, remember? You gave it to me."
I blinked, annoyed at myself for forgetting. "That's for emergencies, not for you to just walk in unannounced."
He looked momentarily sheepish but quickly recovered. "I tried calling you, Isabella. Several times. You weren't answering, so I figured I'd come by."
I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes at him. "And why would I answer, Alexander? You're the one who said you needed a break. Or did you forget that part?"
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He sighed, setting the bags and flowers on the table before turning to face me. "I didn't forget," he said, his voice softer now. "And I'm sorry, Isabella. I made a mistake."
"A mistake?" I repeated, incredulous. "Alexander, you showed up at my place drunk, picked a fight with me, said things I'll probably never forget, and then told me you needed space. Now you're here with flowers and designer bags like that's supposed to fix everything?"
His jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he took a step closer to me. "You're right. I messed up. And I'm not here to try and sweep it under the rug. I came to explain."
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I crossed my arms, trying to maintain the barrier between us. "Go on, then. Explain."
He ran a hand through his hair, looking genuinely distressed. "Things haven't been going well at work," he admitted. "The company's facing challenges—financial struggles, deals falling through. It's been... overwhelming, to say the least."
I frowned, my defenses faltering slightly. "And that's why you showed up here drunk? Why you lashed out at me?"
He nodded. "Yes. I let my stress and frustration get the better of me, and I took it out on you. That was wrong. Completely wrong."
"Why didn't you just tell me that?" I asked, my voice tinged with both anger and hurt. "Why shut me out instead of letting me help you?"
"I didn't want to burden you," he said, his eyes pleading. "You've been nothing but supportive and loving, and I didn't want to drag you into my mess. But instead of protecting you, I hurt you. I see that now."
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I stared at him, torn between wanting to believe him and the lingering doubt gnawing at my heart. "You didn't just hurt me, Alexander. You made me feel like I wasn't enough—like I was the problem."
He closed the distance between us, dropping to his knees before me. "Isabella, I swear to you, that was never my intention. You are everything to me. I was stupid, selfish, and blind to how much I was hurting you."
I looked down at him, my emotions warring within me. "You can't just come here with flowers and gifts and expect me to forget everything, Alexander. This isn't about material things."
"I know," he said quickly. "The flowers, the bags... they're not meant to replace an apology. They're just... a small way to show you how much you mean to me. But what I really want—what I'm begging for—is your forgiveness."
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I took a step back, needing space to think. "You can't keep doing this, Alexander. You can't shut me out every time things get hard. That's not how a relationship works."
"I know," he said again, standing but keeping his distance. "I know I messed up, and I promise you, Isabella, it won't happen again. I'll do better. I'll be better—for you, for us."
His voice cracked slightly, and for the first time, I saw a vulnerability in him that I hadn't seen before. It was disarming, making it harder to hold onto my anger.
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But I wasn't ready to let him off the hook completely. "How do I know this isn't going to happen again? How do I know you won't just run off and shut me out the next time things get tough?"
"You have my word," he said firmly. "I'll never let my work, my stress, or anything else come between us again. I can't lose you, Isabella."
I studied him for a long moment, searching his face for any sign of insincerity. But all I saw was a man who looked truly regretful, even desperate.
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Finally, I let out a shaky breath. "Okay. I'll forgive you. But, Alexander, if this happens again—if you shut me out like that—I don't know if I'll be able to stay."
He stepped closer, his expression softening. "Thank you, Isabella. I promise you, I won't give you a reason to regret this."
I nodded, allowing him to pull me into a hug. His arms were strong and warm, and despite everything, I felt a flicker of comfort.
As he held me, I silently prayed that his promises weren't empty, that this wouldn't become a pattern. Because while I loved Alexander, I couldn't keep weathering storms like this.