An Apology Note

Under the rich tapestry of the night blue sky, the lucid moon accompanied the night dwellers, comforting each soul with its mesmerizing beauty and light amidst the dark sky.

Christon parked his car a little away from his neighbor and slipped out of the car with a tired look. He seemed as if he were sleep-deprived as he marched through the dark yet silent road. Everyone seemed to already be settled in their home with their family members, meddling with their life matters.

He swiped his gaze from one window to another as he passed each house. The little sounds of children screaming and playing in their homes while their mothers yelled back at them to be obedient made him smile.

Faded memories played in the back of his head as he remembered them. He felt like reliving the moment whenever he'd come across similar ones. His dear mother, his beloved brother, and his...

Christon shook off his head, trying to get rid of those unhealthy thoughts. He wasn't supposed to think of it. They weren't the sort of memories to meddle with. Time and time, he had to keep reminding himself.

As he reached the brown wooden gate, he pushed it open and locked it once he entered the house's yard. Slipping out the key from his coat pocket, he inserted the key into the door. With a faint click, the door opened, and soon he let his presence known with his ever-so-joyous self.

Zavior gave a lazy glance over his shoulder and laid back on the couch with a tired sigh.

"Today seems quite tough for everyone," remarked Christon as he hung his coat on the stand that stood nearby the door. Zavior hummed with his eyes focused on the television.

"What took you so long? I'm starving already," came the muffled voice of his as he still had his eyes on the television. His eyes kept drooping every now, and then, but he shook his dreariness away.

There was no response.

Zavior opened his eyes with a frown and sat upright on the couch, only to see Christon drop a small grocery bag. The frown on his forehead deepened.

"Yo, Chris! What's this man?" Zavior questioned him as he reached up to the bag that was on the coffee table, but Christon was ascending the stairs toward his room, sparing no glance at him.

That was strange, he thought. So unlike Chris.

A surprised gasp left Zavior's lips as he saw the contents of the grocery bag.

"Something's wrong with him for sure," he confirmed as he saw the two food packages in it. His tummy growled at its existence. "I know, buddy. No Chris' food today," he muttered as he patted his tummy with a pout.

The door to the house burst open once again, snapping Zavior's gaze.

"Whassup, man?"

No response.

Adrien took off his helmet and shook his head, waving his hair, before he weaved his fingers through his shiny black hair. He glanced over at the couch lazily and walked toward it, taking long strides. He slumped his body on the couch next to Zavior and rested his head on the soft cushion with his eyes closed.

Annoyed at both Christon's and Adrien's silent treatment, Zavior clicked his tongue and hissed. He took the food packages and went to the dining hall, sulking his face.

Adrien sighed and drifted into a short nap.

Licking off the remnants of his finger not-so-etiquettely, Zavior wondered what had gotten the ever-so-cheerful one, silent and ignorant. He never bought food from the shop, for he would always dash into the kitchen, no matter how tired he might be. He just had the spirit to cook, no matter what the circumstances. But today was in contrast to it.

He stood up from the bamboo-knitted chair and walked into the kitchen. He saw Christon in front of the refrigerator, chugging down cold water from a transparent glass bottle. He gave Zavior a glance before placing the bottle back in the fridge and closing it.

Zavior placed the dishes in the wash basin, glancing at his friend from time to time.

"Stop it!"

"What?" he questioned, pretending he didn't do anything.

"Stop giving me that look."

"Only if you tell me what's up with your broody attitude." Zavior turned to face Christon as he crossed his hands over his chest and had a stern look directed toward him.

Christon sighed as he described everything in detail. By the time he had said everything, there was a thick silence in the air.

Zavior could say nothing but stare at his friend, whom he considered more like a brother.

"You know it wasn't your fault, Chris." He patted his shoulder with a tight smile and continued, "Neither was it his. In fact, you lessened the torture he was going through."

Christon nodded his head and mustered a smile before he walked out of the kitchen into his room with a blank expression. Guilt and regret ripped him apart internally. He was bearishly holding his scream back.

Turning the bedside lamp on, he slipped out a piece of white paper that was folded into four and unfolded it with curiosity.

It was a note.

An apology note, it seemed.

Cursive font letters, beautifully written in black ink on the white sheet,

'Dear Redhead Di,

I hope this letter finds its way to you, reaching your hands despite the barriers between us. It's Ria, your ma'am, although I doubt you recognize me anymore. I'm grappling with the overwhelming weight of guilt, unsure if my words will ever convey the depth of my regret. Your mother, in her wisdom, has advised me to stay away, understanding the danger my presence poses to both you and Edgar.

I find myself haunted by the knowledge that my actions led to such devastation in your lives. I deeply regret the choices I made, choices that forced you and Edgar into the perilous situation that ultimately claimed his life and left you in critical condition. I can't fathom the pain I've caused you both, and I realize that mere words cannot undo the harm I've inflicted.

Your sacrifice, your bravery in protecting me, is a burden I struggle to bear. You risked everything, your safety and your beloved Edgar, to shield me from harm. The weight of this truth hangs heavily on my conscience. In the pursuit of my own safety, I inadvertently placed your lives in jeopardy. I'm wracked with guilt and sorrow, knowing that my actions led to such heartbreak.

I write this letter not as an attempt to absolve myself of responsibility, for I know that no amount of apologies can mend the damage I've done. Instead, I write to express the profound remorse that consumes me, to convey the depth of my sorrow for the pain I've caused you. I wish I could turn back time and undo the mistakes that led us here, but I know that's impossible.

I understand that my presence in your life now might only bring more turmoil, but I implore you, Diego, to find it in your heart to forgive me. I can't bear the thought of losing another person dear to me. The prospect of facing a world without you in it is a crushing reality I can't bear.

I am meant to be the one lying on that deathbed, undergoing surgeries to mend the wounds of my past. Instead, it is you who suffered the most, and I can't shake the feeling of responsibility for your pain. Please, find it within yourself to heal, both physically and emotionally. I hope that someday, you can find a way to forgive me and that you may find peace despite the scars I've left on your life.

With heartfelt remorse and aching sincerity,

Gloria.'