An Apology Granted

[MonteGiant 891]

 

 

---

To the honorable Catrin Solene Helvets of the Phoenixsphere,

I wish to begin by stating how truly sorry I am for how I handled things upon that night on the ball. The skirmish of argumentative screaming, mine ending of our relationship, and general disrespect at your party was incredibly thoughtless and unfair to you. You did not deserve to have something so personal, so painful, so dramatic happen in front of others, especially on a night that was supposed to be about celebrations and enjoying oneself.

Looking back, I recognize how selfish my timing and approach was, especially the concerns of my argument that occurred outside the ballroom. I let my emotions and discomfort take over instead of thinking about how my actions would affect you. I gave you mine truth, but you also deserved compassion and respect, and I failed to give you either in such a moment.

You mean, or rather meant, a lot to me, and the last thing I ever wanted was to hurt or embarrass you. I cannot undo what has happened, though know I truly regret the way it unfolded and the pain I caused you. Please know that this apology is not about easing my guilt that I might face, it is about acknowledging how wrong I was and taking responsibility for such.

I hope, in time, you can forgive me, or at least find some peace knowing how sincerely sorry I am. You did not deserve the torrent of emotions rushing upon that day, and I’ll carry that lesson forward to make sure I never treat someone or even you that carelessly again.

With sincere regret,
Rodrigo Tupaq Amaru, Scion of the Panaka of Leomonte

 

[tilly 5115]

The mother of Catrin Solene, one Mattea Asadha, read the missive first before passing it on to her daughter. She watched her face as she scanned the letter, waiting for her reaction...

 

@Roza

[Roza 109]

Catrin picked up the missive from the table where her mother had placed it, the seal already broken. Her eyes moved steadily over each line, the words drawing little reaction beyond a faint furrow of her brow. When she reached the end, she exhaled softly,  not in anger, nor sorrow, but quiet.

 

“There was never anything to end,” she said at last, folding the letter with care. “But it takes courage to admit fault. For that, he has my respect.”

 

She set the missive aside, smoothing the red and gold fabric of her gown before offering her mother a calm smile. The moment passed, like smoke in sunlight,  fleeting, but finished.