Chapter 11 Begging For Forgiveness #2
He was leaning against her apartment door—his back pressed to it, head lowered slightly.
The heel of his foot tapped against the floor in a restless, uneven rhythm, stopping and starting again as if he couldn’t keep still.
One hand was shoved deep into his pocket, fingers clenched tight.
The other hung loosely at his side, wrapped in a white bandage.
A fresh Band-Aid sat on his forehead, stark against his skin.
He wasn’t wearing his usual office clothes.
Instead, he was dressed in faded jeans and a simple sweater, the fabric soft, the look almost… boyish. Unguarded. Like someone waiting, not a powerful man who commanded rooms.
Mia’s heart skipped violently—once, twice, three times.
Just like the first time she had seen him in casual clothes like this.
The memory slammed into her without warning. That night. That version of him.
Pain bloomed sharply in her chest, sudden and suffocating, making it hard to breathe.
She forced herself to move.
As she walked closer, Alexander lifted his head. The moment he saw her, he straightened instantly, his posture tightening, shoulders pulling back as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.
His eyes locked onto her face.
When she stopped in front of him, he spoke quietly, his voice low and unsteady in a way it rarely was.
“I missed you… so I came over.”
The words lingered in the air.
Mia didn’t respond.
She didn’t look at him again.
Instead, she turned away, her attention fixed firmly on the keypad beside the door. Her fingers moved with controlled precision as she entered the code. The soft beep sounded loud in the silence.
She stepped inside.
There were no footsteps following her.
Alexander didn’t come in.
Inside the apartment, the quiet felt heavy. She set her bag down on the counter, movements slow, mechanical. Her chest still felt tight, her heartbeat uneven.
A moment later, her phone buzzed.
She picked it up and saw Allen’s name on the screen.
Allen:
Hello Mrs. Graves. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I was worried. Did Mr. Graves come to you? The hospital said he self-discharged when I arrived.
Mia’s thumb hovered over the screen for a second before she typed a single word.
Yes.
The reply came instantly.
Allen:
Thank God. I was really worried.
Another message followed right away.
Allen:
Please take care of him tonight. Today is the day Mr. Graves found out you married Mr. Sinclair. Every year on this day, he becomes extremely disturbed. I can’t fully explain it, but please trust me—mentally, he’s really not well today.
Mia stared at the screen.
Her fingers tightened around the phone, grip firm enough that the edges pressed into her skin. Something twisted quietly in her chest—unease, guilt, worry—layered so tightly she couldn’t separate them.
After a moment, she placed the phone back on the counter.
For a moment, she stood there, unmoving, staring at the door like it might bite back. Then she turned around and walked toward it.
She opened the door and pulled it wide.
Alexander, who had been leaning against the wall without a word, straightened immediately.
The instant his eyes landed on her, something lit up in his face—a bright, almost boyish smile spreading so suddenly and genuinely that it caught her off guard.
It didn’t belong to a powerful CEO or an injured man who had walked out of a hospital against medical advice.
It belonged to someone relieved.
Before she could say anything—before she could even think—he stepped inside, moving quickly, almost urgently, like he was afraid she might change her mind if he hesitated for even a second.
The door closed behind him.
His gaze lifted and slowly swept across the apartment with quiet curiosity.
It was small.
There wasn’t much furniture—just the basics she had managed to arrange. A modest couch. A narrow counter. Clean surfaces. Nothing extravagant. Nothing excessive.
Yet it already smelled like her.
That familiar scent wrapped around him instantly, sinking deep into his chest, and a wave of relief crashed over Alexander so hard it nearly weakened his knees. For the first time all day—maybe longer—his breathing eased slightly.
For a fleeting second, the urge to pull her into his arms and hold her tight surged violently through him.
He clenched his jaw and forced himself to stay where he was, fingers curling slightly at his sides as he wrestled the instinct down with sheer will.
There was a small living room, a compact kitchen, and one bedroom.
As Mia stepped inside after him, Alexander turned to her immediately, the smile still lingering on his lips.
“Did you have dinner yet?” he asked quickly. “I can make something for you. Are you hungry?”
“I ate before coming home,” Mia answered quietly. Then, after a pause, she added politely, “Mr. Graves… do you want something to eat?”
“No,” Alexander replied at once. “I ate too.”
Mia gave a small nod in response. Just a brief acknowledgment before she turned away.
She walked toward the bedroom, her steps unhurried. Alexander hesitated for half a second, then followed instinctively, entering the room right after her.
The bedroom was noticeably smaller than the one at his place.
The walls felt closer, the ceiling lower. There was no luxury, only what was necessary. Alexander’s gaze moved slowly around the room.
A few small items were arranged on the bedside table. A suitcase sat near the corner, still half-open, its zipper undone. Clothes were folded neatly on a chair—not put away, just placed there for now.
She hadn’t fully settled in yet.
The room felt bare. Unfinished. Cold.
It didn’t feel like her yet—and that bothered him more than he expected.
Alexander sat down on the bed without thinking. His hand reached out, grabbed her pillow, and before he could stop himself, he buried his face into it and inhaled deeply.
The scent hit him instantly.
A slow, genuine smile curved his lips.
Mia stopped moving.
She turned slightly, eyes narrowing. “What are you doing?”
Alexander stiffened, realizing how it must look. He cleared his throat and set the pillow back, trying—and failing—to look casual.
“It smells like you,” he said quietly.
Mia didn’t respond.
She walked to the dressing table, took off her earrings, and placed them down. Alexander watched her closely, his eyes tracing every familiar gesture, every habit he’d memorized without realizing it.
“When will you come back home?” he asked softly.
“This is my home,” she replied calmly, without turning to look at him.
The words struck harder than she probably intended.
Alexander’s expression darkened immediately, a shadow passing over his eyes. But he didn’t push. He swallowed it down and stayed silent, watching as she removed her jacket and set it aside.
“I won’t bother you much,” he said after a moment. “I promise. I’ll leave in the morning.”
Mia didn’t answer.
Her silence unsettled him more than anything else.
He could handle anger. Even hatred. But this quiet distance gnawed at him relentlessly. He hated it when she didn’t speak to him, when she didn’t even look his way, as if his presence no longer mattered enough to acknowledge.
The warmth in her voice, the way her eyes used to follow him, the way her voice softened whenever she spoke to him—had vanished overnight.
And that indifference scraped at his nerves.
It made him restless, irritated, his chest tight with a frustration he didn’t know how to release. Because anger meant she still cared. Silence meant she might already be gone.
Without another word, Mia turned and left the room.
Alexander stayed seated on the edge of the bed, his hands resting on his thighs, staring at the doorway she had just walked through. The room felt suddenly larger. Colder.
He waited.
Minutes passed.
Then soft footsteps returned.
He rose to his feet just as Mia came back in, now dressed in a simple pajama top and bottoms. She held a folded blanket in her arms. Without looking at him, she crouched down and spread it neatly on the floor. She took the pillow from his hands and placed it on top.
“You can sleep here,” she said.
She walked to the bedside lamp and switched it off, plunging the room into dimness, then climbed onto the bed without another word, turning her back to him.
Alexander exhaled slowly, the breath heavy in his chest.
He lay down on the floor quietly, hands folded behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. The faint scent of her clung to the pillow beneath him.
After a while, he rolled onto his side, staring at her back. He slid an arm under the pillow and pulled it closer, burying his face into it as his eyes finally closed.
For the first time in weeks, real sleep claimed him.
The next morning, light filtered gently through the curtains, brushing across Mia’s face.
Even though the room was cool, she felt an unfamiliar warmth around her waist.
Her body stiffened instantly.
Slowly, cautiously, she opened her eyes.
An arm was wrapped firmly around her.
Her breath caught in her throat.
She shifted just enough to look—and froze.
Alexander was behind her, fast asleep, his arm tucked beneath her head, his hand resting securely at her waist. Her back was pressed against his chest, their bodies aligned.
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.
She tried to pull away.
“Mr. Graves—”
His eyes opened immediately, alert despite the lingering haze of sleep. He looked down at her, voice low and rough.
“You pulled me up from the ground to sleep with you on the bed last night,” he murmured, the words brushing against the quiet. “Don’t you remember?”
“When did I ask you to get into the bed?” Mia stared at him, stunned. “How…?”
Still half-asleep, he shifted closer. “I’ll show you.”
Before she could respond, Alexander reached out, caught her hands, and pushed them up against the pillow. In the next second, he leaned over her, his body hovering above hers.
Before she could protest, his face dipped down—
—and he kissed her.
Mia tried to push him away, but her strength faltered.
Her fingers pressed against his shoulders, weak, unsteady, until the air left her lungs and she had to gasp.
Only then did Alexander finally pull back, his forehead dropping against the curve of her neck as his breathing turned rough and uneven.
“Mia…” His voice was strained, raw—nothing like the controlled man she knew.
Then, as if seeking relief, he lowered his head to her chest and closed his mouth over her bud through the thin fabric of her T-shirt, sucking hard.
Mia gasped sharply, her body reacting before she could stop it.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, her voice trembling. “Let go of me.”
Alexander groaned against her, the vibration making her breath hitch as her back arched instinctively toward him.
“Don’t move,” he muttered hoarsely. “It hurts so bad.”
Instead of stopping, he sucked harder, then shifted to the other side, his mouth moving insistently. “I’m in so much pain,” he said roughly, “and you keep pushing me. Just give me a minute.”
His words were muffled against her body as his mouth moved again, sliding upward along her skin to her neck, where he kissed and nipped without control. She tried to push him away, but he only pressed closer, tugging her T-shirt upward.
She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
“Alexander, you’re taking advantage of my pity from last night,” she said breathlessly, straining against his hold.
“Let me take a little more advantage then,” Alexander replied roughly.
His warm skin pressed against her, making her breath hitch. One of his hands slid over her bare side, moving up to cradle the soft weight of her mound as his mouth returned to her probing tip, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips.
“Ahh!”
His tongue flicked over the delicate nub again and again, teasing and circling, shifting smoothly from one to the other, giving equal attention to each. She writhed beneath him, every flick and swirl sending shivers through her.
But she didn’t want to give in to his desires.
When she finally shoved him with all her strength, Alexander released her.
He pulled away, breathing harshly, then straightened abruptly, rising to his full height. Without a word, he leaned down and brushed a soft, lingering kiss against her ear.
“Alright,” he murmured quietly, “I won’t bother you anymore. I’m leaving now.”
Then he stepped back and walked out of the room. Moments later, she heard his footsteps fade as he left the apartment until there was nothing left but silence—and the echo of her own heartbeat.