Today, I’m writing about apologies, the ones you wait for, the ones you think will fix something, and the ones that somehow break you even more.
I finally got mine. From the person who betrayed me in a way I still struggle to explain. It wasn’t simple hurt; it was the kind of situation that would fit perfectly in a Nollywood movie, and the audience would probably shake their heads and say, “Ah, this one suffered.”
For months, I waited for a sincere apology. Not because I wanted them back in my life, but because something in me wanted the truth acknowledged. Wanted the wrong named. Wanted the wound recognized by the person who caused it.
Then, out of nowhere, at 4:56 a.m., on a Wednesday a voice note arrived.
I don’t know why it hit me the way it did. Why four minutes and fifty seconds of honesty, real trembling remorse, managed to shake me. I had been doing well. I was no longer crying, I wasn’t dwelling on the situation, I wasn’t feeling anything close to heartbreak. I genuinely thought I had moved on.
But after listening to that message, something cracked open. Quietly. Slowly. Like a wall that had been holding itself together out of sheer stubbornness finally gave up. I’ve been breaking down at random moments ever since, and I can’t fully explain why.
Maybe when someone finally apologizes, it forces you to confront the version of yourself that survived without it. Maybe it highlights every moment you held yourself together when you shouldn’t have had to. Maybe it reminds you of how deeply you were wounded. wounds you had convinced yourself were already healed.
I’m still confused by how I can dislike someone and care about them at the same time. How I can genuinely wish them well, yet feel sad all over again. How I pray never to cross paths with them again, yet a part of me softened hearing the regret in their voice.
I don’t know what all of this means yet. I only know what I’m hoping for: that a year from now, I’ll revisit this memory without the sting. That I’ll be in a better place emotionally, mentally, financially, maybe even physically. That this chapter will feel distant, like something I learned from, not something I’m still carrying.
I hope I remember this moment only as proof that I kept going, even when the apology finally came long after the damage was done.
