Page 57 of Accidentally Knocked Up By the Bratva

As I hang up, a mix of emotions swirls within me—apprehension, curiosity, and a tiny flicker of hope I'm almost afraid to acknowledge. What could Carl possibly have to say after all these years? And more importantly, am I ready to hear it?

***

The bell above the café door chimes as I step inside, the rich aroma of coffee enveloping me. My eyes scan the room, heart racing. There, in the corner booth—Carl. He looks older, more weathered than I remember. I take a deep breath, steeling myself as I approach.

"Zara," he says, standing awkwardly. "You came."

I slide into the seat opposite him, shrugging nonchalantly. "I said I would."

The silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken words. I study his face, searching for traces of the boy who stood by while his parents tore me down.

"I…" Carl starts, then stops. He looks down at his hands, fidgeting with a sugar packet. "God, I've rehearsed this a hundred times, and now I can't find the words."

"Try," I say, my voice harder than I intended.

He meets my eyes, and I'm surprised by the raw emotion I see there. "I'm sorry. For everything my parents did to you. For every cruel word, every slight, every time they made you feel less than. And I'm sorry for my part in it."

I feel my throat tighten, old wounds threatening to reopen. "Your part?"

"I was a coward," Carl admits, his voice low. "I knew what they were doing was wrong, but I was too scared to stand up to them. Too worried about losing their approval. I told myself it wasn't my problem, that I couldn't change anything anyway. And not that it should matter, but they are my parents, and I looked up to them as a son would. My loyalty to them ran through my blood, but now I know it was misguided."

I want to lash out, to make him feel a fraction of the pain I endured. But as I look at him, I see genuine remorse etched in the lines of his face.

"You were just a kid," I find myself saying, surprising us both.

Carl shakes his head. "That's no excuse. I should have been braver. Should have been a better cousin, a better person. I've carried that guilt for years, Zara. I know I can't undo the past, but I hope… I hope it's not too late to try and make things right."

As he speaks, I feel a weight I didn't even know I was carrying start to lift. It doesn't erase the past, but maybe, just maybe, it's a step toward a future where those old wounds don't define me.

Carl leans forward, his eyes shining with remorse. Strangely, it has a healing power over me. For so many years, I dreamt of an exact scenario like this. Where someone, anyone, would come and apologize—let me know I wasn’t wrong. Allow me to forgive myself, even when there was nothing to forgive. And still, the things his parents did to me and said were so cruel, that somewhere deep within, I started believing I wasbad.

"Zara, watching you rise above everything, seeing how successful you've become… it's been inspiring. You've shown me what true strength looks like. You put yourself through college and have become one of the greatest art critics in the city. I’ve been following your journey on social media; I know you’re leaving a great mark in the city."

I feel a mixture of pride and unease swirling in my chest. Being complimented is not something I’m used to, especially not from my family. "I appreciate that, Carl, but—"

"No, please," he interrupts, "let me finish. I want to be like you, Zara. I found myself lucky in a wonderful career, but there’s a lot more to a person than a career and money, isn’t there? You showed me grace, strength. Your ability to make it on your own, without a dime to your name, is inspiring beyond belief. Your success… it's made me realize how much I look up to you."

As I listen to Carl's impassioned words, I can't help but reflect on my own journey to success. The path that led me here, to this moment, to Abram. My mind drifts to Abram's strong arms, his unwavering support, the love that's transformed my life.

"It wasn't easy," I say softly, my fingers absently tracing the rim of my coffee cup. "The road to where I am now… it was paved with a lot of pain and struggle."

Carl nods eagerly. "That's exactly it. I want to learn from you, to understand how you did it, and to support you should you need it."

I study his face, searching for any hint of the boy who stood by while his parents abused me financially and emotionally. But all I see is a man desperate for redemption.

A part of me wants to cling to the anger, to the hurt. It's familiar, almost comforting in its familiarity. But as I sit here, I realize that holding onto these grudges is like carrying around a boulder. It's exhausting, and it's keeping me from fully embracing the happiness I've found with Abram.

"Carl," I begin, my voice steady despite the tumult of emotions inside me, "I appreciate your honesty. And I'm glad you've found inspiration in my journey. But my success… it's not something you should wish to replicate. It’s something you can be inspired by, yes. But you should grow to be the man you wish to be.”

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I'm about to say. "But I'm willing to give you a chance. People can change, and it seems like you're genuinely trying to."

Carl's eyes light up, a mixture of relief and hope washing over his face. "Really? Zara, that means so much to me."

"Don't misunderstand," I caution, holding up a hand. "This isn't forgive and forget. It's… a new beginning. We can stay in touch, maybe grab coffee now and then. But trust needs to be rebuilt."

He nods eagerly. "Of course, I understand. Thank you, Zara. I won't let you down."

As I stand to leave, a wave of emotion crashes over me. I think about all the twists and turns my life has taken, the hardships I've endured. Each one was a stepping stone that led me to where I am now.

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