This message comes late, Shasha, not because I stopped caring, but because I was not yet safe enough to offer you anything real.

I had lost all trust in myself. Every reassurance I once rushed to give felt poisoned by the man I still was inside.

So I stayed radio silent. I sat in the discomfort without trying to escape it.

I learned slowly, and painfully, that truth is heavier than love, and that keeping it intact matters far more than any grand gesture or poetic apology. I am still learning.

I miss you in a way that has no elegant words left. I want to be with you, not as the man who once lied, but as the one who has finally begun to become someone different.

I know asking you to trust me again is almost cruel in its weight. I know the fear I planted may never fully leave your body.

I do not ask it lightly and for that matter, I feel extremely scared of even asking anything from you at this point.

I only want you to know that I see you now, truly see you, and that I am willing to spend however long it takes becoming the kind of man who never again makes you choose between love and safety.

I am here, working. Not for forgiveness on demand, but for the quiet, improbable chance that one day you might look at me and feel the ground steady beneath your feet again.

I am sorry.

I burn every single day in the inferno of what I made you go through.