Sierra,
I’ve rewritten this apology
a hundred times,
each version
trying to make myself
look a little less guilty.
But the truth
doesn’t need polishing.
It needs admitting.
I lied to you.
When you asked me
to keep things between us,
I didn’t.
When you trusted me,
I broke that trust.
I told myself
I was helping.
I told myself
people needed to know.
Looking back,
I can see
that intention
doesn’t erase
the damage.
I know now
that every story
I repeated,
every conversation
I carried forward,
wasn’t mine to carry.
And if any part
of what I shared
put our brother
in greater danger,
that is something
I will regret
for the rest of my life.
You begged me
to be careful.
You begged me
to think about
what could happen.
I thought
I understood.
I didn’t.
I do now.
I’m not asking you
to forget.
I’m not asking you
to excuse me.
Trust isn’t repaired
because someone says
“I’m sorry.”
It’s repaired
by living differently.
I only want you
to know
that I have spent
a long time
thinking about
the sister I was
during those weeks.
And I wish
I had been better.
Not because
I stopped caring.
But because
I forgot
that caring
also means
protecting people’s trust.
I’m sorry
for putting you
in that position.
I’m sorry
for making you feel
that you couldn’t
count on me.
Most of all,
I’m sorry
that I failed you
when you needed
your sister.
I love you.
And I will understand
if it takes you
a long time
to believe that again.
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