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I was completely taken aback by his apology. There was no way for me to know whether it was a genuine apology or a deliberate attempt to make me feel even more humiliated.

I turned to him and asked,

"For what?"

When he was about to say something, he briefly parted his lips, but then, as if something were preventing him from doing so, he pursed them together tightly.

My eyes scrutinized him.

He wore black jeans and a half-sleeved white t-shirt. His muscles were bulging in the arm area. His tattoos were something that drew anyone's attention. The white t-shirt really made the tattoos look easy to observe.

My eyes shifted back to his face. His thick brows and sharp jawline kept moving as if he were trying to find words.

"I had a conversation with Stephen," he said, avoiding eye contact with me.

"About what?" I asked in confusion.

I was not delighted to talk to him. I had not forgotten what he told me that night and how he behaved with me.

He looked at me and replied,

“Look, I misundersto