I Wrote Seven Years Of Letters Answered By AI Chapter 08

I Wrote Seven Years Of Letters Answered By AI Chapter 08

Carter didn’t leave the neighborhood right away.

For the next week, he showed up outside my apartment building every single morning.

One day an insulated bag from my doorknob, filled with breakfast.

Other times crumpled handwritten slips of paper reading Good Morning were stuffed into my mailbox.

On my walk home from work each evening, I’d spot him lingering silently around the street corner, trailing behind me only until I safely entered the building before turning away.

He even taught himself how to operate a coffee maker and left a pour-over on my doorstep—dark-roast Mandheling.

I only ever drank light-roast Yirgacheffe.

Every clumsy, desperate attempt at making amends only drove home how little he’d valued me for seven years.

He’d memorized trivial little preferences for an intern he’d known less than half a year, yet after seven years living alongside me, he couldn’t even name my go-to coffee roast.

On the seventh evening, I stopped him at the complex gate. “Go home, Carter. Stop this.”

“Iris, I just need you to understand—”

“You want to make amends,” I interrupted him. “You want to pay back every kindness you withheld over seven years.”

He didn’t deny it, staring down at his shoes.

“But have you ever stopped to think? Every gesture you throw at me now only reminds me how freely you lavished this same attention on someone else, while treating me like an afterthought.”

“Every extra day you hang around just forces me to relive how hollow those seven years really were. I don’t feel touched—I feel disgusted.”

His shoulders slumped, his long shadow stretching thin beneath the streetlamp. “Then what am I supposed to do? Tell me how to earn your forgiveness.”

I shook my head. “There’s nothing you can do. Carter, I don’t hate you anymore—and I don’t love you either. To me, you’re just a stranger now. The kindest thing you can do for a stranger is to disappear from their life completely.”

Tears finally spilled down his cheeks.

I’d never once seen Carter cry before. He’d always carried himself with polished composure, ruled by cold logic.

Now he stood there breaking down, no pride left to cling to.

Once upon a time my heart would’ve softened instantly, but one clear thought lingered in my mind: it’s not that he couldn’t cry, or that he lacked emotion. He simply never thought I deserved any of it.

I turned and walked back into the apartment complex without glancing over my shoulder again.

That night a brutal thunderstorm rolled through town. I woke once to the roar of rain against my windows.

After a moment’s hesitation, I tiptoed over to the window and parted the curtain just a crack.

A lone silhouette stood blurred beneath the streetlamp far below. Carter remained motionless, soaked to the bone, staring straight up at my window.

I let the curtain fall shut and climbed back into bed, closing my eyes to fall asleep once more.

When I stepped outside the next morning, the sidewalk below was empty.

A rain-soaked slip of paper still dangled from my doorknob, most of the ink smudged and washed away by the downpour. Only two words were barely legible: I’m sorry.

After that day, Carter never appeared again.