I walked back. He looked up and offered a tentative smile. “Hey. Thanks for not making a scene.”
“I wasn’t expecting to see you,” I said.
I leaned on the seat in front of him.
“I wanted to apologize,” he said. “For how things ended.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“I was under pressure—investors, bad decisions. I should’ve been honest, but I wasn’t. I scapegoated you.”
I stayed quiet.
“After you left, things unraveled. More people quit. I tried to hold it together, but I’d already burned too many bridges.”
He looked down. “I sold the company last year for scraps. Lost almost everything—house, marriage, the works.”
I blinked. I hadn’t expected that.
I sat in the empty seat beside him. We talked for an hour.
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