Perfect Sin

The office was quiet that afternoon. The usual buzz of calls and meetings had settled into a calm lull. Levi sat at his desk, fingers tapping against a closed file, mind elsewhere—somewhere between memories of last night and dreams of a future he no longer feared.

Then the door opened.

"Mr. President," his other secretary called softly, "there's… someone here to see you."

Before Levi could respond, his father stepped in.

The room shifted instantly. Time slowed. Levi froze in his chair, his expression unreadable. The last time they spoke, harsh words had flown like daggers. Words he couldn't unsay. Wounds that felt too deep to heal.

His father looked older than he remembered—tired, worn by regret.

"Levi," he said, voice low and trembling. "I… I came to apologize."

Levi remained still.

"I know what I did was wrong," his father continued. "Back then, we were drowning, son. No money. No roof. You were just a child, and I… I didn't think. I was desperate. I signed that contract with the devil, thinking it would save us."

His voice cracked.

"But I didn't consider what it would do to you. I didn't see the price you'd have to pay. And I can never undo that, but I'm begging you… forgive me. Not as a man who made a mistake, but as your father—who loves you."

Silence wrapped around them.

Then, Levi stood slowly, his heart pounding.

Before he could speak, Jaceon, who had been quietly watching from across the room, stepped forward.

"You should let go," Jaceon said gently, placing a hand on Levi's shoulder. "He's the only family you have left. I know what pain feels like, but I also know what peace looks like. And Levi… you deserve peace."

Levi looked between the two men—one, the man who gave him life; the other, the man who gave that life meaning.

He turned to his father and exhaled slowly.

"I was angry," he admitted. "Hurt. And maybe a little immature the other day. I didn't mean to speak to you the way I did. I was just… tired of being someone's sacrifice."

His father lowered his head, shame in his eyes.

"But," Levi continued, "you're still my dad. And I forgive you."

His father looked up in surprise, his eyes glistening.

"And you should forgive me too," Levi added with a sad smile. "For pushing you away."

Without hesitation, they stepped forward into a tight, emotional hug.

A father and son, broken for so long, now healing in each other's arms.

Jaceon watched them, standing quietly by the door. A soft smile spread across his face—genuine, warm, proud.

He loved this version of Levi. The one who could smile, forgive, and finally breathe. The one who was no longer afraid to be vulnerable, to feel, to love.

And as Levi turned slightly in the hug to catch Jaceon's eyes, Jaceon gave him a tiny nod that said, I'm here. I'm proud of you. I love you.

Because sometimes, the bravest thing a person can do… is forgive.

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