Charles’ POV
I closed the door behind and leaned against it, the sound of it clicking shut slicing clean through my chest.
For a second, I just stood there — breathing, if you could even call it that. My lungs felt tight, like the air in this house had learned how to hate back.
Louis.
Of all the people fate could’ve tied to, it had to be him.
The cruel part wasn’t that I loved him — no, I’d made peace with that a long ti ago.
The cruel part was that fate wanted to keep loving him.
Even now, after he chose soone else.
After he looked in the eye like he didn’t feel it — that spark, that pull, that unbearable gravity that keeps dragging back no matter how hard I fight it.
I laughed under my breath, though it sounded more like a choke. "The universe really has a sick sense of humor."
I could still feel his scent on my clothes — faint, mixed with Alistair’s, the kind of combination that would drive any sane Alpha off the edge.
But I wasn’t sane anymore, was I?
Not when I had to stand there, looking at the man who was supposed to be mine...
while he looked at soone else like they were his whole world.
I started walking — nowhere in particular, just away. Away from the room, from the scent, from the truth.
The hallway lights blurred into streaks, and my boots echoed too loud on the floor.
"You weren’t here."
Those were the words that had co out of — sharp, cruel, honest.
And he’d flinched.
Good. Maybe he deserved to.
He didn’t know what it felt like to be bound to soone you could never have.
To feel their happiness and heartbreak like they were your own — but still not be the reason for either.
I ended up outside, near the back balcony, the cold air hitting hard enough to sting. I gripped the railing, head low, the wind biting through my sleeves.
He was my fated mate.
My cursed, unreachable, stubborn, beautiful fated mate.
And he’d chosen an oga over .
I wanted to hate Alistair — gods, I tried to. But how could I?
He was everything Louis needed — soft where I wasn’t, patient where I burned.
If anything, I hated myself for understanding why Louis fell for him.
I pressed my thumb against the spot on my wrist where the bond mark should’ve been. It never appeared.
Maybe it never would. Maybe it was fate’s way of saying "You weren’t ant to win this one."
I tilted my head back, staring up at the stars through the clouds. "You really screwed over this ti," I murmured to no one. "Didn’t you?"
The wind didn’t answer, but I could’ve sworn I heard Louis’s voice in my head — quiet, distant, filled with that sa warmth I hated myself for missing.
"Take care of him."
Yeah. I would.
Because even if he’d never be mine, I still loved him enough to protect the man he loved.
And that was the worst part of it all.
---
I hadn’t laid eyes on them for a few days, but deep down, I knew.
You can always tell when sothing’s changed — the air feels heavier, quieter, like the universe itself is trying not to make eye contact with you.
They’d gotten busy. I didn’t need to see it to know.
I had an appointnt today — Daniel and Anna.
Daniel had finally cleared his schedule, so I had no excuse to cancel.
The mirror stared back at as I got ready.
White tee, black pants — simple, clean. The shirt clung just enough to show the edges of my collarbones, and for so reason, that annoyed .
I’d lost weight. I could see it in my shoulders, my jaw.
The kind of thinness that doesn’t co from working out — it cos from staying up too late, thinking too much.
I reached for my accessories like armor.
A thin silver chain — more like a choker — resting cold against my throat.
A wristwatch.
The string of black beads Anna had gotten last spring, when she said I "needed more balance."
And the chain around my waist — subtle, but I liked how it felt, grounding sohow.
I looked fine. I always looked fine.
That was the problem.
When I finally stepped out, the day was warm, but I still felt that strange chill under my skin — the kind that doesn’t co from the weather.
Daniel texted, "Don’t be late this ti."
I almost smiled. Almost.
I shoved my phone in my pocket and started walking toward the café where we always t.
Every step felt too loud.
Every reflection in the glass windows looked a little less like .
Maybe I’d finally mastered the art of pretending.
Maybe that’s all I had left.
---
Daniel looked like he needed the break.
He was dressed too formally for a casual etup — crisp shirt, tie slightly loosened, like he’d just escaped a boardroom war. The kind of man who never really left work, even when he pretended to.
Anna, on the other hand, looked like spring personified.
A pretty floral dress, soft pastel shades that sohow made her glow. Her hair looked freshly done, bouncing lightly as she waved at . She smiled — that wide, sunshine kind of smile — and for a mont, I almost forgot that my own chest felt hollow.
"Charles!" she chirped, practically skipping toward . "You’re early. That’s new."
"I’m trying out responsibility," I said dryly, sliding into my seat. "It’s not going well."
Daniel snorted, taking off his glasses to clean them. "That explains why you look like you haven’t slept in three days."
I shrugged, tugging at the silver chain around my neck. "Four, actually. But who’s counting?"
Anna frowned, a mix of concern and exasperation crossing her face. "You’ve lost weight. Again."
"I’m fine," I lied automatically.
The waiter ca around, and I ordered coffee — black, no sugar. I needed it to hurt.
Anna went for sothing sweet and floral, of course. Daniel got tea, because he said coffee made him "too aware of life."
We talked — or rather, they talked — about work, about movies, about how Daniel’s boss was a walking migraine. I nodded, smiled in the right places, even laughed once or twice.
But my mind was sowhere else.
With them.
I could still see it — Louis’ expression when he’d walked into that room, the disappointnt barely hidden behind his control.
And Alistair, asleep and trembling, clutching the sheets like he was drowning.
Suppressants.
That word still burned in my mind.
"Charles," Anna said softly, pulling back. "You’re spacing out again."
I blinked, realizing my coffee had gone cold. "Sorry. Just... tired."
Daniel studied for a mont — the way he always did, like he was trying to solve a puzzle. "You’re not still tangled up in that ss, are you?"
I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to.
Anna sighed, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. "You know you deserve better, right?"
I smiled — the kind that didn’t reach my eyes. "Yeah. Maybe."
But as I sat there, surrounded by warmth and laughter and the sll of coffee, all I could think of was the look in Louis’ eyes before I walked out.
Like he pitied .
Like I’d already lost — even though I never had a fair chance to begin with.
"You look chick and your dark circles just give the vibe babes." She said smiling.
"Babes." I exclaid chuckling.
"You look good." I said biting my lips, "You look stupid." Daniel said.
Anna gasped, smacking Daniel lightly on the arm. "Hey! Don’t be an," she said, trying not to laugh.
Daniel only shrugged, sipping from his coffee cup with that usual air of smugness that made want to roll my eyes and smile at the sa ti.
"You’re just jealous because I pull off tired and tragic better than you pull off overworked and constipated," I said, leaning back in my seat.
Anna burst into laughter, nearly spilling her drink, while Daniel gave a look — that signature one — half annoyance, half amusent.
"You’ve been hanging around Alistair too much," he muttered.
The ntion of his na made my chest tighten for a second — quick, sharp, and gone just as fast. I forced a smile. "Maybe. But at least I’ve got better taste in friends."
Anna grinned. "That’s debatable."
Daniel groaned. "Can we not gang up on for once?"
I smirked, "No, Daniel. That’s literally the only reason I ca."
He sighed, muttering sothing about being "emotionally unstable and fashionably vindictive."
Anna winked at . "He’s not wrong though."
And for the first ti in a while, I laughed — really laughed — the kind that reached my eyes and pushed the thoughts of Louis and Alistair far enough away to breathe again.
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