Destiny's Game* Chapter 7: If Fate Was Kind

Louis’ POV

Alistair fell asleep not long after. His breathing evened out, soft and rhythmic against the faint hum of the rain outside. I held him for a while, just listening — to him, to the silence, to everything I’d been trying to ignore.

When I finally let go, I did it carefully. Gently enough not to wake him. The sheets shifted under his weight as I stood, brushing stray hair from his forehead before stepping away.

The manor was quiet — too quiet. Every sound felt amplified: the ticking of the antique clock, the creak of old wood, the soft hiss of the wind brushing against the glass. I wandered down the corridor, my thoughts echoing louder than my footsteps.

It was strange, how this house — this place that once felt like a sanctuary — now felt like a cage. A beautiful, suffocating cage filled with mories I couldn’t erase.

I reached the balcony, leaning against the cold railing as I stared into the village below. The lamps were still glowing, faint amber dots in the fog. People down there were probably asleep, dreaming peacefully. I almost envied them.

I should’ve never let things go this far.

That thought had been haunting since the first day I t Alistair. Since I realized that every ti he smiled, I saw Charles instead. It wasn’t fair — not to him, not to , not to anyone.

The rain began to fall harder, tiny drops soaking my shirt. I didn’t move. I wanted it to wash sothing away, maybe guilt, maybe longing — anything. But it didn’t. It never does.

When I closed my eyes, I saw Charles again — that look on his face earlier today, the way he avoided my gaze but still managed to make feel seen. The way he kissed Alistair’s hand, gently, like he used to touch .

A bitter laugh escaped . "You’re pathetic," I whispered to myself. "You were supposed to protect him, not fall for him again."

But I knew the truth — I’d never stopped loving him.

The door creaked behind . "Louis?" Alistair’s voice was groggy, soft.

I turned slightly, forcing a small smile. "You should be sleeping."

He rubbed his eyes, stepping closer. "You weren’t beside . I thought—"

"I just needed so air," I interrupted.

He nodded, though his expression said otherwise. He didn’t believe . He never did.

I walked past him, brushing his shoulder lightly as I went back inside. "Go back to bed, Alistair."

He didn’t follow this ti. Maybe he was too tired to argue. Maybe he knew I wasn’t really here — not fully.

Back in the room, I sat by the edge of the bed, staring at the ring on my finger. The one he gave when we proposed. It glead faintly under the moonlight, mocking .

A symbol of sothing I’d built on lies.

I found it difficult to sleep. Not because I didn’t want to, but because the thoughts were eating alive. I didn’t want to lose either of them. Yet here I was — the one creating the distance between the two people I cared about most.

Every ti I closed my eyes, I saw them. Alistair and Charles.

Alistair... it wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. None of it was. My plans, my choices — everything was supposed to be perfect. But life never works that way, does it? I wanted it to. God, I wanted it to. I wanted my plans to fall into place, for everything I wished for to co true.

If things had gone the way I wanted, I’d probably be with my fated mate — Charles.

But fate has a cruel sense of humor. If my heart hadn’t betrayed , if it hadn’t still reached for Charles even after everything... maybe I could’ve been happy with Alistair. Maybe I could’ve loved him without feeling this constant pull toward soone else. Without thinking about what could’ve been.

But that’s not how it turned out. And I hate myself for it.

---

I snapped out of my thoughts when my phone rang. The sharp vibration cut through the stillness of the room. I got up quickly, careful not to wake Alistair, and picked it up before it could ring again.

"Louis Alvara speaking," I whispered, stepping out onto the balcony. The night air was cold against my skin.

On the other end, a familiar voice greeted . "Sir, it’s about the Pent Differentiation Project. We’ve received a response from the board. They’re requesting your presence in Elhurst City — it’ll take at least a month."

My stomach twisted. "A month?" I repeated quietly, glancing back through the glass door at Alistair, still asleep, curled beneath the sheets.

"Yes, sir," my assistant replied. "They insisted it has to be you. Apparently, there are so discrepancies in the data from your last report. They want clarification and... supervision."

Of course they did. The Pent Differentiation Project was one of my family’s most secret operations. If anyone outside our circle knew the real purpose behind it, the consequences could be catastrophic.

"I’ll prepare to leave in the morning," I said finally, voice low but steady.

"Understood, sir." The line clicked, and the silence returned — heavier now.

I leaned against the railing, staring down at the darkened garden below. My breath fogged in the air. Another month away. Another month of pretending that everything was fine while the world around — the people I loved — fell apart.

Elhurst City. A clean slate, maybe. Or another prison in disguise.

I slipped the phone into my pocket and turned back toward the bedroom. Alistair stirred slightly, murmuring sothing in his sleep. His face looked peaceful again, untouched by the chaos that was slowly consuming mine.

I should’ve felt relieved about the trip. Distance ant safety. Safety for him. Safety for Charles. But instead, it felt like another punishnt — one I couldn’t escape.

As I stood by the balcony door, watching the rain trace thin lines down the glass, I whispered to no one in particular:

"Maybe distance will fix what I can’t."

But even I didn’t believe that anymore.