Destiny's Game* Chapter 9: The Weight of Good-byes

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Louis’ POV

I finally fell asleep.

When I woke up, the other side of the bed was empty — sheets cool, faintly scented with Alistair’s cologne. He must have left early.

The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, pale and quiet. For once, the manor felt too still. No faint chatter, no movent in the halls, not even the usual clinking of silverware from the dining room.

I decided to take a bath instead of a shower — the jacuzzi, not the stall. I needed the silence, the heat, the illusion of calm. The water stead around , soft and white, but it didn’t wash away the unease crawling in my chest.

By the ti I got to breakfast, the silence had grown louder. The dining hall — usually filled with Alistair’s humming or Charles’s faint laughter — was empty. Just , the maid, and the echo of my own thoughts.

I stirred my tea absently before finally asking,

"Where is Charles?"

The maid hesitated, eyes darting for a mont before she replied,

"Sir Charles has gone to a party... hosted by Miss Anna."

"Anna?" I repeated, setting my cup down. "Diana, perhaps?"

She shook her head quickly. "No, sir. Miss Anna. He left just after sunrise."

I nodded slowly, hiding the flicker of irritation behind a calm expression. Of course — Anna. That girl had always been a little too fond of chaos.

"And Alistair?" I asked next.

The maid’s posture stiffened. "Sir Alistair is in the garden, sir."

I exhaled. "Tell him I’ll speak to him before I leave. I have a trip today — make sure my luggage is prepared before ten o’clock. Ensure everything is ready."

"Yes, sir."

She bowed and hurried out, leaving alone again with the faint ticking of the grandfather clock.

The stillness pressed harder this ti — like the walls themselves were holding their breath. Sothing about the quiet didn’t feel right. Charles at a party. Alistair in the garden. leaving for another mission.

For once, I wondered if the silence was peace... or a warning.

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I walked to the garden. Unfortunately, I hated that place. The garden bore too many mories — the kind that never fade no matter how much you try to bury them. It was the first place Father disappointed . The first place Mother cried.

That day was unforgettable. Father stood in the middle of the roses, his hands stained with fury. Mother and Charles were both on their knees, begging him not to continue. It was there — in that sa garden — that he tried to choke . To strangle . Since then, the scent of flowers has always felt like poison.

But still, I had to go there. Because that’s where Alistair was.

When I found him, he was bent over, admiring the flowers. They were pretty — but not as pretty as he was. Alistair was a delicate kind of beauty, the kind that made you forget the world’s cruelty for a mont. He smiled when he saw , and that smile was priceless.

"Louis, good morning. You’ve woken up," he said softly. "Could you spend the day with ?"

I smiled a little, but it was a weak one. "I can’t," I told him.

His expression fell. "Why not?"

"I have an important eting. Sothing urgent. I have to go to Elhurst," I said.

He looked at with quiet disappointnt. "Why today?"

"It wasn’t planned," I lied. "The investors called suddenly. They need ."

I couldn’t tell him the truth — that this wasn’t a business trip, not in the way he imagined. The Alvaras never did just business. This was one of the dirty sides of it all, the kind of dealings that left blood on our hands and silence in our hearts.

And it wasn’t just for a day. I would be gone for a month.

I hesitated, then said it anyway. "Alistair... I’ll be gone for a month."

His eyes widened. The shock in them hurt more than I expected. He turned away, his disappointnt clear, and for a mont, I almost wished he’d shouted instead.

"I’ll bring you flowers when I co back," I said softly, trying to ease the silence between us. "Gifts too. I promise. And when I return, I’ll spend a whole week with you — no work, no etings. Just us."

But the truth was... it wasn’t leaving Alistair that hurt most.

It was the thought of leaving without seeing Charles.

Because this ti, I wasn’t sure I’d co back the sa.

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Alistair looked at for a while — quiet, unmoving. Then, without a word, he turned away.

I glanced at my wristwatch. 9:28.

There was still ti.

Maybe I could spend the rest of the morning with him — even though the garden made uneasy. The mories lingered in every petal, every breath of air, but Alistair’s presence softened them a little.

I wondered what I could do to make the last few minutes count. For all my flaws, for all the things I couldn’t give him, Alistair had always been kind to .

He took a few steps closer, his eyes glimring with hesitation. Then, before I could react, he tiptoed and tugged lightly at my collar, pulling my face closer to his.

"What are you—?" I began, but he didn’t let finish.

He kissed .

It was brief, clumsy, and yet... warm. When he pulled back, I found myself staring at him in surprise — and, before I realized it, I smiled.

I leaned down and kissed him back.

But sowhere deep inside, I wished it had been Charles.

Even as my heart swelled with a strange kind of happiness, that thought stung. I didn’t want to admit it, not even to myself. Because wanting Charles was dangerous. It was the kind of longing that could ruin everything — our family, our nas, even him.

I couldn’t let that happen.

Charles had to see as the bad brother, the careless one. Not the criminal. Not the bloodstained demon who carried our family’s curse.

That was why I chose Alistair. Because with him, I could pretend I was perfect — even if just for a while.

So I smiled brightly, forcing all my darker thoughts away. I focused only on him. On making him happy, at least for the few minutes I had left.

But Alistair, ever the worrier, didn’t want to leave unprepared. He insisted on helping pack, dragging along to supervise the maid I’d spoken to earlier. I let him — partly because it made him happy, and partly because... it was easier than thinking about the goodbye that was coming.