"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Charles murmured, his voice low but sincere.
Though he hadn’t realized it back then, the mont he t her at eighteen—that elfin girl who appeared out of nowhere and lit up his world—that had been the beginning of everything. The beginning of love. The beginning of his heart’s awakening.
"Wait... you had feelings for then? But I was totally drunk that night!" Janice blinked at him in disbelief, her mouth slightly agape. If he had fallen for her after she was forced to marry Philip and stayed by Charles’ side—that she could accept. But a drunken mistake? She barely even rembered it.
Charles chuckled and tapped the tip of her nose. "Silly girl. I’m talking about twelve years ago—the first ti we t."
"Twelve years ago?" Janice echoed, her brows furrowed in confusion.
She’d still been just a little girl then. The carefree princess living happily by Cornelia’s side. How could they possibly have known each other back then?
"You don’t rember? It was at the River Villa. I accidentally hit you with my car." Charles’ eyes softened at the mory. "That was the first ti I saw eyes that clear... like they’d never been touched by the world."
He had seen her then—like a fallen angel with eyes that mirrored the skies.
That day, little Janice had accompanied Cornelia to the Louis residence to see Harold, only to be driven away by Anila. On their way down the hill, she was nearly hit by a car—his car. A young, handso boy stepped out and handed her a handkerchief.
Back then, Janice had been too stunned by his cold deanor to even respond properly.
That sa day, the coastal resort was engulfed in flas. Cornelia had died protecting her. Janice’s head was struck—almost causing irreversible damage. It had all started with Anila... and her daughter.
It turned out their encounter had already been written in fate. That blurry figure in her childhood mories—that cold, proud teenager—was the very man she had married today.
"It was you..." Janice whispered, eyes wide with stunned realization. Her breath caught as her heart fluttered—so many pieces falling into place.
The scent on him... that familiar Dior fragrance she’d always been drawn to...
So it had been him all along.
"Now do you believe ?" Charles smiled as he tilted her chin up gently, letting her study every detail of his face—as if to match it to that shadow in her mories. And the mont their eyes t, all she felt was love.
More love than ever before.
"I believe you. Charles... eting you is the greatest blessing of my life." Janice wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest, breathing in his scent—warm, steady, unforgettable.
"No. You are the miracle of my life." He whispered into her hair. His world had once been filled with nothing but hatred and darkness. But her presence had brought color and light. She had softened the coldest parts of him. She was the one who made him believe in love—the kind of love that Shaun and Brian had passed down to him.
There truly was one woman in this world who could make him surrender everything, willingly.
And that woman... was Janice.
Their kisses deepened, breath mingling, hearts syncing—as if their souls had finally caught up with the years they had lost.
"I missed you so much... it hurt," Charles murmured, tugging at her robe. His hands found her curves, his palm imprinting every contour with reverence. Her scent enveloped him like a dream—sweet, familiar, addicting.
"I’m sorry, Charles... let make it up to you with the rest of my life." Janice arched into his touch, her voice trembling with emotion. The years hadn’t dulled her beauty—she had only grown more radiant, more captivating. And Charles... could no longer look away.
Their clothes slowly fell away, like autumn leaves—each layer baring trust, love, and everything they had hidden.
He kissed her like he was praying—fingers reverent, movents gentle—as if she were porcelain, too precious to ever hurt again. His lips traced every inch of her, until finally, he entered her with a slow, aching longing.
Tight. Warm. Trembling.
The overwhelming sensation swallowed him whole.
In that mont, it was not just their bodies that reconnected—it was every shattered piece of their past, reforged into sothing whole
"You’re so... tight..." Charles whispered hoarsely, his breath ragged as he moved carefully within her.
His hips thrust with controlled restraint—each motion slow and deliberate, as if afraid to hurt her. It had been nearly two years since he last touched her, especially after the pregnancy. Yet even with desire burning in his veins, he still prioritized her comfort over his own longing.
Janice, feeling the tenderness behind his strength, was overwheld. Her arms wrapped around his back, and her slender legs lifted instinctively to circle his waist—an unspoken invitation, an intimate promise.
The mont she moved, Charles understood. He no longer held back.
The warmth of her body, the way she fit him so perfectly, sent his mind into a haze of euphoria. Every rhythm, every gasp, brought them closer—again and again, until the world lted away and all that remained was them.
Their lovemaking lasted deep into the night, the moonlight their only witness. By the ti dawn arrived, they were still tangled in each other’s arms, hearts beating in sync, breaths mingled with sweetness.
"Charles!" Janice suddenly gasped, sitting up with a start.
The man beside her—breathtakingly handso and unapologetically bare—lay sprawled across the sheets. The mories of last night ca rushing back, and her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. Unable to bear it, she quickly buried her face in her hands.
For a year, every morning she’d woken up alone, calling out his na as if he could sohow appear beside her. Now that he was really here, within reach, the happiness swelling in her chest was almost too much to contain.
The kisses he’d left on her skin had blood into visible traces—proof of the night they’d shared.
Janice gently pulled the covers over his sleeping figure and slipped out of bed. Watching him sleep so soundly, eyebrows finally relaxed without their usual tension, she bent down to press a soft kiss between them. Then, slipping into her robe, she quietly made her way to Trista’s room.
She owed both of them—Charles and Trista—a lifeti of love to make up for all the pain.
Charles, still half-asleep, reached instinctively for her warmth beside him. When his arm t only cool sheets, his eyes snapped open, a sharp edge of panic twisting in his chest.
"Janet...? Janice...?"
He sat up abruptly, tension coursing through him, and was just about to head out to search for her when—
"Janice..."
The door opened.
She walked in, arms cradling a sleepy Trista. Charles had hastily thrown on a bathrobe, his hair disheveled, his face unusually tense. Janice paused, then gave him a soft, radiant smile.
"You’re awake?"
Trista’s eyes lit up the mont she spotted him. She squird in Janice’s arms, reaching out eagerly. "Daddy! Daddy!"
But Charles stood frozen, his face darkening.
She’d gone to their daughter first. She hadn’t kissed him good morning, hadn’t even looked for him. Just... disappeared. And now she returned smiling, all her attention on the little girl in her arms.
A sour feeling settled in his chest.
Charles didn’t move to take Trista. His jaw clenched slightly, the flicker of jealousy flaring once more—this ti, even toward his own daughter.
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