CHAPTER 17: MINUTES OF QUIET

Charles’ POV

My throat felt raw — sore, like I’d swallowed sand. My head pounded in a slow, dull rhythm. Even though I didn’t want to eat, my body clearly did. My stomach growled so loudly I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Mother heard it too. Her head turned sharply toward me, and the look she gave made me uncomfortable — not angry exactly, just... heavy.

"You had a fever last night," she said quietly, her voice trembling at the edges. "After all that ruckus."

I looked up at her, startled.

"When I came back home and saw you..." she paused, her expression twisting, "...blood on the floor, glass everywhere — were you seriously that crazy, Charles? Did you hate me that much? Did I fail you that badly as a mother?"

Her voice cracked, and it hit me harder than I expected.

"All I’ve ever wanted," she went on, "was for you to find your path, to be happy. But you keep putting me in these situations, Charles. You keep making me feel like I’m losing you."

"Mom—"

"No, listen to me." Her tone sharpened, desperate. "Ever since your eighteenth birthday, you’ve changed. I don’t understand what happened. Why won’t you tell me anything anymore? We used to be best friends. You used to talk to me."

Her eyes glistened. "Louis has always been Louis — distant, proud — but you were my open book. You were the boy who ran cold every time, who I sat beside through every fever, every nightmare. And now, you shut me out. Even if something bad happened, you could’ve told me. Why didn’t you?"

Every word pierced through me. I wanted to disappear.

I felt miserable — not just because I had to face reality after everything, but because I’d hurt her. Because my actions had made her cry.

"Mom, I’m sorry," I said quietly.

She sighed and turned away. "Keep your sorries to yourself, Charles. If you were really sorry, you’d have told me what’s been going on. You’d have fixed it before it got this far."

Her voice softened a little, but it still carried that ache. "I’m going to get something for you to eat. Anna should be coming soon. And if this started after that party, I’ll be talking to her too. We’re going to figure out what’s behind all this."

And just like that, she left the room.

The silence that followed was worse than her anger.

I lay back slowly, feeling the ache in every part of my body — sore, heavy, hollow. The air felt too still, like even the walls were listening.

This was worse than her hovering. This was disappointment.

And somehow, that hurt the most.

---

I waited.

For what exactly, I wasn’t sure.

Maybe for her to come back upstairs.

Maybe for the silence to break.

Maybe for my thoughts to stop spinning.

By my estimate, it had been at least one hour since Mother left the room — sixty long, dragging minutes of nothing but quiet. The kind of quiet that eats at you, that pulls you toward the dark corners of your own mind.

Even with her gone, I still felt her stare lingering in the air — like the echo of something heavy that refused to fade.

I shifted my gaze around the room. The mirror was gone, replaced by emptiness, leaving behind only the faint mark where it used to hang. In its place, my eyes found the painting — the one from my eighteenth birthday. Soft, golden strokes of color frozen against the dark wall, a reminder of a time when I still smiled without pretending.

The purple slippers near the edge of the bed caught my attention next. I remembered Louis teasing me about them once — said they looked like something a "spoiled prince" would wear.

I’d laughed back then.

Now, the memory just hurt.

I wondered what he would think of me now — the mess I’d become, the person I was turning into just to get his attention.

Then—

Boom.

The door burst open.

Anna stood in the doorway, breathing hard like she’d run all the way here. Her messy hair framed her wide eyes, and her phone dangled loosely in her hand.

"Charles!" she gasped. "Your mom’s downstairs— she’s downstairs! I think she’s looking for me, and I don’t wanna be in that mess. I thought she wouldn’t be around! I heard what happened to you, but seriously— your mom is one of the scariest people I know. And my mom said she’s coming soon too. Oh my god, I’m gonna be bombarded by both of them. And your dad? Don’t even get me started on your dad. That man is like the perfect combo of weirdo, creep, and stalker."

I blinked at her, both exhausted and slightly irritated.

"My dad is not a stalker or a creep," I said flatly.

Anna raised a brow, grinning. "He is. Don’t even deny it. Sure, he’s good-looking, but he’s still a total weirdo. Have you seen his stare? It’s creepy, Charles. Creepy."

"Sit down, Anna."

"I will. But first, seriously— you shouldn’t have gone ghost mode on me! You didn’t eat, didn’t text, didn’t call— nothing. What even happened? What got you in such a bad mood?"

I hesitated. "I got a call from Louis."

Her face darkened instantly. "What did he say? That bastard— he’s always doing something. I don’t like him. I don’t like his guts."

"You don’t have to like his guts," I muttered, looking away. "He’s my fated mate, after all."

That shut her up for a second. Then, she crossed her arms. "You know," she said quietly, "there’s a way to break the bond."

I turned toward her sharply. "What?"

"I mean it. I’ve read about it. There are rituals— ways to sever the connection between mates so you can be free. You wouldn’t have to feel all that pull and pain anymore. You could actually choose who you want, Charles."

Her words hung in the air like smoke, impossible to ignore.

"Break it?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. "You mean... end it completely?"

Anna nodded. "Yeah. You wouldn’t feel him anymore. No more pain, no more guilt, no more being stuck in this half-life because of him."

For a long moment, I said nothing.

The idea lingered in my chest like a forbidden flame — terrifying and tempting all at once.

Could I really do it?

Cut the bond?

Erase him from me?

And if I did... who would I even be after that?