CHAPTER 19: PRETENDING HURTS LESS.

---

Charles’ POV

I could feel their eyes on me — both of them — like a pair of hawks waiting for something to move before they struck.

The silence pressed down hard, heavier than any weight I’d ever carried.

"You have a lover?" my mother asked again, her tone so calm it made my stomach twist. "Since when, Charles?"

I swallowed, forcing my voice steady. "It’s not what it sounds like."

"Then what does it sound like?" Anna’s mom asked, crossing her arms. Her eyes were sharp — too sharp. I’d seen that look before. It meant she wasn’t leaving without an answer.

Anna shifted uncomfortably beside me. "Maybe we should just—"

"No," my mom interrupted. "We’ve waited long enough."

Her words cut straight through the room. Anna froze. I stared at the floor, watching the shadows stretch beneath my shoes. My pulse was racing. I could feel it behind my eyes.

"I don’t have a lover," I said finally. "At least not in the way you’re thinking."

"Then what way is it?"

I met her gaze — just for a second — and I swear it felt like looking into the sun. I wanted to say everything, all of it, about the bond, about Louis, about how everything I felt wasn’t normal, wasn’t supposed to happen... but my throat locked up. The words refused to move.

"It’s complicated," I said, my voice rough. "And I don’t want to talk about it here."

My mother exhaled slowly. "You never want to talk about anything. That’s the problem, Charles. You hide, and you bury, until there’s nothing left but a mess we can’t fix."

Anna’s mom sighed, rubbing her temples. "He’s been under pressure. Maybe we should—"

But my mother wasn’t listening. Her eyes were on me, searching, demanding. "Who is it?" she asked softly. "Who’s got you like this?"

I froze.

Every thought, every memory, every whisper of Louis in my head came rushing back — the nights, the tension, the bond.

But I smiled instead. A lie disguised as calm.

"No one," I said. "No one has me."

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.

Even Anna looked like she didn’t believe me.

But for now, the truth stayed where it belonged — buried.

"Charles," Mother’s voice was quiet — too quiet. "Why have you been like this?"

I didn’t answer. My hands were clenched in my lap, eyes fixed on the floor.

"You don’t talk to anyone anymore. You don’t eat, you barely sleep. And that night..." Her voice broke a little. "That night I came home and saw you on the floor — your blood everywhere — I thought I was going to lose you."

She stepped closer, her breath trembling. "Tell me, my son... what happened to you?"

I swallowed, my throat dry. "Nothing happened," I whispered.

She shook her head. "Don’t lie to me, Charles. Was it someone? Do you... have a lover?"

The word lover hung in the air like a blade. I felt my chest tighten. For a long time, I didn’t say a thing. Then, barely audible, I muttered, "Maybe I did."

Her eyes softened, though she said nothing.

"It’s not... serious," I continued quickly, still not looking at her. "It was just— one mistake. A tantrum. I’m not thinking about them anymore. I just— I just need to be alone."

She stayed silent, waiting.

"The person was toxic," I said finally. "It wasn’t love. It was just... a situation. And once you call it that, it stops feeling real, doesn’t it?"

"Toxic." Mother repeated the word slowly, tasting it like something bitter. "What do you mean, toxic? If it were just that, you would’ve told me. You always tell me everything, Charles. What changed?"

She took a step closer, her eyes wet. "Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner? For you not to tell me, it’s either you’re in love... or you’ve done something terrible that you’re trying to hide from me."

Her voice broke. "Charles, I know you."

I turned away. "Please, stop."

"Charles, please—"

"Leave me alone," I snapped, my voice shaking. "Not now."

The silence that followed was heavy, like the air itself was holding its breath.

"I told you everything, didn’t I?" I muttered, my tone softening. "Every damn thing. Okay. Fine." I exhaled sharply. "But if you force me to say this, if you keep pressing— I won’t be your happy Charles again. I won’t. I’ll never be that boy from before."

My hands trembled. "But if you let it go, I’ll try. I’ll be careful. I’ll be better. I’ll be... happy again."

My voice cracked. "So please, Mom... don’t do this. Don’t do this to us."The whole room fell silent.

I could see streaks of tears running down Mother’s cheeks, but she didn’t react — didn’t even blink them away. She just stood there for a moment, motionless, before slowly rising from her chair. A few seconds later, Anna’s mother stood up too, as if following some quiet cue.

Mother wiped her tears with the back of her sleeve, looked up at me, and smiled. It was a small, fragile thing — fake, but still a smile.

"I told you more than an hour ago that I’d bring you something to eat," she said softly. "I’ll go warm it up and I’ll ask Alister to bring it upstairs, if that’s okay with you. Anna, please stay with Charles. And if there’s anything you need, come downstairs and tell me — he’s not strong enough to move around yet."

Her voice trembled slightly toward the end, but she steadied it, turned, and left the room. Anna’s mother followed a few moments later — probably to comfort her, or to talk things through.

Mother was crying because of me.

"She’s crying because of me," I muttered.

Anna looked at me carefully, searching for something — maybe guilt, maybe strength. "You almost told her, didn’t you?" she said quietly.

I looked away. "I... almost did. I was nervous. So nervous I could barely breathe."

"But you didn’t," Anna said. "You held it back. Still... why did you say it like that? Why twist it with words? You always do that. You make everything sound poetic when it’s really pain. I know you. You wanted to say it — you wanted to tell her you have a lover. But then you started talking in circles. Why?"

I sighed. "Just like you said — I know my mother. If I’d told her straight out that I have a lover, she would’ve pushed until I said who. So I... played with words. It hurts her less that way, even if it still hurts."

Anna frowned. "But it still hurts you."

"I know," I whispered. "But imagine if I told her it was Louis. I don’t even know how she’d react. It’s not just her — it’s Father too. They wouldn’t understand."

I paused, staring at my hands. "Louis... or the Louis that used to love me — I don’t even know which one I’m talking about anymore. The others hate me, Anna. They all do. They think I’m arrogant, unworthy, spoiled. But I was the one he chose. I was the one he loved once."

A bitter smile touched my lips. "I guess I should be grateful for that, right? That Louis ever saw something in me at all. But this new Louis — this version of him — he’s taken everything back. Even my right to call myself his."

My throat tightened. "So... I don’t know, Anna. I just don’t know anymore."

---

"Maybe my parents will accept it someday," I said quietly, voice shaking. "Maybe they’ll accept the fact that we were fated mates. But the rest of my family—Grandfather, the others—they’ll never see it that way. To them, I’ll always just be some desperate, obsessed fool who used strange means to attract Louis’ attention."

I took a deep breath. "I’m tired, Anna. I’m so tired. He’s dead to me now. We were—no—we are fated. We’re meant to be. But then Alistair came along... and I know it’s not his fault. I know that. But it still hurts."

My voice cracked at the edges. "I’ve moved on. I’m not as in love with Louis as I was before. I’m not as attached. But it still feels like something inside me refuses to let go."

I turned to her, eyes heavy with exhaustion. "The only reason I’m telling you all this is because I trust you. If not... I wouldn’t even admit the truth to myself. I’d rather pretend that I hate him. That I want to prove something. That I don’t care anymore."

I let out a trembling laugh. "I’ve been living that lie every day he’s been in the house. Acting like I don’t feel anything, like I’m free. I made myself believe that. But when he left... I fell apart, Anna. Completely. I couldn’t keep up the act anymore."

My chest ached, but I straightened up anyway. "But I will again. I’ll start over. I’ll keep pretending until I can’t feel it anymore."

I met her eyes, desperate, pleading. "You said you knew someone—a way to break the bond. The fated mate bond. I need you to do it for me, Anna. Please."

She looked at me for a long moment, eyes glistening. A hundred emotions flickered across her face—sorrow, anger, determination, love. Then she nodded.

"It might take time," she said softly, "but I promise, I’ll do anything for my best friend. Anything. I’ll find it. I’ll help you break this bond—with that bastard Louis. He used you, Charles. You were young, and he was older. You loved him even before the bond was revealed, and he took advantage of that. He led you on, only to reject you and choose another."

Her hand reached for mine. "I’m sorry, Charles. I really am. But I’ll do this for you. I promise."

Her voice cracked on the last word, and I finally looked away—because if I met her eyes any longer, I knew I’d fall apart again.