CHAPTER 34: RETURNING THE FAVOR

We laughed for a while until the sound faded, leaving behind that soft kind of silence that feels heavier than it should.

I stirred my coffee slowly, watching the ripples form and disappear. I never really liked the taste — too bitter, too sharp — but somehow, I’d grown addicted to it. Maybe because it hurt just enough to keep me awake.

"Daniel’s wife is expecting," Anna said suddenly, breaking the quiet with a smile so bright it almost felt like sunlight.

I blinked, caught off guard. "You’ve been getting busy," I said, raising an eyebrow.

Daniel groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "Speak for yourself. I love her, but never again. Just two months in and her mood swings are unbearable."

Anna burst into laughter, and I followed, the sound spilling out of me more freely than I expected. For a moment, everything felt normal — like maybe none of the chaos outside this café existed at all.

"Congratulations — thanks for making me an uncle," I said, smiling a bit.

"Thanks for making me a godmother," Anna added smugly, puffing out her chest.

"No," Daniel said flatly.

Anna blinked. "No?"

"You’re way too careless. Impulsive. A big procrastinator," he said, ticking off each word like a checklist. With every one, Anna’s eyes got wider.

"And," he added, pausing for effect, "I don’t want my child starting life by watching... what’s it called..."

"Anime," I supplied, biting back a laugh.

Daniel snapped his fingers. "Exactly. That."

Anna gasped dramatically. "You’re raising that child in a joyless home!"

I couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound slipping out before I could stop it. For a moment, the heaviness in my chest eased — replaced by something almost warm.

"Charles, he’s bullying me," Anna said, waving her hands dramatically like she was performing on stage.

"That’s horrible," I said, turning to Daniel with mock seriousness. "Daniel, you shouldn’t do that. She may be a lot, but she’s caring, supportive, and precious."

Anna beamed and stood up, doing a little twirl. "You hear that? Precious! Daniel, take notes."

Daniel groaned, rubbing his temple. "Oh please—"

"Who doesn’t watch anime, though?" I interrupted, sipping my coffee.

"I know, right?" Anna said, gasping as if we shared the world’s biggest secret. "He’s just twenty-three but acts like an old man with no passion."

Daniel raised a brow, unimpressed. "I have plenty of passion. Just not for—"

"Joy?" I offered.

"—cartoons," he finished flatly, ignoring me.

Anna and I exchanged a look — the kind that said we’ve lost him. Then we burst out laughing.

"It’s obvious he’s old — he called anime a cartoon," Anna declared in her all-righteous tone, like a judge handing down a verdict.

"It’s unfortunate," I said solemnly, "but we have no choice but to accept our friend."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "You two are insufferable."

"What do you even watch apart from the news?" I asked.

"Documentaries," he started, but Anna didn’t let him finish — she was already laughing so hard she hit my shoulder, and I had to cover my mouth to keep from spitting my drink.

Our table drew a few curious stares, but we didn’t care. For once, the laughter felt easy — loud, messy, and real.

When we finally left the café, the sun was lower, the air cooler, and I caught myself thinking that maybe — just maybe — not every day had to hurt.

Leaving the café, I actually felt... lighter. The laughter still clung to me like warmth from the sun, and for the first time in days, the tightness in my chest had loosened a little.

We walked down the street together — Anna humming some random tune, Daniel adjusting his cuffs like he was allergic to being casual. The world felt normal again. Almost.

"You and Alistair seem awfully close," Daniel said suddenly, his tone careful — too careful.

I slowed my steps, turning my head just enough to glance at him. "You say that like it’s a bad thing."

He shrugged, looking ahead. "Didn’t say that. Just... people talk."

"People always talk," I muttered. "Doesn’t mean they know anything."

Anna looked between us, lips parting as if to say something, but wisely stayed quiet.

I shoved my hands in my pockets, eyes fixed on the pavement. "He’s Louis’ fiancé. I’m not stupid."

Daniel sighed. "Didn’t say you were. Just making sure you know what you’re doing."

"That makes one of us," I said with a humorless laugh.

For a moment, the only sound was the traffic — cars rushing past, horns echoing faintly, the world moving on like nothing was complicated.

Anna slipped her arm through mine, resting her head lightly on my shoulder. "Ignore him, Charles. You don’t owe anyone an explanation."

I smiled — small, tired, grateful. "I know."

But even as I said it, my mind betrayed me.

Because I did owe someone an explanation.

And I didn’t know if I’d ever be brave enough to give it.

"You really hate him," Daniel said.

Anna’s head snapped toward him, her eyes narrowing, but he kept going. "Playing with his feelings, misleading him just for your revenge on Louis."

I stopped walking.

For a second, I thought I’d misheard him — but the look on his face said otherwise.

Anna smacked his arm. "Daniel, what is wrong with you?"

He ignored her, his gaze locked on me. "Tell me I’m wrong, Charles."

The street felt too bright all of a sudden. Too exposed. The kind of place where lies wilt fast under sunlight.

I smiled — slow, sharp, the kind that hurt more to wear than to see. "You make it sound like I’m some kind of monster."

Daniel didn’t blink. "You’re not one. But you’re acting like one."

Anna gasped quietly, but I only laughed. "Maybe that’s what happens when you spend years loving someone who never looked back."

"Louis," he said flatly.

"Of course Louis," I snapped. "Everything always comes back to him, doesn’t it?"

For a moment, no one spoke. Even Anna’s usual warmth dimmed.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, looking away. "I don’t love Alistair. Let’s get that straight. But he’s starting to see Louis the way I used to — and maybe that’s good for him. Maybe he deserves to see how it feels to love someone who’s never fully yours."

Anna looked horrified. "Charles, that’s cruel."

I met her eyes, calm but hollow. "Cruel?" I said softly. "No. Cruel was fate giving me a mate who chose someone else. I’m just... returning the favor."

Daniel exhaled, long and tired. "You’re going to regret this."

I shrugged, forcing a crooked smile. "Maybe. But at least Louis will know what it’s like to be the one left waiting."

I turned away before either of them could answer, the sound of my boots against the pavement louder than their silence behind me.

The truth was, I already regretted it — just not enough to stop.

I wondered what things they actually discussed because I never rendered any help.

Louis lied so easily — it rolled off his tongue like a practiced habit. Maybe that’s what made him such a great storyteller.

It irritated me that Alistair and Louis were so close, acting all lovey-dovey during dinner like some perfect couple in a commercial.

Alistair kept laughing at every small thing Louis said, brushing his shoulder like it was the most natural gesture in the world. Even my mom seemed charmed by it.

I picked at my food, the sound of their laughter grating in my ears. The clinking of cutlery, the low hum of conversation — it all blurred together into something unbearable.

"Charles, you’ve barely touched your plate," Mom said.

"I’m not that hungry," I muttered, forcing a small smile.

Louis glanced at me then, a flash of something — guilt? — in his eyes. But it vanished as quickly as it came when Alistair nudged him playfully.

My grip on the fork tightened.

For a second, I thought about Daniel’s words from earlier. Playing with his feelings, misleading him just for your revenge.

Maybe he was right. But seeing them like this — so comfortable, so close — I felt that same ugly mix of anger and satisfaction curl in my chest.

If Louis wanted to play house with someone else, fine.

I could play my own game too.

I waited for Alistair to be alone before walking behind him, skin close.

The air between us felt too heavy, too familiar.

"What about us?" I said softly, almost a whisper, but sharp enough to cut.

He stiffened, turning halfway. "Charles, what are you— we were never like that."

"I see," I said, biting back a bitter laugh. "I was just a replacement till Louis came. What about the longing you had for me in your eyes? Or did one fuck erase all that?"

He flinched, and that small reaction was all I needed. The guilt, the confusion — it was beautiful in a tragic way.

Was I manipulating him? Yes.

Was he falling for it? Absolutely.

I took a step closer, the space between us almost nonexistent. "You keep telling yourself that, Alistair. That it means nothing. Maybe you’ll believe it one day."

He opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. His breath hitched, eyes darting anywhere but mine.

Louis’ name hung between us like smoke — poisonous and impossible to ignore.

"You shouldn’t do this," he finally said, voice low.

"Too late," I murmured, brushing past him — deliberately slow — letting my scent trail behind like a reminder of everything he wanted to forget.