Charles' POV
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Planning was never an easy process. I kept wondering how I'd gain Alistair's affection — or at least get him to notice me the way I wanted.
After a while, the thoughts started looping, exhausting me more than I expected. I gave up and collapsed onto my bed.
The walls around me were black with a touch of silver, sleek but suffocating. A large portrait of myself hung on the wall — taken on my coming-of-age ceremony. I hated looking at it. It reminded me too much of everything I was supposed to be.
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"Charles, you bastard."
Those awful words echoed through my dimly lit room.
"Who is this?" I asked, feigning ignorance — pretending I didn't recognize that witch's voice.
"It's your best friend, Anna," she hissed through the line.
"Anna, how was the trip to your ancestral home?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"Don't talk about it," she groaned. "If it wasn't for Mother, I wouldn't have gone at all. She said it would 'teach me responsibility' and help me 'connect with ancient virtues' or something like that."
"Louis is back," I said quietly.
The silence that followed was thick — heavy enough to make my chest tighten.
"Charles," she said finally, her voice softer now, "I'm not good at giving relationship advice, but… just let him be. If you're truly fated mates, time will tell."
I leaned back against the wall, her words echoing longer than I expected.
I'd known Anna since I was ten. She was the daughter of my adoptive mother's closest friend — a pure-blood like my brother, but far more carefree.
"Come to my house tomorrow. I'm hosting a small party — without you, it'd be incomplete," she said before ending the call.
I hummed in approval, staring at my phone for a moment before letting it drop beside me. The room felt quieter than before.
Out of habit, I opened Picpok and started scrolling — mindlessly, just for fun. At some point, the screen blurred, my thoughts drifted, and before I knew it, sleep had taken over.
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Louis' POV
I paced around the room, replaying everything that had happened today. It was... cinematic, I guess. More eventful than any normal workday — definitely not your average office chaos.
My thoughts came to a halt when Alistair stepped out of the shower. His hair was still damp, a few droplets running down his neck. He stood right in front of me, eyes sharp, like he'd been holding something in all this time.
"What was that, Louis?" he asked, voice edged with irritation. "What happened in front of Charles? Why did you act like my cake was horrible?"
I tried to keep my tone calm, measured. "I told you before — I don't like chocolate."
That clearly didn't help. His jaw tightened, shoulders rising and falling as he breathed harder. I could tell he was about to raise the roof with that same fiery temper he always tried to hide under his pretty smiles.
"Even if you don't like chocolate, you should've told me before," he snapped. "You're always like this — hiding little things from me, from everyone. I don't understand why you do that, acting so damn calm all the time. There's a lot going on in your head, I know it, Louis."
He was already worked up. His breathing was uneven, his voice trembling somewhere between anger and hurt.
I just looked at him — expression blank, eyes steady. It wasn't that I didn't care. I just… didn't know how to show it anymore.
"Louis, at least look at me. Please," he said.
"I am looking at you," I replied, tone flat. "I just don't know why you're acting like we're—"
I stopped myself, then sighed. "—like we're a married couple."
The silence that followed was painful. He looked so hurt it made my chest ache — but I couldn't take it back. I meant it, even if it came out cruel.
I wasn't sure if I was trying to protect him or push him away.
It was all too complicated. The feelings I had for Charles always clouded my mission — my mission to protect him.
That was the whole reason I brought Alistair into the picture. I thought maybe, if I could distract myself, bury everything, it would stop hurting. I thought I had feelings for Alistair. I wanted to believe I did.
But everything with Charles was still there. It never really went away.
My feelings for him were real — and I hated seeing him. Because every time I did, the emotions came rushing back like a wound that refused to heal.
This afternoon, when I saw him kiss Alistair's hand, something in me snapped. I was jealous — not of Charles, but of Alistair. I wanted to be in his place. I wanted Charles to smile at me like that again, to hand me vanilla cake the way he used to. Just like before.
But I could never show it. Not when I knew what my family was capable of. They'd do anything to remove him — to erase him from my life.
So I stayed silent. Even if it meant destroying myself. Even if it meant breaking him too.
When I looked up, Alistair was crying. His voice trembled.
"Do you know what? I don't understand why you're acting like you never had feelings for me. You're my fiancé, Lucis. We used to be closer than this — what happened? Did I do something wrong?"
For a moment, guilt hit me like ice. I didn't know what to say, so I just pulled him into my arms. I hugged him tight, whispered an apology against his skin, kissed his forehead, then his lips.
It wasn't love. It was desperation. A way to cover the cracks before they broke us both.
---
And, in the end, I was able to calm him down — just a little.
I had to whisper soft nothings into his ear, promise him new jewelry, new shoes. The usual things that made him smile.
He seemed somewhat satisfied, though that suspicious glint in his eyes didn't completely fade. He believed my act… I think.
"Louis," he whispered softly, "now that I know you don't like chocolate, I'll try my best to make vanilla cakes from now on."
His voice was gentle again — the angry, puffing little Omega from before had vanished. The sweet tone was back, delicate and warm.
Ah… it felt almost normal again. Almost peaceful. Almost like I wasn't lying through my teeth just to keep him from breaking.