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Charles's POV
"It's good you're listening," my mother said. "But Charles, even if you're having fun with people your age, doing youthful things, please remember to come home by 10 p.m., at least. Don't be too rowdy, okay? Don't hurt yourself. Come back in one piece, just as you left the house. Okay, Charles?"
"I will, Mom," I reassured her. "I'll be back in one piece."
She sounded pleased. I thought she would end the call, but of course, she didn't.
"Now, Charles, it's nice to have fun and games, but sometimes you should focus on your career," she continued. "Your father and I want you to be a little more like Louis. Not in business, since you clearly have no passion for it, but in… discipline. Maybe something stable — law or medicine, or whatever makes you happy. We're proud of you, Charles, but I want you to find something meaningful."
Then her tone shifted. "Just… don't be like your brother. Louis leaves home whenever he pleases, as if we're nothing but a pit stop in his busy life. Successful, yes, but so unfilial sometimes!"
I chuckled softly, mostly to ease her frustration. "I'll be fine, Mother," I said gently. "Don't worry."
After another few sighs and muttered complaints about Louis, she finally hung up.
When I returned to the party, Anna was waiting for me. She looked radiant under the flashing lights, eyes glowing with mischief. I tried to smile, tried to wear the mask I'd perfected — the mask of the easygoing Charles.
For a while, I pretended. I laughed when she laughed, clapped when she clapped, but I knew she could tell. Anna always knew.
She leaned closer. "Charles, what's going on? You're not supposed to look like that at my party. You look… sad."
I hesitated, torn between honesty and self-preservation.
"It's nothing," I said, forcing a laugh. "My social batteries just ran out, that's all. I'm an introvert, remember?"
She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You're such a bad liar. You and I have been best friends for years. I know when your social battery runs out, when you're tired, and when you're pretending. We've been the menace duo since forever, the reason our parents sigh in unison."
Then she folded her arms and smirked. "So, come on. What is it this time? Don't tell me it's Louis again."
I said nothing. I didn't have to. The silence was enough.
Anna sighed and gave me a gentle smile. "Let Louis go this time, Charles. Just… let him go, you shouldn't kill yourself for him, if he's the right person he'll come to you.
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Anna's POV
If there's anyone who can tell you about the relationship between Charles and Louis, it's me. I've known them long enough to understand how they move around each other, how they speak without words. At first, I thought they were just normal siblings — close, maybe even inseparable. But siblings don't look at each other the way Charles and Louis do.
I was fifteen when I first realized something was different. The way Charles looked at Louis wasn't the way he looked at anyone else. It wasn't just admiration. It was something deeper… heavier.
Charles used to love black. It was his comfort color — dark, safe, quiet. Red too — bold and sharp, like a warning. But purple? That was Louis' color. Charles started wearing purple just because Louis liked it. He even learned how to bake, just to see Louis smile or say "good job." Everything he did had Louis written all over it.
Louis, on the other hand… was complicated. Supportive, yes — but controlling. He had a strange way of deciding who Charles could talk to, what kind of people were "good enough" to be around him. I barely made the cut myself. At first, I thought maybe Louis just wanted to protect his younger brother. But soon, it felt like something else — something more like possession.
He hated it when Charles got close to anyone else. The jealousy in his eyes said more than words ever could. And yet, Charles never saw it that way. To him, Louis could do no wrong. He still can't.
Charles has always been in love with Louis — madly, painfully, and completely. And no matter how much I want to support him, part of me just wants him to break free.
I know they're mates — or at least that's what they say. But if being mates means losing yourself, if it means being hurt and still calling it love… then maybe it's not love at all. Or maybe I just don't understand what love really is.
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"Charles, don't lie to me," I said quietly. "It's Louis, right? It's about Louis again."
He looked away, his eyes dark and tired.
"Will he stop hurting you? Will he stop disappointing you?" I pressed on. "I know. I know he told me recently that he got engaged—to Alistair. I know who Alistair is, okay? You might not want me to dig around, but I did. Alistair Vale, right? He's... perfect on paper. He's rich, composed, everything Louis is supposed to want."
I could feel my voice trembling with anger. "But still, Charles, he's your fated mate. And he's not even concerned that he left his mate alone! What is he so afraid of? What's he hiding? Why is he—"
"Anna!"
His voice broke through my thoughts like thunder. I froze.
"Please," he said, his tone shaking, "stop. I don't want to think about Louis. And I'm not angry. That's not what's affecting me, okay? I'm just... tired. Please. No more."
The silence that followed was heavy. He looked honest, exhausted — like someone who had already lost a battle I didn't even understand.
But I still remember what happened that night. The night of his coming-of-age ceremony. The day everything changed.
Charles had been so happy. That was the day he found out Louis was his fated mate. He was glowing — nervous, but glowing. I remember teasing him about how his "big brother" was going to faint from excitement too.
But then...
When I went outside to look for Charles, I didn't find him. I found Louis.
And what I saw — I'll never forget.
Louis had his hands around Charles' throat. His eyes were wild, desperate. I screamed for him to stop, and he finally let go, breathing hard, trembling.
All he said was, "I'm not good enough for you, Charles. Go find somebody else. Those mate bonds will fade. You're just a brother to me."
Just a brother.
After everything. After all the moments they'd shared — the secret smiles, the soft touches, the small kisses they thought nobody saw — that's what he said.
I guess that's why I'm still single. Because I'm scared of ending up like Charles — loving someone who can destroy you and still call it love.