Chapter 003

CHARLOTTE

“Where are you coming from?” His cold voice, reserved for just me, followed me into the house. “Or should I ask who you’ve been whoring yourself to all day?”

I ignored his jab, making my way to the stairs. There was no fight left in me. Not even for him. All I wanted was a hot bath and my bed.

His fingers gripped my arm, pulling me to a stop. “Don’t fucking walk out on me when I’m talking to you. Ever again!” he hissed, his breathing fanning the back of my ears.

Rage burned through my veins, chasing my fatigue.

“What do you want from me, Christian?” I screamed, jerking my hand from his grip. “Should I stay in the house crying and wailing till you return? Is that what you want? Miserable, lonely Charlotte, begging for your attention, will that help you fix your day?”

His eyes grew wide with shock before slowly drifting below my face and resting on Jace’s jacket. 

“I was at my parents’ house,” I sighed, feeling all the rage drain out of me just as it appeared. “Jace was there. He offered me a ride… There was nothing to it.”

He has always been insecure about Jaceon. Though he had never admitted it, every time I talked about Jace, his mood turned dark.

His green eyes locked on mine, glaring. I couldn’t tell what was stoking it.“He has a thing for you.”

I scoffed, turning back to the stairs. “Unlikely. Jace is family.”

His hands reached out again, spun me around, flattening me against his chest. He lowered his head, locking me with his gaze. One I never expected to see.

“He’s into you,” Christian ground out, his eyes dark with 

I swallowed loudly. “No, he’s–”

The words barely left my lips before his mouth covered mine.

I froze.

My heart slammed painfully against my ribs, the sound roaring in my ears. For a split second, I thought I was imagining it. Was I now so far gone that I was mixing reality with my fantasies?

But his lips were warm. Real.

His breath brushed my cheek as his mouth moved against mine, hesitant at first, like he was afraid I would pull away. When I didn’t, when I stayed perfectly still beneath him, he kissed me again.

My hands curled into his shirt on instinct.

He brushed his thumb along my jaw, coaxing my lips apart. I sighed, my mouth falling open to welcome his searching tongue. A quiet, aching relief flooded my body, weakening my knees.

I melted into him.

His arms came around me, firm and protective, pulling me against his chest. I felt the steady beat of his heart, felt how his body softened as though the fight inside him had momentarily gone still.

He rested his forehead against mine, breathing unevenly.

“Charlotte…” he murmured, my name sounding like a confession.

I did not answer. I could not. I was afraid that if I spoke, the moment would shatter.

He guided me gently toward the sofa. When we lay down, he did not press further. Instead, he pulled me close, tucking my head beneath his chin like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His hand stroked my hair. 

We stayed like that in silence, his scent warming my heart.

A tear slipped from the corner of my eye.

This… this was all I had ever wanted.

I snuggled deeper, basking in the aftermath of our lovemaking. It was everything I dreamt it would be. I winced, suddenly conscious of his silence. He hasn’t said a word since. Was he regretting it?

“Christian–”

“Shh,” his finger pressed against my lips. “Let’s just enjoy the moment.”

My head snapped at the pain in his voice, fuelling my fear. “What’s wrong? Are you… Are you…” I trailed off, too afraid to utter the words.

“No, it has nothing to do with you,” he sighed, planting a kiss on my forehead before pulling me back down. “I had a rough day.”

“Want to talk about it?” I pushed, not ready to let it go.

His hands tightened around me. I sighed, taking his silence as my answer. 

“She doesn’t remember me,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “The doctor said it could be permanent... she doesn’t remember me.”

Pain sliced through my heart as the realisation of what he was saying hit me. He was still thinking of her, even in this moment. I clenched my eyes shut, tears slipping down despite my effort to stop them. A tear dropped on my hair, and I raised my head. He was crying. 

Christian Hale, the coldest person I’d ever met, was crying. For her. All for her. He loved her, without a doubt.

Wiping my face, I pulled his head between my palms. “Don’t beat yourself up. Vivienne’s a fighter. She’s gotten through the hard part, even with the doctor’s prediction. I think she’ll beat this, too, don’t you agree?”

He nodded, his tears streaming in silent torment. My heart ached at his pain. Instinctively, my hands flew around his neck, cradling him to my chest. “We’ll get through this together. You and I.”

Rising, I stretched my hand. "Come to bed. Tomorrow we can deal with whatever comes up."

He hesitated for a second before grabbing my hand. I led him to my room and helped him take off his clothes before we got into bed.

I held him close, running my fingers along his arm until his breathing slowed into a rhythm. I kissed the top of his head, my heart light with satisfaction. I closed my eyes, letting his soft snores lure me to sleep.

***************************************************************

Weak sunlight filtered through the curtains, pulling me out of my dream world. A smile teased my lips as memories from the last night trickled in slowly. It quickly disappeared as my hand touched the empty space beside me.

“Christian?” I called, my heart racing with panic.

“Here,” he replied, and my eyes snapped in the direction of his voice. He was seated on the couch across from me, his face buried behind his hands. “I’m going to the hospital.”

He stood up, and my eyes widened. “Like this?” The question left my lips in a rush. 

He looked nothing like the arrogant, confident man I knew. His eyes were swollen, like he didn’t get any sleep last night. 

“I’ll freshen up in the hospital,” his voice sounded tired. Finally, he met my gaze, pleading, and I knew what he was begging– I shouldn’t stop him. I shouldn’t hold last night over his head.

I stood up, wrapping my hair into a messy bun. “I’m coming with you,” I said, not acknowledging his pleas.

“You don’t have–”

“I want to,” I offered, averting my gaze, afraid I would fall apart. “For you. Please, let me.”

He didn't respond.

Seconds passed, and I was already prepared to stalk him out of the house. “Okay,” his quiet reply reached my ears. I nodded, relief flooding through me. 

We drove in silence to the hospital. His hand reached for mine, entwining our fingers together. I smiled, feeling warmth rush up to my cheek as he squeezed gently. Hand in hand, we drifted through the hospital. 

The door opened just as we reached her room. She was seated upright, supported by pillows. Her eyes rested on us as soon as we walked in.

“Chris,” her hoarse voice carried through the quiet room.

Christian dropped my hand. My heart raced. He was beside her before I could blink, his mouth all over her face, planting kisses.

I gasped, leaning on the door frame for support as my chest clenched with pain. I didn’t expect it to hurt this much. Why did it? I’d prepared myself for it.

Slowly, almost mechanically, I moved towards them. “Hello Vivienne," I pushed out, my hand resting on Christian's shoulder. “I’m glad you’re awake. I’m–”

Vivienne looked at me, confused, then suddenly hid under the covers as if she were afraid of me.

Christian shrugged off my hand, nearly pushing me to the floor. “Get out of here,” he growled, his voice deathly calm. “Now.”

I stumbled back, shocked at his change. “Christian?”

He turned to the nurse. “Get her out of here, even if you’ve dragged her by her hair. This woman…” he pointed at me. “Is a threat to your patient. I want a security alert for whenever she steps within 100 feet anywhere close to this room.”

“Christian!” I screamed, hardly believing what I was hearing. “What are you trying to do?”

He spun toward me, his eyes filled with hate. “Keeping you away from her. Away from us.”

I stared at the man who looked nothing like the man who had made love to me and cried in my arms last night. Instead, he looked like the Christian I’d known for three years. How could I think he’d changed? Slowly, the realisation sank in. Last night was an act. He’d used me to take away his pain of losing her.

Rage blinded my eyes and senses. I struck out, hitting his cheek with as much force as I could muster. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” I cried, tears rolling down my cheeks. “I can’t… I want a divorce. I want out.”

Without waiting for a response, I ran out of the room, tears blurring my vision. But I didn’t stop. 

My heart ached with every step I took, strengthening my resolve. One thing was clear: I had no more tears to shed over Christian Hale.

I was done.