summary: charles knows something is wrong, but is he ready to be confronted with what he did?
word count: 971
warnings?: soulmate au, angst with an...ambiguous ending?, not proofread
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Charles knew something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what. Something had definitely changed, though. You used to chat his ear off during breakfast, asked him to stay in the kitchen while you cooked just so you could talk to him. But now, whenever he joined you in the kitchen, you wouldn't even look his way, your focus entirely on the bacon in the skillet and the biscuits in the oven. You used to love kissing and cuddling him, often finding your way into his lap if you had time between chores, pressing soft kisses along his jaw as he read. Now, you never initiated any of the affection. And when he tried, you'd always turn your head away, pull out of his arms, act like you had something else to do. Yeah, something was wrong. But he didn't have the first clue what it was.
If he wracked his brain hard enough, he'd know that something had changed the night of the fight. Perhaps you were upset that he didn't want kids? Yeah, yeah, that must be it. You must've felt hurt, maybe you thought that that meant he never wanted kids. That wasn't what he meant at all. He wanted kids, he wanted a full house of little versions of the two of you. Maybe that was the way to make things right?
So, that night at dinner, as you began to clear the dishes, he grabbed your wrist when you reached for his plate. You paused, looking over at him, no emotion, no love, behind your eyes. "I'm ready."
"For what?"
God, it made his heart hurt to hear you be so monotone. Had he really hurt you that badly?
"To have kids, pumpkin," he said, pulling your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles.
"Okay."
You pulled your hand away, grabbing the plate, and disappearing into the kitchen. That...wasn't what he was expecting. Why weren't you happy? He couldn't even begin to understand what was wrong.
He followed you into the kitchen, staring at your back as you washed the dishes, trying to figure out what he should say. Your relationship had never been this hard. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. In the past, when you were mad at him, you would give him a piece of your mind. But for you to be so quiet now? It made him wonder if there was something more to this situation.
"Oh. Did you want to start now?" you asked, trying your hands off with the hand towel.
"No. I mean, yes. I-I want to know what's going on."
You furrowed your brows together. "Nothing's going on. I can meet you in the bedroom if—"
"Don't lie to me, Y/N!" he said, smacking his hand against the counter. "I'm not a fucking fool. You ain't telling me something, and I won't stand for it."
"I'm just being the good, submissive wife you always wanted me to be," you said.
"What?"
"You said you didn't like my nagging, so I stopped. And that I just kept asking for more, so I stopped," you said, your shoulders sagging. "And I thought, well, if he's going to seek out the comfort of another woman, then clearly he doesn't need me to—"
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
You stared at him, almost as if you were debating on saying the truth. Then, finally you said, "That night, you went to the bar and got drunk off your ass, and came back here, shouting about how I just nag all the time and won't get off your back and that's why you slept with someone else. Then you started calling me a big, dumb baby 'cause I started crying. So I figured that I would just stop."
The memory came back to him in waves, how he was knocking back whiskey for hours, until a woman with long legs and a plump ass walked his way, purring about how she could show him a good time. How she took him back to her place and how he—fuck. He really fucked this up.
"Y/N—"
"Please, don't." You took a step away from his as he reached out for you. "It...What's done is done. I know my place now. I-I won't ask for more than you give me."
"But that's not what I want."
"But it's what I want." Tears began to roll down your cheeks, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss them away. "You...you broke my heart, Charles. I can't trust you with the broken pieces anymore. And I shouldn't have trusted you with my heart in the first place."
God, it felt like someone had ripped his own heart out and stomped on it, grinding it into the floor for good measure.
"I'll make this better, baby, I promise," he said, moving toward you so fast you couldn't move away. One of his hands rested on your hip, right where your soulmate mark was. It was warm, radiating heat through your dress. He grabbed one of your hands, placing it over his heart, where his mark was. "I don't wanna lose you."
"But what if you already have?"
"Then I'll win you back."
"And if there's nothing to win back?"
"Then I'll spend the rest of my life showing you just how sorry I am." He leaned in, nuzzling his nose against yours. "I'll do anything to make you happy. I'm gonna make this right. I promise."
And, so tired from having to put up a front for so long, you wound your arms around his neck, holding him close, wondering if it would be easier to just forgive him and learn to love him again than to be play the part of a scorned woman.
