champagne problems

21

Engfa's POV:

My entire body trembled as I heard Charlotte's voice once again, memories flooding back in an instant. The pain, the happy moments, the hurtful words—they all surged back at once, overwhelming me.

Suddenly, I felt weak, as if the weight of the past was pressing down on my shoulders, threatening to crush my spirit. Each word from Charlotte stirred up emotions I thought I had buried deep inside.

My unease intensified as Charlotte's whispered plea reached my ears.

“Please, I need you,” she said, her voice laced with tears.

Without a second thought, I was on my feet, fleeing from the porch of Yoko's house to bid a hasty goodbye to her and her mother.

I knew it was wrong to lie to her, especially now that we're making a big progress. But I couldn't help it. There's this undeniable force that's pulling me harshly. I couldn't fight it.

Now, I found myself driving like a lunatic, heading towards the woman who shattered my heart and left me crestfallen five years ago. The same woman who I just witnessed tying the knots with somebody else — somebody else that should have been me. The woman who brought me to my knees, both literally and figuratively. The woman to whom I poured out my heart for the first time—my first love.

I didn't need to ask her where she was. I knew exactly where to find her, no matter where she was. I will always be able to find her.

Charlotte calling me at 10 pm on a Friday night wasn't a good sign. My heart raced, my nerves on edge.

"Shit!" I cursed as someone cut me off on the road. "Asshole! Fuck you and your beat-down car!" I shouted.

After turning my usual 30-minute drive into a 10-minute one, I finally arrived. Parking two houses away from Charlotte's, I sent the unknown number a text, now knowing it was Charlotte's, saying I had arrived and asking her to come outside.

Less than five minutes later, Charlotte opened her gate. Her and her husband's house—a painful reminder to Engfa that Charlotte wasn't hers.

I remained in my car, letting Charlotte enter the passenger seat. The car filled with uncomfortable silence. I stole glances at Charlotte's appearance from my peripheral vision. Her eyes were red from crying, her cheeks a bit puffy and red.

We sat there in silence for about 10 minutes. No one dared to speak. The tension was palpable, suffocating even outside the car.

"Thank you for coming," Charlotte's voice broke the silence. She glanced at me briefly before fiddling with the hem of her sweater. "And sorry for calling you."

"What happened?" I asked, my voice thick and emotionless, still refusing to meet her gaze.

"I... I was pregnant, Engfa," Charlotte sobbed.

I gripped the steering wheel hard, my knuckles turning white.

Was... that simple word brought an uncomfortable feeling on my insides. A gnawing feeling of unease was felt immediately by my body upon analysing her statement.

But even to my surprise, I chose to be cold and clipped as I replied to her.

"I don't see why any of this concerns me, Charlotte. It has nothing to do with me," I couldn't hide the anger in my voice any longer. "Why are you doing this to me?" I finally looked at her, anger etched on my face.

Why me? Of all the people Charlotte knew, why did she call me? Was it to inflict more pain? To unload her guilt? Or was it some twisted attempt at comfort? Damn it! Charlotte was already married, for fuck’s sake!