In between the lines

Chapter 6- understanding

Engfa's POV:

The first thing I registered was the pounding in my head, a relentless drumbeat that echoed through my skull. I blinked against the dim light in the room, groggy and disoriented, then froze as I realized—I wasn't in my own hotel room. I sat up slowly, each movement making my head swim, and looked around. The scent of roses lingered faintly on the pillow next to me.

Charlotte...

Did we? No...

I shook my head trying to figure out how I ended up here.

Memories from last night were hazy, broken pieces that wouldn't fit together. I remembered seeing her downstairs with Sea, the way he leaned in close, wiping something from her cheek while they laughed, and how something in me had snapped. I'd left before I could say a word, heading straight to the bar. I could still taste the regret, bitter and unwelcome, that had grown with each glass I downed, until everything had blurred together.

The door creaked open, pulling me out of my thoughts, and I turned to see Charlotte stepping inside. She looked put-together and radiant, as if she'd stepped right out of a magazine. Her long, chestnut hair framed her face softly, and her honey-colored eyes held a warmth I didn't deserve right now. She wore tailored black trousers and a sleek black turtleneck, with delicate gold jewelry that caught the morning light. She looked every bit as poised and professional as I felt rumpled and out of place.

"Oh, you're up," she said, her voice calm and gentle, though her gaze was assessing. She stepped further into the room and held up a bag from a nearby shop in one hand, a neatly folded stack of clothes in the other. "I thought you might need these. I grabbed some things to help with the hangover," she continued, setting the bag down and gesturing to the clothes, "and I asked P'Sun to bring over some of your clothes for the day. We have meetings soon, and I figured you'd need to be ready."

For a moment, all I could do was stare. She'd gone out to get things for me, spoken with P'Sun, prepared everything I'd need, and brought it all back without a hint of frustration. Here she was, helping me when I didn't deserve it. The quiet care in her actions struck me more deeply than words could. Even though she had every right to be upset with me, she was here, making sure I had what I needed.

"Thank you, Charlotte," I murmured, feeling strangely small. I took the bottle of water she offered me, downing the Advil she'd set out without meeting her eyes, my thoughts swirling with memories I'd been trying to avoid.

How many times had I walked past her without a word, avoided her gaze at events, or buried myself in work to keep her at a distance?

I had snapped at her when she tried to engage me, brushing off her attempts to connect with me, treating her with a coldness that felt like a protective shell.

At gatherings with friends, I'd feigned indifference when she spoke to others, responding with short answers that made it clear I wanted nothing to do with her, when all I really wanted was to be close to her. I'd used my busy schedule as an excuse, all the while knowing that the real reason I'd pushed her away was the fear of how much I cared about her. But now, as she took care of me without judgment, I realized how wrong I'd been. Pushing her away had been my way of missing her less, but it hadn't worked—it had only made this worse.

"It's alright," she replied gently. Then, as she moved to set the ice pack beside me, her gaze softened, and she gave a small sigh. "Just... get some water and rest a little. We have a meeting in about two hours, so you'll want to get ready."

Her words were practical, but the way she looked at me—like she could see right through me—made me feel bare, like she knew exactly what I'd been doing and was simply choosing not to bring it up.

"Charlotte, I'm-" I began, the apology rising in my throat before I could even think of how to say it. I knew I'd likely said something last night that crossed a line or revealed too much. I felt the weight of that guilt as I looked at her.

But she held up a hand, stopping me gently, her expression calm but resolute. "It's okay, Engfa," she said softly, a slight edge to her voice that was both understanding and firm. "We don't have to talk about it right now. We can talk another time if you want, but today, let's just focus on what we came here for."

I nodded, her words sinking in with more weight than she probably intended. She was giving me an out—a way to hold onto my pride, a chance to delay facing what had happened between us. And yet, the way she stood there, prepared to help and support me without a second thought, only highlighted how wrong I'd been in keeping her at arm's length.

"Thank you," I said quietly, feeling the inadequacy of the words. It was all I could offer, but Charlotte only nodded, as though she'd expected nothing more.

She took a seat across from me, glancing at her watch. "We'll have breakfast delivered soon. You'll need something solid before we head out."

I watched her for a long moment, guilt tightening in my chest. All the times I'd been dismissive, the times I'd snapped at her, acted coldly, and turned away, thinking that would somehow make this easier for me. But now, seeing her so calmly handling everything, offering me a way to move forward without resentment or confrontation, I realized how unfair I'd been. She deserved so much better.

Charlotte glanced at me, a slight softness in her expression. "I can handle more of the talking in the meeting if you're not up for it," she said, her tone light, offering without pressing. "I know you want to be there, but if it's too much, I can manage the main points. I'll handle the finer details, so you don't have to worry."

It was a kind offer. She knew how much these deals meant to me, but she also knew the toll last night had taken. She was offering to carry the load if I needed her to—just another gesture of care she didn't owe me.

"No," I replied, though it came out softer than I intended. "I... I'll be okay. I need to handle it."

Charlotte just nodded, respecting my decision without question. But there was a faint glimmer of understanding in her gaze that made me feel seen in a way I hadn't allowed myself to be in a long time.

As I took a sip of water, I watched her gathering her notes and preparing quietly for the meeting. I was struck by the quiet strength she exuded, the way she was there, present, and ready to step up, even after everything I'd put her through. The gentle kindness, the patience—it was more than I'd expected, and certainly more than I deserved. Why was she even giving me the time of day?

Watching her, I felt something shift. Maybe I'd tried to push her away, thinking it would protect me from the feelings I'd been fighting, but all I'd done was lose her trust, her warmth. And now, here she was, still offering me the chance to change things, to be better, even when I hadn't earned it.

It wasn't forgiveness she was offering, or even a blank slate. It was something gentler, something rooted in the quiet understanding between us. And I knew then, with a clarity I hadn't allowed myself before, that this was my moment—my chance to stop running from her and face the truth. The truth that Charlotte had always been there, ready to support me, waiting for me to show up for her too.