Kismet | ENGLOT

Chapter 37

Charlotte's POV:

The bus rattled gently as it made its way through the dimly lit streets of Seattle, the hum of the engine vibrating beneath my feet. I sat hunched in my seat, my hands clasped tightly in my lap, my heart pounding so loudly it felt like it might burst. My breath came in short, uneven bursts, and I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window. My reflection stared back at me—tear-streaked and pale, a mirror of the chaos inside.

I had seen her.

Not just seen her—heard her.

Her voice had filled the pub, raw and haunting, wrapping around every unspoken word I'd buried deep in my heart. It wasn't just a song; it was a confession, every note tearing me apart. Then our eyes met, and my world tilted. Just for a second, but it was enough to undo me completely.

The way she looked at me—confusion, disbelief, recognition—it all flashed across her face in an instant. I could see her lips part as if to call out, and I froze. Panic gripped me like a vice, my chest tightening as though the very air had been stolen. It was too much, the weight of her gaze, the raw emotion in her eyes. My body moved on instinct, a deep-rooted fear propelling me toward the door before she could reach me.

I had just stepped outside when I heard her voice.

"No.Wait!"

That single word stopped me in my tracks for a fraction of a second, her voice piercing through the walls I had built around myself. It wasn't just a sound—it was a plea, a pull so strong I almost turned around. Almost. My shoulders tensed, my hands trembling at my sides as her footsteps grew louder, closer.

I bit down hard on my lip, willing myself not to look back. If I did—if I met her eyes again—I knew I wouldn't be able to stop myself. I'd rush into her arms, let her wrap me in the warmth I had been yearning for since the day I left. And then what? I'd unravel her carefully rebuilt world all over again.

Her voice called out again, softer this time, but desperate. "Charlotte"

My chest ached as I gritted my teeth, forcing my feet to move. Each step away from her felt like I was tearing my soul in half. As the bus pulled up, I climbed aboard without looking back. My hands gripped the metal pole so tightly they turned white, and I forced myself to breathe, ignoring the way her voice seemed to echo in my ears even after the door closed behind me.

The bus began to pull away, and through the window, I caught a glimpse of her standing there, her expression frantic, her figure illuminated by the glow of the streetlights. She was searching, her head turning as if hoping I'd reappear. My chest tightened, and I bit down on a sob that threatened to escape.

I pressed my forehead against the window, my tears blurring the city lights into a kaleidoscope of colors. I had heard her. I had seen her. And still, I had walked away. It was the hardest thing I'd ever done, but I told myself it was for her—for the life she had built, for the happiness she deserved. But no matter how many times I tried to convince myself, the pain didn't lessen. If anything, it only grew sharper with every passing second.

Because deep down, I knew the truth. I didn't walk away just to protect her.

I walked away to also protect myself.

Now, as the bus trundled forward, I gripped my hands tighter in my lap, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside me. "You shouldn't have gone there," I whispered to myself, my voice trembling. "You're selfish."

But I couldn't help it.

I had told myself over and over again that Engfa was happy now, that her life was full and thriving, just as I had wanted it to be. I had convinced myself that staying away was the best thing I could do for her. But tonight... tonight had shattered that fragile resolve.