Charles' POV
It was already so late before we got home.
I remember Mom greeting us at the door, her face lit with that soft worry she always wears when I stay out too long. I muttered something about work, smiled just enough to make her stop asking questions, and went straight to my room.
The rest of the night was a blur — a haze of hot water, dim light, and thoughts I didn't want to unpack.
When I woke up the next morning, I felt like I'd been hit by a bus. My whole body ached — maybe from all the lifting yesterday, or maybe from pretending I wasn't bothered when I clearly was.
My phone buzzed.
Anna.
I hesitated for a second before answering.
She didn't even say hi, just jumped straight into her usual, "So? Spill. How was it?"
I sighed, rolling onto my back. "You mean how I was?"
"Obviously. Don't tell me you behaved yourself."
I laughed a little, staring at the ceiling. "I did what I said I would."
"Oh no. What did you do?"
