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A fragile Apology 

Astor turned to her, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

“You do need people,” she said. “You’re just too afraid to let them in.”

He stared at her, his expression unreadable. “Maybe,” he said finally. “But letting people in means giving them the power to hurt you.”

“And pushing them away means you hurt yourself,” Charlotte countered.

Astor didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes told her he was listening.

Charlotte leaned back against the bed, her gaze fixed on the ceiling.

“You’re stronger than you think,” she said quietly.

Astor let out a soft laugh, the sound devoid of humor. “If that were true, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Strength isn’t about never breaking,” Charlotte said. “It’s about how you put yourself back together.”

Astor looked at her, his gaze searching. “You’re a strange woman, Charlotte Walker,” he said.

She smiled faintly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Astor’s lips curved into a genuine smile for the first time. It was brief, but it was there.

—-

Astor stood near the window, his back to Charlotte. His hands were stuffed into his pockets.

“I owe you an apology,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper.

Charlotte, still standing near the door, folded her arms tightly. “For what?” she asked, though she already knew.

“For the things I said earlier,” Astor admitted, turning slightly to glance at her. His eyes weren’t sharp or guarded now. They were filled with something raw, regret. “I shouldn’t have blamed you. I let my anger get the better of me, and you didn’t deserve that.”

Charlotte blinked, surprised by his admission. She had braced herself for more deflection, more avoidance, but this was different. He seemed... genuine.

“You really hurt me,” she said, her voice trembling.

“I know,” he said, his gaze dropping to the floor. “And I hate myself for it.”

Charlotte watched him carefully, unsure of what to say. The man standing before her now felt like a completely different person from the one who had lashed out at her earlier.

“I have this... pattern,” Astor continued, his words hesitant. “Whenever things feel out of control, I lash out. I push people away because it’s easier than admitting I need them.”

Charlotte’s arms relaxed slightly, her posture softening. “Why?” she asked, her voice softer now.

Astor hesitated, his hands flexing at his sides. “Because needing people means giving them power over you,” he said. “And I’ve been hurt too many times to risk that again.”

Charlotte frowned, her chest tightening at the vulnerability in his words.

Astor stepped closer, his gaze meeting hers. “What you saw earlier,” he said, his voice dropping. “That’s how I’ve dealt with everything. The anger, the guilt, the pain, it builds up until I can’t take it anymore, and... that’s how I let it out.”

Charlotte’s stomach twisted as she thought about the glass shard, the blood on his arm. “Astor...”

“I’m ashamed of it,” he said quickly, cutting her off. “You don’t have to tell me how messed up it is….I already know.”

Charlotte hesitated, the weight of his confession settling heavily between them. She wanted to be angry, to hold onto the hurt he’d caused her, but seeing him like this, raw, exposed, human, made it impossible.

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Astor said. “I just needed you to know.”

Charlotte’s gaze softened, and she took a tentative step closer. “I won’t pretend to understand what you’re going through,” she said. “But I know that running away from it won’t help.”

Astor let out a humorless laugh. “You’re probably right,” he said. “But facing it isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

“Maybe it’s time you learned,” Charlotte said simply.

Astor looked at her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, the room was silent.

“Does this mean you’re staying?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Charlotte hesitated, her mind racing. She had been so sure about leaving, but now... seeing this side of him made her question everything.

“I don’t know,” she admitted honestly.

Astor nodded, his jaw tightening slightly. “Fair enough,” he said. “But if you do stay, I promise I’ll do better. For you. For Jasmine.”

Charlotte’s chest tightened at the mention of their daughter. She wanted to believe him, but trust wasn’t something she gave easily, especially not after everything they’d been through.

“I’ll think about it,” she said finally.

\---

The conversation shifted after that Charlotte sat on the edge of the bed, her suitcase forgotten for the moment, as Astor leaned against the wall, his arms crossed.

“It wasn’t always like this,” Astor said after a while, his voice distant.

“What do you mean?” Charlotte asked.

“My life,” he said. “It wasn’t always so... complicated. There was a time when things were simple. Peaceful, even.”

Charlotte tilted her head, intrigued by the change in his tone. “What happened?”

Astor let out a slow breath, his gaze fixed on the floor. “My family happened.”

Charlotte’s brows furrowed.

Astor nodded, his expression hardening. 

Charlotte stayed quiet, letting him continue.

Astor heaved, “sometimes, I just flash back to old good times and the bad ones alike.”

“That sounds... exhausting,” Charlotte said softly.

“It was,” Astor admitted. “And when I finally decided I’d had enough, I drafted my strategy.”

Charlotte’s chest tightened at the bitterness in his voice.

“I wanted to prove my worth to her and work a lot of things out..” Astor said.

“And did it work?” Charlotte asked gently.

Astor hesitated, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “For a while,” he said. “But the thing about family is, no matter how far you run, they always find a way to pull you back in.”

Charlotte’s heart ached for him, though she didn’t know what to say. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him he wasn’t alone, but she wasn’t sure how.

\---

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Who's that?” Astor asked.

“It's Roda sir,” the voice rang in the room.

“Come in,” Astor called, his tone wary.

The door opened, and one of the maids stepped inside, her hands clasped nervously in front of her.

“Sir,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Your brothers are here.”