Chapter 63: Seen

Charles's POV 

The house is quiet tonight, with only the faint sound of the wind outside and the creaks of the old wood settling in the cool air. It’s the kind of stillness that invites secrets, where shadows linger in corners and silence amplifies every sound.

I know Amaarae is downstairs. She always retreats to the garden after dinner, drawn to the stars like they’re calling her. She’s been doing that for as long as I can remember—watching the night sky, searching for something only she understands. She’s always been like that: distant, almost untouchable.

But my thoughts aren’t on Amaarae tonight. They’re on Annaliese.

She sits beside me on the couch in the dim light of the sitting room, her legs crossed elegantly, her hand resting just close enough to mine to make her intention clear. Her perfume is soft, floral, and intoxicating, curling around me like a whisper.

“Do you always keep it this quiet around here?” she asks, her voice low and teasing.

“Sometimes,” I reply, glancing at her.

Her lips curl into a small smile, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re good at that, you know. Giving answers that don’t mean anything.”

I don’t respond, but I can feel the weight of her gaze on me. She’s daring me to say something more, but instead, I lean back and let the silence stretch between us. It’s a game we’ve been playing all day, a slow build of tension neither of us acknowledges directly.

Finally, she shifts closer, her shoulder brushing mine. “So,” she murmurs, her voice almost playful now. “Are we just going to sit here all night, or do you have something else in mind?”

I turn my head to look at her, and the spark in her eyes is unmistakable. For a moment, I consider what’s waiting for me upstairs: an empty bed, an open door, and the possibility of privacy. I don’t need to say anything. She already knows my answer.

I stand and offer her my hand. She takes it without hesitation, her fingers curling around mine. We leave the sitting room quietly, our steps soft on the carpeted floors. I’m aware of the faint noises drifting from the garden—probably Amaarae moving through the flowers or shifting on the stone bench. I tell myself she won’t come back inside yet.

When we reach my room, I push the door open and pull Annaliese in with me. The light from the hallway spills across the floor, and for some reason, I don’t close the door all the way. Maybe it’s carelessness. Maybe it’s something else.

Annaliese laughs softly, the sound barely louder than a breath, as I lift her into my arms. She’s light and warm against me, her arms wrapping around my neck. “You’ve been holding back all day,” she whispers.

Her words spark something in me, a mix of amusement and impatience. I carry her to the bed, setting her down with deliberate care. She looks up at me, her hair fanning out on the pillow like a golden halo, her lips slightly parted.

Her fingers trail down my chest, slow and deliberate, as if she’s savoring the moment. “Don’t keep me waiting, Lucas,” she murmurs.

I lean down, my hands bracing on either side of her, and capture her lips with mine. Her kiss is demanding, pulling me in with a hunger that matches my own. The rest of the world fades away—the quiet house, the open door, the stars outside.

Her nails scrape lightly against my back as I lower myself over her, and she lets out a soft, breathy moan. My hands slide down her sides, feeling the curve of her waist, the softness of her skin. She’s warm and pliant beneath me, her body arching to meet mine.

The bed creaks faintly with our movements, but it’s a distant sound, barely registering over the rush of blood in my ears.

“Lucas,” she whispers, her voice breaking slightly, and the way she says my name sends a jolt through me.

I press my lips to her neck, trailing kisses down to her collarbone. Her hands grip my shoulders, pulling me closer, and I feel the tension in her body, the way she moves with me.

It’s raw, intense, and consuming—everything else blurs into nothingness.

And then, a sound cuts through the haze.

It’s faint at first, a quiet shuffling, but it’s enough to make me pause. I lift my head slightly, my body stilling as I listen.

Annaliese shifts beneath me, her hands still resting on my back. “What is it?” she asks softly, her voice laced with confusion.

Before I can answer, the noise grows louder—a sharp crash, the unmistakable sound of something breaking. My head snaps toward the door, and that’s when I see her.

Amaarae.

She’s standing just beyond the doorway, her eyes wide and her face pale. She looks at me, then at Annaliese, and I can see the realization hit her like a wave.

“Amaarae—” I start, my voice rough, but she’s already moving.

She takes a step back, her hand knocking against the small table in the hallway. The vase on it wobbles precariously before toppling to the ground with a shattering crash.

She doesn’t stop to look at it. Her footsteps echo down the hallway as she runs, her figure disappearing into the shadows.

“Lucas?” Annaliese’s voice pulls me back, but I’m already moving.

“Stay here,” I say quickly, pulling on my pants and heading for the door.

I follow the sound of her footsteps, my heart pounding in my chest. I don’t know what I’m going to say when I catch her—maybe I won’t say anything at all. Maybe it’s too late.

“Amaarae!” I call, my voice echoing through the empty halls.

She doesn’t stop. I hear the slam of a door, and when I round the corner, I see her standing just inside her room.

“Wait,” I say, reaching out, but the door closes with a heavy thud, and the sharp click of the lock follows.

I press my palm against the door, my chest heaving. “Amaarae,” I say again, softer this time. “Let me in.”

There’s no answer.

“I didn’t mean for you to see that,” I try, my voice low. “Just—can we talk?”

Still nothing.

I lean my forehead against the door, closing my eyes. “Please,” I whisper.

The silence stretches, heavy and unyielding. I wait, but I know she won’t respond. After a long moment, I step back, my hand falling to my side.

I stand there for what feels like an eternity before finally turning away. The hallway feels colder now, emptier.

When I return to my room, Annaliese is still there, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. “Lucas, what happened?”

“Nothing,” I say shortly, grabbing a shirt and pulling it on.

Her brows knit together. “It didn’t seem like anything.”

“Just drop it,” I snap, my voice harsher than I intended.

She flinches slightly but doesn’t push further.

I sit on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands. The image of Amaarae’s face keeps flashing in my mind—her wide eyes, the way she looked at me like I was a stranger.

The knot in my chest tightens, and I can’t shake the feeling that something important has shattered tonight—something I might never be able to fix.