Charlotte's POV
Walking down the hills, with my sword right in my arms, the heavy rain seemed to soak right through me, but oddly, it only fueled my mood to train. It's been quite a while since I trained my soldiers under the rain. The cold droplets cascading down my face blended with the raw determination surging through me. I wiped my face with my palm as water began to blur my vision, but my feet kept moving down the steep, muddy path, my grip on the sword tightening with each step.
"Charlotte."
I heard a familiar voice from behind, low yet distinct through the pounding of the rain. But I kept walking, my eyes fixed on the field below, where my soldiers awaited. I had no room for distractions, no space in my chest for conversations, especially not now—not today.
"Charlotte."
His voice called again, firmer this time, slicing through the storm. My patience snapped like a strained rope. I turned sharply, my hand gripping the hilt of my sword tightly, ready to shove him off without hesitation, prepared to unleash the storm boiling within me.
"Stephen."
His name slipped from my lips in a low, reluctant tone, my voice trembling against my will, the cold suddenly amplifying the chill crawling down my spine. My lips quivered, the water dripping steadily from my face, but it wasn't the rain stealing my composure. It was him—the man standing before me. His soaked shirt clung to his body, outlining every sharp edge of his muscles, the water streaming down his chiseled jaw making him look… magnificent. My heart betrayed me with a slight stutter.
"I'm sorry."
His words broke through the tension, and he took a slow step closer, the sincerity in his eyes raw, stripped of pride. But my lips refused to respond, my throat locked tight, as though I'd forgotten how to speak entirely.
"It's all in the past now."
I forced the words out, my voice steady yet brittle as glass, and instinctively, I took a few steps back, distancing myself. His apologies felt heavy, like they carried a magnetic force threatening to pull me into his arms, and I wasn't ready to crumble.
"Charlotte, you can't just throw all the beautiful moments we had together away. We passed through thick and thin. We were rod and armor for each other—would you let all those moments sink into the trash just in a split second?"
His voice cracked with desperation, each word dripping with pleading sincerity. His eyes locked onto mine, their depths mirroring the turbulent rainstorm surrounding us. His expression carved with pain, yet hope clung stubbornly to his features.
I rushed towards him, anger pounding in my chest like war drums, my footsteps fast and heavy through the muddy ground, frustration fueling my every stride.
"Yes. Yes, you heard me right!" I snapped, standing close enough to feel his breath mixing with the rain. My voice cut through the downpour like a blade. "I am more than ready to throw every single thing, every single memory, into the abyss—even bury it so deep, it would never, ever resurface."
My throat tightened with raw emotion, but I pushed through the ache clawing at my chest. "Even my mom doesn't know me half the way you do. You know what I hated the most—and yet, you rubbed it on my face. You stepped on me… you made a fool out of me—"
"I was only afraid of this moment," he cut me short, his voice cracking, urgency dripping from every word. His eyes were glassy, filled with regret, his shoulders tense as though holding back years of buried emotions. "Of every single thing we ever built crumbling… I didn't want that."
I didn't need to hear his excuses, his gibberish spinning in circles. I wasn't here for empty words.
"Stephen…" My voice broke slightly, bitterness riding on the edges. "The only reason this hurts so much is because I loved you."
My throat ached, my lips trembling again despite my efforts to stay composed. "I trusted you with my life, Stephen. You were the very first man I ever loved…"
"Good morning, madam. Good morning…"
A different voice interrupted my thoughts, slicing the memory away like a blade. I slowly opened my eyelids, frustration simmering beneath my skin as reality bled back in. The nurse's voice grew louder, her presence pulling me from the remnants of my dream—the past I was desperately trying to bury.
"I'm sorry to disturb your sleep, but I need you awake before I inject this drug."
Her words softened as she hovered beside the bed. I sat up slowly, a faint frown knitting my brows. She moved methodically, checking my vitals—the tools cold against my skin as she examined my eyes, heartbeat, and sugar levels.
"How are you feeling this morning?"
I stretched my hands, rotating my wrists experimentally. My limbs felt lighter, stronger—my body finally regaining its rightful rhythm. I slid off the bed cautiously, placing one foot on the ground, then the other, testing my balance.
"I think I should be on my way to the training area already. I'm all good," I replied with a light chuckle, walking back to the bed, the faint ache of sleep lingering in my muscles.
"You'll be discharged today, but I still advise you have a little bit of rest for a day or two before going fully into your activities," she advised, her voice carrying firm concern, though her eyes hinted I had the final say. She couldn't exactly force me—that much was clear.
"Okay," I simply replied, offering a polite nod. She smiled faintly, the corners of her lips curling into a slight smirk as she gestured for me to sit. She tied a robe-like material around my arm, cleaning the spot where the injection would go, her fingers brisk and practiced before she pierced the needle into my skin.
"I'll send food to you in a jiffy," she added as she gathered her tray, the clinking tools rattling softly before she walked out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
It felt good—more than good—to finally be back on my feet. A faint smirk tugged at my lips as I dressed the bed neatly, then strolled into the bathroom. But as soon as the door clicked behind me, unwelcome flashes of Jasper undressing me flooded my mind, his teasing eyes, his maddening confidence. I shook the images off with irritation and opted for a quick shower instead.
The warm water washed over me, easing the remaining tension from my body. I bathed quickly and dressed in the clothes I had arrived with. Thankfully, someone had taken the time to launder them, saving me the trouble.
"You're awake already."
Jasper's familiar voice pulled me from my thoughts as he entered the room, his gaze traveling over me with obvious approval.
"And you're obviously good right now," he continued, the faintest hint of amusement lacing his words. I didn't respond, keeping my expression neutral as I walked to the couch and sat down, fiddling with my fingers absentmindedly.
"Thanks, anyway," I muttered, the words falling from my lips as I focused on the soft fabric beneath my hands.
"That's not necessary. In the absence of anything else by the nurses, I think we should be on our way right now," he announced smoothly, rising to his feet with ease.
I stood up quietly, walking towards the door, my thoughts racing yet carefully hidden behind my stoic expression.
He moved closer, standing beside me, and stretched his hand towards me, palm open, inviting, steady. I glanced at his hand, then at his face, confusion tightening my chest. His eyes were calm, yet unreadable, holding something deeper beneath the surface.
"Hold my hand."