♥ CHARLES' POV ♥
The sound of the restaurant door slamming echoed behind Charles as he stormed out into the chilly night. His jaw clenched tight, and his fists balled so hard his knuckles whitened. The veins in his forearms stood out, his breath coming in sharp bursts. Damn it. Damn it, Charles! he cursed inwardly, his boots striking hard against the pavement. You just sat there. You watched her break... and you did nothing.
The image of Ava kneeling on that cold restaurant floor, her voice trembling as she begged to keep her job, kept replaying in his head like a broken record. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. You had every chance to stop it. You could've said something. But you didn't. You froze like a goddamn coward.
"Charles!"
He didn't even need to turn around to know that voice-it was Britney. Her heels clicked quickly behind him as she tried to catch up. "Charles, wait! Where are you going?"
He didn't stop walking. He didn't even look at her. When her hand reached for his arm, he jerked away sharply.
"Fuck off," he said, his tone low but edged like glass.
Britney froze mid-step, eyes wide. "Excuse me?" she hissed. "Lots of men would love to be in your position, you know!"
Charles gave no response. He reached his car, pulled the door open, and got inside without so much as glancing at her. The roar of the engine drowned out her angry shouting as he pulled away from the curb, tires screeching against the wet asphalt.
"Unbelievable," Britney muttered under her breath, her voice trembling with fury. "How could he just leave me like this? Does he even care about our relationship?" Her eyes narrowed, venom glinting in them. "He'll come crawling back... they always do."
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♥ MEANWHILE, IN THE CAR ♥
The city lights blurred into long streaks of gold and red through Charles' teary vision. His grip on the steering wheel was so tight it looked like the leather might tear. His reflection in the rearview mirror was a stranger-eyes bloodshot, jaw trembling with anger and guilt.
"Britney..." he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "I can't stand that woman anymore." He exhaled shakily, resting his elbow against the window. "She gets off on making others miserable." His voice cracked slightly.
His chest tightened as Ava's face flashed in his mind, the look of humiliation and pain in her eyes. "And Ava..." He swallowed hard. "She didn't deserve that. Not one bit."
The guilt sat heavy in his chest like a stone. You just sat there, Charles. You watched her get fired. You watched her cry. And you did nothing. His throat tightened. "I'm a fucking coward," he muttered, his voice barely audible.
He rubbed his eyes, trying to stop the tears that threatened to fall. "I can't let this slide. I owe her something. Anything."
As he drove aimlessly through the city, headlights flickering past, an idea slowly crept into his mind, so simple it almost made him laugh. He sat up straight, smirking faintly. "Wait a second... Andrew's shop." His smirk grew wider. "That might just work."
Without wasting another second, he turned the car around sharply, the tires squealing as he changed direction. The thought of making things right, finally doing something, pushed him forward.
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A few minutes later, Charles was standing in front of a small, slightly run-down apartment building. He climbed the narrow stairs two steps at a time until he reached the familiar brown door. Without hesitation, he began pounding on it.
"Hey, Andrew! Open the damn door!"
After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing a sleepy, disheveled Andrew in a baggy T-shirt and boxers, rubbing his eyes. "What the hell, man? It's 11 p.m.!" He yawned loudly. "You better have a good reason for waking me up."
Charles brushed past him, stepping inside like he owned the place. "I need your help with something."
Andrew blinked in disbelief as he shut the door. "Yeah, sure, come right in. Don't mind the fact that I was sleeping or anything."
Charles flopped down on the couch, stretching his legs out and resting them on the coffee table. "I'll make it quick."
Andrew scowled. "Get your dirty boots off my table, man!" He swatted Charles' legs away. "I swear, you only show up when you need me. Remind me why I'm still your friend again?"
Charles smirked, removing his feet as requested. "Because deep down, you love me."
"Uh-huh," Andrew muttered sarcastically. "So, what is it this time?"
Charles leaned back, folding his arms. "You must have an open position at that shop of yours, right?"
Andrew squinted. "Yeah, maybe one or two. Why?" He paused, and then his eyes went wide with amusement. "Wait a damn minute." He pointed a finger at Charles and started laughing so hard he almost choked. "Don't tell me you lost your temper again and got fired. What's next? You, stacking chips and sweeping floors?"
Charles rolled his eyes, trying not to laugh himself. "No, you dumbass! It's not for me." He hesitated briefly before adding, "It's for a... friend."
"Ohhh," Andrew said, dragging out the word with a grin. "A friend, huh? You could've said that from the start, man. I almost pissed myself from laughing."
Charles snorted softly but didn't rise to the bait.
Andrew rubbed his chin. "Alright, I'll talk to my boss tomorrow. I'll see if we can make it work. Shouldn't be a problem if she's decent."
Charles nodded once. "Thanks, man. You have no idea how much that helps."
Andrew grinned, but then his eyes narrowed mischievously. "But hold up." He leaned forward, studying Charles carefully. "Since when do you care enough to help someone out?"
Charles exhaled slowly, his expression hardening again. He didn't answer right away. He just looked down at the floor, the guilt flickering in his eyes.
"Maybe it's time I start," he muttered finally.
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♥ PRESENT ♥
Ava could feel her whole body tense under the unexpected warmth of Charles' arms around her. The scent of his cologne, something musky and faintly sweet, filled her lungs. Why is he suddenly so... kind? she wondered, her cheeks burning.
"Umm... could you let go of me now? I-I don't want to be late for my class." Her voice trembled as she spoke, trying to sound composed while her heart pounded hard against her ribs.
Charles blinked, as if suddenly realizing what he was doing. He quickly cleared his throat and stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. What the hell was that, Charles? he scolded himself silently. You're her teacher, not her damn savior.
Ava clutched her bag tightly and stared at the office door, avoiding his eyes. "Thank you for the job... It means a lot to me." She turned and hurried out before he could reply, her steps echoing down the hallway. Once outside, she leaned against the wall and took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Why does he want to help me? What's in it for him?
The corridor was quiet except for the faint hum of classroom chatter. Ava's shoes squeaked softly against the polished floor as she made her way toward her class. But halfway there, she stopped.
Her eyes caught on something that made her stomach drop. Down the hall, near the lockers, a group of boys were crowding around someone: Matthew. The quiet boy who never bothered anyone.
One of the boys, Mike, had him pinned against the wall, his fist drawn back. Jack and James, his usual goons, laughed behind him.
"C'mon, man, you're too slow! Didn't your mom teach you how to defend yourself?" Mike sneered, shoving Matthew again.
Ava froze in place, the ragged sound of Matthew's breathing echoing faintly. Why are they doing this? He's never hurt anyone...
When Mike turned and noticed her, his lips curled into a cruel grin. "Well, if it isn't the poorest rat in our school. What are you staring at, huh? You want to be next?"
Ava's pulse spiked. She shook her head quickly, clutching her bag close to her chest before sprinting off down the corridor. Why is no one stopping him? Why do teachers always look the other way?
By the time she reached her classroom, she was breathless. Her hands trembled as she gripped her desk, trying to calm herself. The classroom was half-empty, sunlight spilling across the clean desks. She slid into her usual corner seat, the one everyone avoided. The desk beside her, always empty.
Until now.
The door creaked open, and Matthew walked in, his face red and swollen on one side. Without saying a word, he sat beside her. Ava blinked in surprise. He actually sat next to me?
She glanced at him, eyes softening when she saw the bruise on his cheekbone. She wanted to speak, say something, anything, but her throat tightened. Instead, she just looked down at her notebook.
Moments later, the door opened again. The class fell into silence. Charles walked in, his usual serious expression returning as though nothing in the world had changed.
"Good morning, class," he said firmly, placing his books on the desk. His tone was calm, but Ava noticed something in his eyes, a faint shadow, a trace of guilt she couldn't quite place.
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Hours later, the last bell rang. The day felt like it had stretched into years. Ava stood outside the school gates, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag as she waited. He said he'd come... but what if he doesn't? She bit her lip nervously.
Her mind drifted back to Matthew, to the bruise, to her silence. I could've said something. I could've told the teacher. But instead, I just sat there like everyone else.
Her thoughts were cut short by the low hum of an engine. A sleek black car pulled up in front of her, a BMW, freshly waxed, the sunlight glinting off its polished surface. The windows were tinted, the interior leather shining faintly from the dashboard lights.
Charles rolled the window down, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Ava. Come on in."
She hesitated, then nodded, slipping inside. The scent of his cologne filled the small space again, mixed with the faint smell of expensive leather.
"Buckle your seatbelt, girl," Charles said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.
Ava fumbled for the seatbelt, her hands clumsy from nervousness. She finally clicked it in and whispered, "Thank you, Mr. Charles..."
He nodded, eyes fixed on the road as the car began to move. For a while, silence filled the air between them, comfortable, but heavy.
Then, without looking at her, he asked, "Do you have any siblings?"
Ava stiffened. Her fingers tightened around her skirt. "No... I don't." Her voice was quiet, flat. She hesitated before adding, "Don't ask about my family."
Charles glanced sideways, guilt flickering in his gaze. "I'm sorry. I just get curious sometimes. You're... a mystery."
The rest of the drive passed in silence, save for the quiet hum of the radio and the rhythm of tires on asphalt.
When they finally stopped in front of a modest shop, Ava's eyes widened in quiet amazement. It wasn't large, but it looked neat and organized, the glass windows reflecting the evening light.
"Thank you," she said softly, turning to face him. "For everything."
Charles smirked lightly. "Don't thank me. Thank my partner in crime, Andrew. He's the cashier."
They both stepped out of the car, the air cool against their faces.
"Come on," Charles said, pushing open the door. "I'll introduce you."
The bell above the door chimed softly as they entered. The shop smelled faintly of old cardboard, cleaning spray, and coffee. Ava's eyes scanned the aisles, until they froze.
There, behind the counter, stood a man. That man.
Her stomach dropped. The same slicked-back hair. The same smug expression. The same man who had given her the $7,000 that night, the one who had taken her dignity along with it.
The man's lips curved into a slow, predatory smirk when he saw her.
"Well, I'll be damned," he drawled, leaning against the counter. "Didn't expect to see you again." His voice lowered, dark amusement in his tone. "What's the matter? That desperate for another round?"
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TO BE CONTINUED...