A heavy silence settled over the room, thick and suffocating.
Augustine bit his lower lip, his chest tightening as realization dawned upon him.
Now, he understood. He finally saw where Charles's pain was rooted.
'Who hurt him this badly?' Augustine wondered, his heart aching at the thought. 'Who left Charles so terrified of love… so convinced that it would only end in heartbreak?'
Augustine swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in his throat before drawing in a slow, measured breath.
"Do… do you want a cold bottle of water?" he asked, his voice softer now, careful.
He knew pushing Charles any further would only make him retreat.
Besides, Augustine had noticed it—the way Charles's voice wavered, the raw pain hidden beneath his anger.
It wasn't just words. It was experience. A wound still fresh, still bleeding.
