You do not hate me
Charlotte’s POV
“You do not hate me,” Luther said, stepping closer like he had every right.
Before I could react, his hands grabbed my arms, and in one pull, I was against his chest.
“Let me go!” I shouted, struggling hard to break free. My body twisted, pushing back, but his grip only grew stronger.
“I am not letting go until you forgive me,” he said, holding me tighter.
“I swear I will scream if you do not let me go!” My voice rose, filled with panic and fury. Being this close to him brought back everything I had been trying to erase, his touch, the way he made me feel before he broke me.
“Then scream,” he said slowly. I stopped fighting. That voice, how he said it, hit something deep inside me. It was the same way he used to speak when he touched me, when I felt like he was the only one who could ever reach me. I shut my eyes and breathed slowly, trying not to fall back into that place. Not now.
“I thought so.” He gave a short laugh, thinking he had won something. He had no idea I was just holding myself together by a thread.
“Let me go,” I repeated, this time slower and harsher.
“Charlotte…”
“Do not say my name,” I snapped, cutting him off. “You do not deserve to speak about it. You lost that right the moment you touched her the way you used to touch me.” His hands dropped. I staggered back a few steps, my chest rising and falling with the anger still burning inside me.
“How dare you?” My voice rose again, cracked but loud. “Do you think saying sorry will fix this?”
“I told you…” he began, running a hand through his hair, “I only did it because I was trying to forget about you.” I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “Really? What is your reason? You wanted to forget me, so you slept with someone else?” He said nothing, eyes watching me carefully.
“How many others?” I asked.
“What?” he said, brows pulling together.
“How many women have you slept with since me? One? Two? More?” I crossed my arms, trying to stop my hands from trembling. “Would you be calm if I told you I let another man into my bed just to forget about you?” His jaw tightened, and something shifted in his eyes, but I went on.
“Do not worry. I am not asking for an answer. Because at the end of the day, we are not together, are we? You are free to do whatever you want.”
My voice cracked on the last word, and I hated that I sounded like I was breaking. I blinked fast, willing the tears to stay where they were.
“But you are allowed to be angry at me?” he asked, voice softer now. “You have every right, Charlotte.”
“No. I don’t.” I looked down, feeling like everything I had prepared to say was slipping away. My strength, my pride, they were folding under the weight of his presence.
“That is why I came,” he said, stepping forward slowly. “Because I know I hurt you. And I want to fix it. I want to make things right. What I mean is... I want you back.” I looked at him like he had grown two heads.
“You want me back?” I laughed, the sound dry and humourless. “You? You think you can just claim me like nothing happened?”
“I am serious,” he said, his gaze locked on mine.
“Well, I am serious too. The answer is no.” I swallowed hard, the words stinging as they left my mouth. He had crushed something inside me, something that would not be repaired with apologies or sweet words. If he wanted me back, he would have to crawl through the pain he caused and prove it with more than just promises.
“Charlotte, please,” he said softly.
I shut my eyes, my throat tightening. It hurt. But I would rather live with the ache than hand him the pieces of my heart again without knowing he could hold them without breaking them.
"You cannot just treat me however you like and expect me to forgive you as if nothing happened. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a date to prepare for. Or have you forgotten that my mum’s wedding is right around the corner?"
I spun on my heel and walked away without looking back, though I could feel his eyes drilling into my back. The weight of his gaze lingered even after I shut the door behind me. I locked it, then leaned against it, closing my eyes tightly as if that could hold the tears in. But it did not.
The tears slipped out anyway, warm and heavy, rolling down my cheeks as though they were carrying pieces of me with them. It felt like something inside me had broken the moment I told him no. Like I had ripped my own heart out just to protect it.
"I know it hurts," Kate’s voice pulled me into a soft reality as she rushed to wrap her arms around me. She must have guessed from my expression that I had turned him down.
"Then why," I whispered, my throat thick with emotion, "do I feel like running back out there and telling him I forgive him?"
She held me tighter and gently ran her fingers through my hair. "Because you still care," she said softly. "But caring about someone does not mean you should forget what they did to you. This pain, it needs to teach him something. Otherwise, he will never change."
I let her guide me back to the dining table, where we had been scrolling through a dating site earlier, looking for someone who could be my plus-one to Mum’s wedding. Not just anyone, someone mature, charming, and confident. Someone who would make Luther boil with jealousy. Kate's idea had sounded crazy at first, but now, sitting there with swollen eyes and a heart full of anger, it felt like the only way I could even score.
"Okay, look at this one," Kate said, pointing to her screen. "CEO. I Live in the city. Says he is less than a mile away. Handsome too, not as hot as Luther, but honestly, he gives a serious vibe. Think we should try?"
I studied the pictures on his profile. He looked decent, successful, clean-cut. Not my usual type, but I was not looking for love. I was looking to shake Luther to his core.
"What have I got to lose?" I said quietly.
"That’s the spirit!" Kate beamed, hitting the like button. "Now, let us see if he likes you back." We waited in silence.
Ping! A notification popped up. Kate gasped. "He matched you back already! That was fast!" She high-fived me before I could process what was happening. "He even messaged! Listen, ‘Hi, beautiful.’ Oooh, he is smooth."
I did not say anything. My mind was still stuck on Luther, his voice, his arms, his pain... my pain. But I stayed silent as Kate typed back.
"He’s asking to meet up," she said, eyes wide and mischievous. "He is bold. What do you think?"
My heart pounded. Was I really about to meet a stranger just to make another man jealous? Kate raised an eyebrow, waiting for my answer.
I gave the tiniest nod. "Say yes." She did not hesitate. She typed the reply and hit send.
A few seconds later, his response came in. More compliments. More flirty lines. Kate searched his name online, and we found just enough to confirm he was legit, wealthy, well-connected, and surprisingly private. He reminded me of Luther in a way, which only added fuel to the fire burning inside me. I took a breath and told myself this was just a game. A game to make Luther realise what he lost. But even games have winners and losers. As Kate grinned beside me, her eyes gleaming with revenge and excitement, she whispered with a wicked smile,
"Let us make him regret every second he thought you were easy to let go." And just like that, I knew, this was not about finding love. This was war.
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