“Do you really want to talk about timing, in times like these?” Your voice rang out, raw with frustration, leaving Charles frozen in place, his wide-eyed expression betraying his confusion. The room felt heavy, weighed down by the tension that had built up over the year of hiding, of secrets, of shadowed corners where no one could see you together.

He was a wimp — maybe a wimp in love, but still a wimp. You had bitten your tongue, made excuses, accepted his fears as justifiable. But tonight, something inside you snapped. His reluctance to show the world what you had was no longer tolerable. This, you realized, was your breaking point.

“Is it really your fear that stops you from giving me everything? Or do you just not want to?” you demanded, your voice rising, trembling with the weight of all the emotions you’d suppressed. The words hung between you, sharp and undeniable, cutting through the fragile thread that had been holding you both together. Charles’s face softened for a moment, but he couldn’t answer fast enough. And the silence spoke louder than any excuse ever could.