Page 63 of Her Nightshade

She only shook her head, tears spilling over, like she was afraid to say the words.

“Tell me, Ana! I’m dying each day you pull further away from me. Is it because you don’t love me anymore? Just say it. Just tell me,” I said, dropping to my knees beside the bed, gripping her hand.

She shook her head harder now, her breathing uneven. “I do love you, Charlie. More than anything.”

Her voice broke, and her sobs came fast and heavy. I stood up, my chest tightening, and grabbed the pocket knife off the dresser. Without thinking, I pressed it to my forearm, the sharp edge cold against my skin.

“Stop!” she demanded, jumping off the bed towards me, her voice trembling with panic.

“Then tell me why you’re being so distant, Ana. I can’t take it. If you leave me, it will kill me. Don’t you know that?” I yelled, the knife biting into my skin just enough to sting.

“I’m trying to protect you, Charlie! Please. Just trust me. I’m not leaving you!”

Her words didn’t make sense, but the desperation in her voice made me freeze. Slowly, I lowered the blade. Her hands came up to wrap around my wrist, gently pulling it from my grip and setting it back on the dresser. She didn’t let go of me, her fingers trembling as they pressed against my skin.

“You’re my everything,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Don’t hide from me, Ana. Whatever this is, we can get through it together.”

She nodded quickly, too quickly, but her silence lingered. Her eyes darted to the side, just for a second, before she whispered, “I love you. I’m not going anywhere. You have to believe me.”

I wanted to believe her. I wanted to feel the certainty in her voice wrap around my chest and pull the panic out of me. But there was something in her eyes, something she wasn’t saying.

Her phone vibrated softly on the nightstand. She flinched, pulling back just slightly, like she didn’t want me to notice.

“You’re hiding something,” I said quietly.

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t look at me. “You have to trust me, Charlie. Please.”

Her phone vibrated again, the faint sound pulling my attention like a magnet. She glanced at it nervously, her jaw clenching. We both looked back at each other, almost like a stand off to who would get to it first.

“Ana,” I said sharply, my heart racing. “Who’s texting you at this hour?”

Her shoulders tensed, and she didn’t answer.

“Ana,” I said again, stepping closer, my voice dropping to a low whisper. “What aren’t you telling me?”

The look on her face, fear and resignation all at once, was enough to send dread through me.

“Charlie, please…you just have to trust me,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“No.” My voice came out harder than I meant it to. “This—whateverthisis—it’s eating you alive, Ana. And it’s eating me alive, too. You’re crying in locked bathrooms. You’re pulling away from me. And now someone’s texting you in the middle of the fucking night?”

Her breathing hitched as she looked down at her hands. “It’s nothing. It’s just…work stuff,” she said weakly, her tone so unconvincing it made me angrier.

I grabbed her phone off the nightstand before she could stop me, my thumb already pressing on the screen.

“Charlie, no!” she gasped, lunging for it.

But it was too late. The message was right there, burning into my brain:

Why haven’t you left him yet? Time’s running out.

I stared at the text, my heart pounding. “Who the fuck sent this?”

“Charlie, give it back!” she pleaded, tears spilling over as she reached for the phone.

I stepped back, holding it out of reach. “No. You’re going to tell me right now who sent this. Is it Callan? Someone else? Ana, who?”

Her lips trembled, but she didn’t answer.

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