The Panic
1253 Words
Chapter 2: The Panic
Anne’s POV
The moment Charles’s eyes flew open, my heart almost stopped beating. For one terrifying second, we just stared at each other, his breath warm against my face. Then his lashes fluttered, his gaze unfocused, and he fell back onto the pillow with a soft groan.
His eyes closed again.
He began snoring.
I exhaled shakily. Thank the Moon Goddess. It meant he didn’t fully wake up. It meant he didn’t truly see me. It meant there was still a chance he remembered nothing.
I slipped off the bed as quietly as I could, every muscle in my body aching from the night before. The pain between my legs made each step feel like fire, but I gritted my teeth and kept moving. I had to get to the maid chambers before anyone noticed I was gone.
I pushed open the door, only to nearly collide with Helena.
She stood there with narrowed eyes, arms folded tightly across her chest. She was the head maid, and for a reason I would never understand, she despised me more than rotten fruit.
“And where are you coming from, walking like that?” she snapped.
My stomach twisted.
I could not afford to slip. I could not afford to reveal anything.
“I… I…” My mouth failed me.
“You what?” She stepped closer, studying my face as though she could peel the truth right off my skin. One wrong word, and my world would burn.
“I came from the prince’s room,” I said quickly. “I went to check if he was awake so I could clean up.”
She stared at me long enough to make my palms sweat.
“And is he awake?” Her voice had a bite of sarcasm in it.
I shook my head.
She scoffed loudly, her annoyance filling the whole hallway. “Then go clean his room. Now.”
“Yes, Helena.”
Her yelling no longer frightened me. It was almost routine.
I hurried to the storage room, grabbed supplies, and made my way back to Charles’s chamber. I prayed he was still asleep. I prayed he wouldn’t wake before I removed every trace of last night.
I knocked softly. No response.
I pushed the door open.
He was still asleep, breathing steadily, the morning light brushing across his bare shoulders. I forced myself not to look at him too long. I needed to work. I needed to erase the evidence.
I gathered his clothes from the night before and started cleaning. But my heartbeat never settled. What if he woke up now? What if he remembered something? What if he accused me of taking advantage of him?
No, no, no. I couldn’t allow that.
I finished cleaning faster than I ever had in my life and hurried out, promising myself I would return once he left so I could remove the sheet with the blood stain.
In the kitchen, Bridget walked in just as I slammed a spoon into the pot.
“Hey, you look like a disaster this morning,” she said lightly. “Where were you all night?”
My heart jumped.
“I slept in the storage room,” I lied quickly, avoiding her eyes.
“The storage room?” She frowned. “I was there this morning and didn’t see you.”
My hands shook. The knife slipped and nicked my finger.
“Ouch!”
“Oh my goodness, Anne.” Bridget rushed over, grabbing a tissue and pressing it to my skin. “Are you okay?”
“I am… just tired,” I muttered.
She studied me with concern. “Maybe you should ask the prince for a day off. You two are close, he’ll understand.”
At the sound of his name, my stomach twisted painfully.
“No… no, I’ll be fine. Really.”
Before she could say more, another maid rushed in.
“Anne, the prince needs you now.”
My blood went cold.
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know. He just said he needs you.”
I swallowed hard. This was it. He remembered something. He found the sheet. He knew.
I forced my legs to move, even though they felt like jelly. When I reached his door, I knocked gently.
“Charles…?” My voice came out weak.
He didn’t answer, so I stepped inside.
He stood by the window, a towel wrapped around his waist, water still dripping down his hair. He looked impossibly handsome, and that only worsened my panic.
“Charles,” I whispered.
He didn’t turn around.
“How did I get here last night?” he asked suddenly.
My heart stopped.
So he didn’t remember everything. He remembered nothing at all.
Relief and fear collided inside me.
“Well,” I forced myself to say, “your friends brought you. They also helped you out of your clothes. I didn’t see anything.”
He finally turned, studying my face.
“You sound strange. Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’ll go mix your bathwater.”
I hurried into the bathroom, nearly collapsing with relief. But when I stepped back out, my eyes landed on the bed…
The sheet.
I hadn’t removed it.
Panic rushed through me. I needed to change it before he noticed the stain. Before he questioned anything.
“Please clean my dressing room,” he said just before leaving for his bath.
The moment he disappeared, I rushed to strip the sheet and hide it. But when I turned around…
It was gone.
No. No, no, no.
“I left it right here.” My breath trembled. “Where is it?”
I searched everywhere, but it had vanished.
“Anne.”
I froze.
His voice was right behind me.
I turned… and nearly choked on my breath.
He stood there dripping from the shower, droplets sliding down his skin, hair pushed back, eyes sharp and curious.
“You are drooling again,” he teased lightly. “I know I’m handsome but try to control yourself.”
“I wasn’t!” I squeaked.
He chuckled and walked past me toward the wardrobe.
But then he pulled something out.
A cloth.
A sheet.
My heart sank to my feet.
“Anne, what is this?” he asked calmly.
I stared at the sheet in his hands, the faint red stain visible even from where I stood.
The room spun.
My throat tightened.
Every excuse vanished.
He raised the sheet slightly. “Why didn’t you tell me what I did?”
My legs nearly gave out.
“Charles,” I whispered, “I… I didn’t mean to… take advantage of you.”
His eyes softened immediately. “Anne, come on. It’s my fault. All of it.”
He stepped closer and gently pulled me into a hug.
“I am the one who should be apologizing,” he murmured. “I should never have gotten that drunk. I’m sorry, Anne.”
My heart broke at how sincere he sounded.
He pulled back and touched my shoulder.
“Can we forget what happened? For the sake of our friendship?”
Forget?
Forget the night I had dreamed about for years?
Forget the moment he finally looked at me like I mattered?
Forget the only memory of him that felt like mine?
Still, I forced myself to smile.
“Yes… we should forget it.”
He smiled in relief.
And that was the moment I felt something inside me shatter.
- Writer
