Charlotte: Her Twisted Fate

Falling in Love

CHAPTER 3

Falling In Love

Charlotte POV

"So you can’t watch where you’re going?” she snapped, her voice sharp, cold. “Piece of trash.” The words hit harder than I expected. The hallway had mostly emptied by then, students already rushing into their classrooms, leaving only a few lingering eyes watching the scene unfold. I lowered my head immediately.

“Sorry,” I muttered, stepping aside, clutching my books closer, wishing I could just disappear.

“That was harsh,” he said, a slight smirk on his lips, but I caught something else too—something almost like disapproval. Or maybe I was just imagining it. Sophie didn’t seem to care.

“You know what, let’s just go,” she said, slipping her hand into his arm like it belonged there. Like they belonged together. But then—he pulled his hand away, effortlessly, almost like it meant nothing.

I blinked, surprised. A small scoff escaped me before I could stop it. Sophie’s head snapped toward me, her glare sharp enough to cut. Without another word, they walked away.

I stood there for a moment, my heart still racing, my thoughts completely scattered. I didn’t even know his name. But somehow, he had already taken up space in my mind.

Finding my class wasn’t easy. I wandered through unfamiliar hallways, turning corners that all looked the same, my earlier embarrassment slowly turning into frustration. That was when I saw her—a girl sitting just outside a classroom, leaning against the wall, scribbling something in her notebook like she had all the time in the world. She looked up as I approached, curious, calm.

“Um… excuse me,” I said, hesitating slightly. “Do you know where this class is?”

She glanced at the paper in my hand, then smiled. “Oh, that’s mine too,” she said, standing up. “Well… it would be, if I wasn’t kicked out.”

I blinked. “Kicked out?”

She grinned. “Long story. I talk too much.”

I couldn’t help it—I smiled.

“I’m Charlotte.”

“Lucy,” she replied easily. “Lucy Elliott.” And just like that, I wasn’t alone anymore. Lucy and I became close faster than I expected.

She was everything I wasn’t: confident, outspoken, unapologetically herself. Somehow, she made everything feel easier. Classes didn’t feel as overwhelming. Lunch wasn’t awkward. And for the first time since I got there, I started to feel like I could belong.

But then… there was him. Andrew. That was his name—the boy from the hallway, the one I couldn’t stop thinking about. We were in the same class, and every single time he spoke, I listened. Every time he laughed, I felt it. Every time he walked into a room, my heart reacted before my mind could catch up. Lucy noticed.

You like him,” she said one day, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I don’t,” I replied immediately.

She raised a brow.

“Charlotte.”

I sighed. “…maybe a little.”

She laughed. “A little? Please. You look at him like he hung the stars.” I looked away, embarrassed. Maybe she wasn’t wrong.

From that moment on, it became impossible to hide. I started showing up to his games—soccer, basketball—it didn’t matter. He stood out effortlessly, like he was made for attention, and I gave it to him willingly.

I cheered louder than anyone else, made sure he noticed me, brought him water after games, helped him in class when he didn’t understand something. Sometimes, I even did his assignments.

I told myself it was nothing, that I just wanted to help. But deep down, I knew the truth. I liked him, more than I should.

Sophie noticed too, of course. She always did. Growing up, I had been like her shadow, doing whatever she wanted, giving her whatever she asked for. She took, and I gave.

She was my older sister in everything but blood. She was my adoptive sister. That was how it had always been. But Andrew? He was different. He wasn’t something I was willing to give up. And Sophie wasn’t willing to step back either. They were always together, always laughing, always close—too close. The school had already labeled them a couple, perfect, untouchable, and every time I heard it, my chest tightened.

By my third year, I couldn’t take it anymore. Keeping everything inside was exhausting. It hurt too much. Lucy saw it.

“You need to tell him,” she said one afternoon.

“What if he rejects me?” I asked quietly.

“Then at least you’ll know. But what if he doesn’t?”

That “what if” stayed with me for days, weeks, until I couldn’t ignore it anymore. Sophie had left early that day, which actually worked in my favor.

So I did it.