The Billionaire's Regret { Regret Series #1}

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

PLEASE LOVE ME AGAIN

As the door closed behind him, Charles felt the weight of the world crashing down on his shoulders. The bitter taste of despair lingered on his tongue as he stumbled towards the kitchen, his hands shaking with a mix of anger and sorrow. His heart felt as though it had been ripped apart by the realization that Kathleen would never want him back.

In the dimly lit kitchen, Charles reached for the nearest bottle of alcohol, his trembling fingers grasping it tightly. With a flick of his wrist, the cap came off, and the burning liquid poured into his glass. The amber liquid seemed to offer him solace, albeit temporary, in this moment of desolation.

On the cold tile floor, Charles crumpled, the weight of his melancholy bearing down on him like a boulder. Tears streamed down his face as his thoughts swirled in a chaotic storm of memories and regrets. He raised the glass to his lips, the liquid stinging his throat as if it was echoing the pain in his heart.

"Kathleen," he sobbed, the syllables barely escaping his trembling lips. "Please, forgive me. I never meant to hurt you, please love me again."

Unbeknownst to Charles, his best friend David had just returned from an overseas business trip that Charles had orchestrated for him. The sound of Charles' cries met David's ears even before he had the chance to fully close the door behind him. Concern etched into his brow, he moved swiftly towards his distraught friend.

As David rounded the corner into the kitchen, his gaze fell upon the scene before him, a wave of sympathy washing over him. Charles, disheveled and fractured, sat on the floor, the remnants of alcohol staining his trembling hands.

"Charles," David called out softly, his voice laden with concern. "What happened?"

Charles lifted his sorrow-filled eyes to meet David's, his tear-streaked face a portrait of anguish. He mumbled incoherently, as if the weight of his despair had rendered him unable to articulate his pain. Without hesitation, David stepped forward and gently took Charles by the arm, helping him rise unsteadily to his feet.

"Come on, buddy," David urged, his voice filled with compassion. "Let's get you back to your room. You can't keep tormenting and punishing yourself like this."

Numbly, Charles allowed himself to be guided towards his own room. The familiar surroundings seemed distant, as if seen through a fog of anguish and confusion. David helped Charles onto his bed, the weight of the world bowing his friend's frail stature.

For hours, Charles laid there, his mind swirling in a torrent of emotions. Every memory, every glimpse of Kathleen's smile, flashed vividly in his mind, intensifying the ache in his chest. He whispered words of regret, scattering them like wilted petals into the abyss.

Meanwhile, David settled himself in the guest room, his thoughts consumed by the fragile state of his friend. He knew that Charles needed time to heal, but he also knew that this self-destructive path would lead nowhere. Something had to be done to help navigate Charles back from the treacherous precipice of despair.