Chapter 3 Suman
Iwalked out of the library. His words tied strange knots in my stomach. The hair on my arms stood straight in shock. Then suddenly, I felt a warm, rough palm seize my arm.
He pulled me back into the library. My eyes widened in shock, my breath faltered, and my heartbeat raced.
“Never do that again,” he said, shaking his head. His gaze was intense and angry, raising the temperature between us.
I swallowed hard in fear, struggling to speak.
“What?” I stuttered, drawing my hand from his deadly grip, and stepped back.
My eyes betrayed my mind, fixating on his neck. A thick mole, slightly to the right of the centre of his neck, held my sight.
As he pulled me back, I glanced away, bumping my shoulder into his bare chest.
Butterflies erupted in my stomach, and his words, coated in a deep and low voice, “That I’m sending someone else,” twisted my gut.
I blinked nervously. The words hung in my throat as I tried to speak, “I did not mean—”
“Don’t act smart,” he cut me off. His voice had never affected me like this.
“I’m sorry,” I quickly replied. My voice came out shaky.
I tried to step away from him, but he held my wrist again, gentler this time. The bangles tinkled on my wrist as he took his fingers back. I lifted my gaze, staring into his eyes, scrutinising my hand.
My throat went dry. I felt his palm curl around my forearm and glide until it reached my elbow.
A shiver ran through my body when he slipped his finger into the hem of my blouse’s sleeve.
“Wh... what are you doing?” I fumbled, stepping away, but he hushed me down.
A wave of fright rushed through my body, and I stood frozen under his light grip. He slid the sleeve of my blouse halfway and gently brushed his thumb along my arm, slowly yet captivatingly.
“I met a priest, and he suggested I…” he said, taking a few steps away before moving even nearer with a black thread.
I gulped nervously when he tied the thread around my left arm thrice while saying. “It’ll help you with the nightmares.”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe in such things,”
He gazed into my eyes, scanning me to the folds of my former existence, and tied it securely so it would never come off.
“You don’t believe in God?” he intoned, and I shook my head. “Why?” he questioned.
“Because he did nothing great in my life that he could take credit for,” I replied, and he smirked at the end.
“You’re standing here alive before me. Do you think that happened without God’s help?” he asked, and I shook my head.
No.
If he wanted me alive, he wouldn’t have let me go there.
After a long silence, I asked, “If you believe in God, why are you afraid to give love another chance?”
He lifted his intense gaze and stared sharply into my eyes. It stripped me bare, leaving me weak in the knees.
But there was a magnetic force that kept me comfortable in his presence, and I couldn’t stop looking into those dark green eyes. His eyebrows were moderately thick; his lashes were long. I could feel our breathing was shallow.
“You might know that love is not a bed of roses,” he drawled, his gaze lowering to my lips. It made me feel even weaker. Attracted.
Maybe.
“Only adjusting you around the waist is certainly not love. So I wouldn’t know,” I murmured, feeling his grip tighten around my arm and his expression harden.
“Then you shouldn’t speak of it,” he gritted, and I lowered my gaze to his lips moving as words flowed out in his deep voice, a source of madness and safety in my nightmares, that had preserved me amidst the inferno. The voice that now turned my world around on a different axis—his voice.
“I’m just trying to shift your perspective. I can’t say for certain, but marriage can be a nightmare without love… I’m speaking from experience,” I tried to express, my voice trembling.
A half-smile lingered on his face.
“So, a second chance, huh?” he asked, and I felt intimidated by his words. Though I nodded. Unconsciously.
“And what if it happens again?” he asked in a low voice, knitting his brows together. His thumb kept gently brushing the knot on my arm.
“Why would it happen again? You’re getting married to her; you two will be together,” I said. My chest tightened when I mentioned the word ‘married.’
He smiled slightly, let go of my arm, and nodded.
I clenched my fists and looked away when he leaned closer, whispering, “Someone is acting like a good wife. Are you…falling for me?”
His words sank deep into my ears, stirring my dormant senses and creating an intense sensation before I abruptly stepped back from him.
“No!” I exclaimed. “I’m just…saying,” lowering the sleeve of my blouse before walking out of the library.
“Prove it,” he said, following me out of the library, and I turned to look at him.
“What?” I asked.
“That you are not falling for me? You don’t care about me,” he said, walking past me to sit on the couch, where his dinner awaited him.
“I’m not,” I stated.
“Ugh… I don’t want to eat all this. I don’t even like these,” he said, looking at the food.
My eyes widened, and I shook my head in disbelief.
Seriously, I stayed up this late to see his tantrums?
“I brought everything you like. There are no beans, no pickles. There’s jaggery, raw onion, and everything you enjoy,” I blurted in haste, glancing at the plate again.
“See, I’ve caught you,” he smiled. “You know everything I like.”
I immediately stepped back in disbelief.
“Well… that’s…” I stammered. “… that’s because I’ve been taking care of you and your family for quite a while now,” my chest heaved anxiously, and he smirked at me.
“Not at midnights, half-wife.”
My body froze.
What the hell did he say?
Words hung on my tongue.
I immediately rolled up my sleeves and said, “You brought me this, so should I take it as a sign that you’re falling for me, too?”
He looked at my arm before looking back at me.
“Keep it covered, okay? It will help.” His voice suddenly became concerned.
I dragged the sleeve down, saying, “I should go.”
This didn’t feel right.
I turned to walk away, but he called, “Suno!” “Hey!”
I looked back at him.
“Stay,” he said, and I inhaled deeply, shaking my head.
“Someone will get suspicious,” I replied.
“Wow, wisdom came, albeit late,” he mocked, and I sighed in frustration. “Come on,” he said, and I couldn’t explain why my feet moved toward him as he gestured for me to sit on the couch across from him.
“I cannot,” I said, gulping nervously, shaking my head, fisting the couch’s backrest.
He insisted, gesturing for me to sit. Again.
I bit my lower lip, clenched my hands on my skirt, and walked around before sitting on the couch. He leaned forward, tore off a tiny piece of chapatti, and began eating after keeping it in the corner.
“Can I ask you something?” I asked softly, and he nodded. “What does ‘dinner not dinner’ mean?” I murmured, and he smirked, pointing at the food with his index finger.
“Dinner,” he said, then lifted his finger toward me and repeated slowly, “Dinner.”
I immediately stood up from the couch; my heart raced like a horse.
“Are you…” Mad? The words hung in my throat.
Smiling, he said, “As I said, I’m not in the mood today. You can calm down.”
I shook my head mentally, not believing it.
How could he say that? He was to be married in less than six months. And what was I doing here?
“Are you okay?” he asked, catching my attention,
The silence followed. His change of tone reminded me of his teasing nature.
He was teasing me.
I nodded. “Yes, it’s just the memory won’t fade away,” I said, and he nodded in understanding.
“Try distracting your brain somewhere else,” he suggested, taking another bite.
I bit my lower lip, unsure of where to put it. “Like what?”
He smirked. “Like being… dinner,”
I sighed, rolling my eyes. I couldn’t believe it. How could he talk like that?
I shot him a glare. “I pity your wife.”
He cocked his left eyebrow at me. “Really?” while taking another bite, and I nodded.
“Yes, no girl would ever want her husband flirting with another woman. She’d be devastated. You need to be loyal to her,” I tried to explain, and he looked at me, responding while taking a deep breath.
“Says the one who is becoming a hurdle in that cause?”
I furrowed my brows, not understanding him. “What do you mean?”
He pushed the plate away, and I could sense he had gotten angry as he replied. “If you keep coming here, talking to me, and thinking about me, I won’t be loyal to her. Not at all. We’ll have to forget that, and you can’t keep coming here,” he said, more like an order, leaving me agape.
“You asked me to stay,” I reminded him.
“Ah, th… that’s because you wanted it,” he retorted.
I inhaled sharply. “And since when did a royal prince care about the wants of a maid?” I raised my voice.
He stood up and paced toward me rather quickly. Before I could process it, he took the dagger out of the sheath and placed it at my neck.
My eyes widened with shock. My back pressed against the couch as he cornered me against it, putting his foot on either side of my feet.
I felt weak in my knees, leaning back, longing for distance, and terrified.
“Don’t make me do amends in my good deeds, half-wife,” he said, clenching his jaw, his voice low, bringing tears of fear into my eyes.
“Don’t call me that.” Yet, I stood firm on my ground. He couldn’t call me that.
His eyes softened, and his gaze followed the tear rolling down my cheek. He lowered the dagger from my neck and said slowly, shaking his head, “Please… leave.”
His words chilled me as if an ocean wave had hit me hard. Freezing me.
I stepped back with a promise to myself and turned my head away from him.
I’m never going to see him again.
I left his chamber, wiping a tear from my cheek.
Why did I go to him? I should’ve seen it coming. He was the prince, and I was just a maid.
I was becoming a problem in his marriage. What was wrong with me? I ran to my room and wrapped myself in the comforter.
Why was I even crying? I tried to focus on my breathing and think about how to avoid him in the future. I didn’t understand why I always seemed to sleep better after crying.
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