Chapter 8
When she rushed out of my chamber, a wave of suspicion and regret coursed through me.
Did I do something wrong? Was she okay?
When she brought the dinner, her face appeared slightly pale and confused. Despite feeling a ton of happiness, she seemed a bit off. Perhaps she was tired, or maybe something was wrong.
I couldn’t guess.
But yes, her expression changed when she tasted the kheer. I furrowed my brows and lowered my gaze to the bowl. Dipping my finger again, I tasted it. It was perfect.
So what had happened to her?
She appeared happy when we made the list together in the kitchen. However, her expression changed when she arrived here.
I hoped someone hadn’t bothered her. Perhaps her dead husband’s family attempted to reach out to her.
Leaping from my couch, I hurried toward the authority of letters. I requested copies of all the letters we received last week. Despite reviewing each one, nothing appeared suspicious.
So what was she worried about? Was it about my talking to her?
She didn’t seem unhappy while talking to me; she only appeared irritated, which I liked because it distracted her from the past. Now she was doing better.
She seemed more engaged in her work and needed me less.
My teasing and irritation were other reasons she distanced herself from me, which benefited her.
At that moment, a relationship was the most harmful thing for her. Thus, I perceived my disloyal reputation and flirting as useful. This meant she wouldn't develop feelings for me if she kept getting annoyed with me.
However, something felt off about her today.
I returned to my chamber and lay on my bed, trying to sleep. However, I couldn’t, as thoughts of her battles and struggles swirled in my mind. I meant a woman who they forced and then abandoned, and who couldn’t truly live happily. How could anyone expect her to forget and be happy so easily?
No matter how much you run, your past always runs along behind you.
I palmed my face, unable to catch sleep, and finally gave up.
After taking a quick bath, I started writing letters to all the guests for the baby’s sixth-day feast. However, in the back of my mind, I couldn’t shake the image of that day when she was crying in my arms and then her refusal to live as a normal woman.
It just wouldn’t leave my mind; it kept hindering me.
Once I was done with the letters, I stepped outside to check on the preparations.
Yet, unconsciously, my eyes searched for her.
In the kitchen, I scanned all the women: short frame, honey skin, wavy hair, a big smile, beautiful red lips, a mole on her right cheek, and another on the left side of her neck.
She wore two red bangles on each wrist, had a tiny waist and a slim belly, and would show her frustration when she sensed my presence.
But even as the sun sank below the horizon, the winds turned chilly, the insects emerged, and the birds returned to their nests, I couldn’t find her.
With each passing moment, my heart beat a little faster at the thought of all the potential things that might have happened to her, rendering her unavailable.
What if she got hurt, sick, tense, depressed, or crying?
Oh no! No, no… that can’t happen.
As evening descended, I returned to my chamber. Rubbing my face, I sank into the couch and pondered ways to find her.
Did she go to visit her family? Still, there was no letter.
Suddenly, a thought popped into my mind, and I clapped twice. An attendant walked in, and I looked at her.
“I want dinner,” I said, and she nodded before leaving.
I smiled. She’ll come now.
I reminded myself to take a quick bath and change into my nightclothes: a simple dhoti and a loose white kurta. After bathing, I settled back onto the couch and waited for her.
However, time appeared to move slowly.
I gazed at my dagger impatiently, beginning to draw it from the sheath, only to push it back in. My eyes studied it intently, yet my mind focused on the image of her face I had seen just before she fled.
I immediately lifted my gaze to the entrance when I heard footsteps approaching. A slight smile appeared on my face, but it dropped as soon as I saw an unfamiliar face. I felt a strange ache in my heart.
“Prince, dinner.”
“Take it back,” I replied faster than I expected, glancing at the puzzled attendant retrieving the plate.
I bit my lower lip in confusion. Maybe she was busy and didn’t realise I had asked for dinner, so she didn’t come.
I stood up and pulled out a book to pass the time. I started with the first word of each page and promised myself that I would call for dinner when I finished the first page.
I started reading, but I could hardly focus. I finished the page and then clapped again.
Another attendant arrived. “I want dinner now,” I requested, remaining polite, as I had already been rude to someone else. She bent down and nodded before leaving.
After trying to concentrate for a while, I heard footsteps. I gulped and looked toward the entrance, and as soon as I saw the face, I sighed in frustration.
I will kill you today, Half-wife.
“Take it back, I’m not hungry,” I blurted, and the attendant looked at me with a confused and scared expression.
“But, Pr—”
“Really, I’m not hungry,” I insisted, and she turned to take it back.
Fine! This time, I would read five pages.
I sat down on the couch and immersed myself in the next five. As soon as I finished the last word on the fifth page, I clapped twice.
An attendant approached.
“I want dinner,” I stated again. She nodded before leaving.
But as soon as I saw an unfamiliar face again, I smashed my head on the book.
“Take it back,” I said again. My inner conscience growled in frustration.
Ten pages this time. I read and finished, and called an attendant for dinner, but she didn’t come again.
I sent her away. Another twenty pages, another attendant, not her, again; fifty pages, dinner, still not her, again.
I didn’t realise it then, but I had become frustrated and angry, and was truly hungry.
I had lost track of how many times I had called them.
Finally, I finished the book and clapped once more.
An attendant arrived, her face pale.
I tried to speak in a slow, soothing voice. “Dinner, please.”
She gulped. I sensed her nervousness and fear. “Ji,” she nodded and walked away.
I rose to my feet and walked back and forth.
Where the hell are you, Sumanika Ji, my half-wife?
Settling onto the bed, I reclined, closing my eyes with one knee bent over the edge. My heart raced, and a slight uneasiness churned in my stomach. Honestly, I was just worried about her health. That was it.
As I heard a faint sound of footsteps, I quickly lifted my head to glance at the entrance. My eyes fell on her, and I sighed in relief.
Thank god!
She appeared pale in her simple yellow outfit. Her eyes looked tired as I watched her walk toward the table to set the plate down.
“Your dinner,” she said.
I sat up to look at her. “What took you so long?”
She frowned at me. “For what?”
She knew the answer, yet—
“For bringing me dinner.”
She momentarily lowered her gaze and said, “There are other attendants as well, Kunwar-sa. You didn’t stay hungry if someone else served you in the last four years. What changed?”
“I wanted to see you.” I gritted my teeth, my words unintentionally sharp as I approached her from the bed.
Her eyes met mine, and I noticed the distance between us shrink.
She swallowed hard and blinked quietly before responding in a slow voice, “Since when did a prince want to see a maid?”
Her words hurt me. She sounded upset and blunt.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She flickered her gaze and nodded. “I’m absolutely fine. What would happen to me?”
I couldn’t help but gently cup her cheek. Her body stiffened.
“Hey,” I said, pulling her closer for a hug, but she resisted. “I’m sorry about the bet.”
Her breathing quickened as I gently pulled her to my chest. I couldn’t help but lean in to kiss the top of her head.
“I’m truly sorry for hurting you.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t hurt me.” Her voice was thick with sadness.
“Then tell me who hurt you,” I asked, angling her face to look at me.
“I hurt myself,”
Shaking my head slowly, I asked, “What do you mean?”
She stepped away from me.
“You care about me,” she said. “And no man has ever cared about me. Despite how my heart has hardened, I can’t convince myself that this isn’t real. This cannot happen. The way you keep pulling me back to you hurts… it hurts, Kunwar-sa; please don’t do this.” A tear rolled down her cheek.
My heart felt heavy. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, really,” I tried to explain, and she nodded, wiping her tears.
“I know…” she said, her lips quivering. “I know, you never want to hurt me, but please understand you’re committed to someone else. You shouldn’t worry about me, and I shouldn’t mistake your care for something more—my saviour.”
She took a few steps away from me.
I didn’t know what came over me as I held her hand and pulled her back toward me. Our chests collided, and I made her look at me. Her eyes widened.
“You don’t have to worry about my marriage,” I said.
She stared silently at me. “And?” she asked, trying to push me away. “Do you want me to become the person I’ve hated all my life? A second woman?”
There was so much pain in the way she questioned.
I shook my head. “Trust me,” a weight tightened my chest. “You’re not second.”
“Of course,” she breathed deeply. “I’m not second. Maybe third, fourth, tenth, fiftieth, hundredth, three hundred—”
“Stop.”
My heart raced as my face inched closer to her lips. I clenched my fingers, watching her eyes fill with fear, and her lips wobble at our proximity.
She looked into my eyes and gulped nervously.
My gaze fell on her lips. I blinked, struggling to gauge the consequences. The burden of everything except her lifted from my mind as I leaned even closer.
Her breathing quickened, and she shook her head with shivers. I squeezed my eyes shut, biting my lip in a futile attempt at self-control.
“I want to go, Kunwar-sa.” She said, snivelling.
I scared her away.
Closing my eyes, I couldn’t help but gently kiss the tip of her nose. “Just do whatever you want. But be happy and—”
“I want to go,” she cut me off, pushing me away.
I stood frozen as I watched her sprint away from me.
Fuck!!! Urgh!
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