The war was finally over, and he had returned.
*I hurried to join him, my heart racing as if it sensed this would be anything but a simple reunion.*
"Arkan.I missed you so much," I began, my voice shaking. "I thought—"
But he didn't reply. He simply stood there, his eyes looking off into the distance, unreadable, as though I were a stranger in his way.
Finally, he spoke, his voice flat and impatient.
> "Are you finished with it? Can I go? Stop blocking my path. I have to talk to my generals about the next plan because I want to be the Demon Lord."
I froze. "Arkan.what are you talking about? It's been so long since we last saw each other. Let's.let's talk. Have tea…"
His eyes narrowed, his voice slicing into my words like a knife.
> "Why the hell would I have tea with you? I need to focus."
Confused, I took a step back, feeling a squeeze in my chest. Why is he being so cold?
He raised his hand, signaling the servants. "My head hurts," he said.
In a reflex action, my hand reached to touch his arm, to comfort him, to remind him of my presence.
>"Do not touch me," he growled, swatting my hand aside as if it were nothing.
My throat constricted, a sting of tears forming in the corners of my eyes. My fists were balled at my sides, shaking. A shout, a defiance, threatened to burst from me, but I held it back. Maybe--just maybe--he's tired. It had to be. That's the only explanation I could cling to.
I returned to my house in silence, feeling my heart sink further as I moved. But little did I know, things were about to go from bad to worse.
The official coronation of the Crown Prince was near. It was a ceremony where he would have usually asked me, his fiancée, to stand beside him. But instead, he selected Vionne, one of his generals.
I struggled to suppress the tears welling up in my eyes and slipped away from the party. My heart ached as every step felt like a form of betrayal. But nothing could have prepared me for what would follow.
Arkan burst into my mansion uninvited. His arrival brought a heavy atmosphere. He had been investigating my family. He uncovered tax evasion.
"Please, Arkan. don't make this public," I pleaded, my voice barely a whisper as fear and shock coursed through me.
> "PUBLIC SUPPORT IS NECESSARY. Even my fiancée's family will not be tolerated," he said, his eyes hard as ice, devoid of the warmth I once saw.
The incident became public. My family had to pay a heavy penalty as well as go into house arrest for three months.
My reputation began to fall. Friends avoided me, rumors trailed me everywhere, and the trust I had in Arkan began to erode.
Nevertheless, I held on to a glimmer of hope. I told myself he must have a reason, a plan which I'm not privy to. Maybe this is some form of test, a tactic he knows.
But he kept his distance, his harshness, his rigidity. My glimmer of hope, my light, flickered and died amidst the darkness of his brutality.
I felt completely alone.
But despite all that, despite everything, I could not help but think of him, of the boy whom I once loved, of the Demon Lord he once was, and of the promises he once made me. The one whom perhaps, deep down, this darkness has not consumed. But now.I wasn't sure if he even existed.