Damien, cloaked in the shadows in the distant corner of the bustling banquet hall, observed Rosalie's animated camaraderie with both princes. Their shared laughter and easy banter echoed across the room, magnifying the hollow ache in his chest. Jealousy, inexplicable and formidable, surged through him, engulfing his heart in a suffocating tide of emotion.
Restlessness and unease gnawed at him, a sense of disquiet stirring deep within his soul.
"This does not sit well with me," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the hum of the crowd. "I... I feel incredibly insecure."
Although he acknowledged Rosalie's unwavering commitment to their relationship, her constant reassurances of love, and the absence of any sign of discontent when they were together, a nagging suspicion persisted within Damien whenever he witnessed her engaging with others, whether men or women. It was as if an insincere facade concealed her true feelings.
