He felt a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach, and regret washed over him as everything started to make sense. What had he done? What had he just done?
He rushed over to me, finding me still lying on the floor, struggling to get up. He approached me and crouched down.
"Are you okay?" The regret and concern in his voice made me want to assure him that I was fine. I tried to stand up, but he stopped me. He lifted me off the floor and gently placed me on the bed.
"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to hurt you..." he apologized, and I looked at him, unsure of what had just happened. All I knew was that I was standing in front of him, and suddenly something threw me across the room, causing me to crash onto the ground. It couldn't have been him, right? He wouldn't do that to me, right? He had broken his promise; he had said he would never harm me. So why did it happen?
"I'm sorry..." he repeated, noticing the fear in my expression. If he was capable of that, then he might cause me more harm, I thought, my heart filled with fear. But that fear quickly turned into worry. His wound... I hadn't tended to his wound.
I stood up from the bed, ignoring the dull aches in my body. "Your wound, I... I haven't cleaned it..." I said, grabbing the bowl.
"I'm okay, don't worry," he replied, getting up and coming towards me to take the bowl. But I held it firmly, giving him a serious look. "Take off your shirt," I ordered firmly. He let out a frustrated sigh and went back to the bed.
My eyes widened as he tore his shirt open, revealing a perfect body with well-toned stomach. His shoulders were broad and the muscles in his arms twitched as he lay down.
"Oh… Goodness..." I whispered, feeling a bit overwhelmed. I heard him scoff.
"Are you just going to stare?" he asked, and I quickly moved towards him, my face turning red with embarrassment. I sat down on the bed and started cleaning his wound.
This is terrible. Why did they do this to him? The wound was so deep that I could feel the bone if I dipped my finger into it. It's a deep wound that will cause a lot of pain and probably leave scars on his back. I haven't known him for long, but all I knew was that his family didn't want him. They hated him and were cruel to him, treating him inhumanely. If they could still hurt him like this, I wonder what his childhood must have been like.
I can't even imagine it because I wasn't any different from the people who hated him. I was the worst of all. He was my husband, and I was supposed to protect him from them, but what did I do? I feared and hated him, not wanting to be near him, just like his brothers. I was one of them. I didn't deserve him. I'm so shameless for even coming close to him after all I've done to him, and even worse, all of this happened because of me. I'm just as bad and cruel as his family, always causing trouble for him. Tears rolled down my cheeks as everything started to sink in. What I felt wasn't regret, it was hatred for myself, guilt, and shame. I just wanted to disappear and leave his life. He would be better off without a traitor like me.
"Why are you crying?" Oh... I quickly wiped the tears from my face with the back of my hand and looked away. "No, I'm not..." I said. He sat up and faced me, his hand moved to cup my face. "What's wrong?" he asked softly.
"I'm sorry..." I whispered.
"It's okay," he said and wiped a tear away from my cheek. But it wasn't enough.
"I'm sorry... Please..." I cried, more and more tears streaming down my cheeks.
"Nora..." he wiped the tears from my face and looked at me, his gaze penetrating, filling my heart with guilt. "Are you crying because I hurt you?" he asked, and I shook my head. I wasn't crying because he hurt me; I was crying because I hurt him even more. I failed him.
He sighed and drew me into a warm embrace. "It's okay, Nora. Stop crying..."
"I'm sorry..." I continued crying against his chest.
"Shhhh..." he hushed. "Stop crying... Okay?" he said as he gently stroked my hair with his hand.
I sniffed, his warm and earthy scent engulfed my nostrils, making it hard to think straight. I quieted and listened, focusing on the steady and soft beat of his heart in my ears. His arms felt like warm and cold steel around me. Oh... how I wanted to be here forever. I closed my eyes, assuring myself that I wouldn't fall asleep. My cheek rested on his chest as he wrapped his hands around me. I blinked my lashes several times—they grew heavier with each blink. I didn't want to sleep... but I couldn't resist it. Soon, my eyes closed, and I embraced the darkness ahead.
****
She fell asleep softly and silently in his arms. He felt the gentle huff of her breath brushing against his senses, and the weight of her seductive body in his arm. He closed his eyes and sighed in frustration.
"Nora, what are you doing to me?" he murmured as he looked down at her. After holding her for what seemed like an eternity, he finally laid her down on the bed, covered her with the sheet, and left the room.
"Your Highness," Darius called from behind.
"What?" He stopped in his tracks, and Darius stepped in front of him.
"Your Highness, here it is," he said, extending his hands forward. Regan looked down at the object in his hands with a frown.
"Where did you get that from?" he questioned, and Darius stood up straight.
"It's from the emperor, Your Highness," he said, and Regan took the note from his hands.
"What is it about?"
"I'm unaware, but it's not something you should worry about, Your Highness," Darius assured him, and Regan smirked before turning his back to leave.
He walked into the study and closed the door. He sat down and opened the note. His eyes narrowed in anger as he read the contents, a deep frown creasing his forehead.
What the hell is this?!