My eyes blinked rapidly as I tried to shake off the disbelief that gripped me. Antonia? I rubbed my eyes, hoping that this was just a cruel trick of my imagination or perhaps a surreal dream. But, unmistakably, it was her – Antonia.
Confusion and bewilderment clouded my thoughts. Dante had spoken ill of Antonia numerous times, highlighting the harsh treatment she had subjected me to in the past.
Why, then, was he standing beside her at this peculiar hour? The contradiction between my understanding of Dante's feelings towards Antonia and the reality unfolding before me created a disorienting sense of unreality.
I strained trying to assess the situation, watching the two of them in silence as a whirlwind of questions danced in my mind. Was this a betrayal? A conspiracy I couldn't understand? Or were there layers to Dante's actions that I had yet to unravel? The room, once a our peaceful place of love , now harbored a strange and unsettling scene that challenged everything I thought I knew.
Antonia's presence in the room still felt like a surreal nightmare, and my voice faltered as I questioned, "Antonia, what are you doing here? Dante, why is she with you, and..." My words were abruptly silenced by the stern rise of Dante's hand, a gesture demanding my silence.
Inside, confusion and shock collided, leaving my thoughts in disarray. From everything he said the only word word I could hear was "fiancée". The word echoed in my mind making me want to laugh like be said something hilarious.
" Get out of my room my fiancee and I need to rest," the words echoed through my mind as I tried to shake myself from the unfolding horror.
"Fiancée? Is this some kind of sick joke?" I managed to stammer, my voice betraying the hurt and incredulity that reverberated within me.
Dante, unmoved by my reaction, pulled Antonia closer, sealing the bizarre scene with a kiss on her forehead. "Didn't you hear what I said? I already told you I hate repeating myself."
As the weight of Dante's words settled, my inner thoughts raced in an attempt to make sense of the things happening at the moment. "Dante, you can't be serious," I
said, desperately clinging to the hope that there must be some logical explanation for the shocking turn of events.
He walked towards me , kneeling besides me, before I could vocalize my protest, Dante's palm struck my delicate cheek, the force sending me stumbling backward. The room echoed with the impact, and as I braced myself against the shock, a haunting question lingered in my mind.
Were the rumors about Dante's true nature true ? The rumors that had circulated, now revealing themselves in this unexpected and violent turn of events? The uncertainty left me feeling vulnerable, questioning the foundation of the love I had once believed in.
As tears streamed down my face, expecting some form of comfort, Dante's actions plunged me deeper into despair. Instead of offering comfort or answers, his hand reached out, not to console, but to cruelly grab my hair. The pain shot through me as he callously dragged me by my hair across the room . The very space that had once been a sanctuary for our love.
Thrown out of the room like a discarded object, I turned to look at him, my eyes pleading for an explanation. But before the door closed, what I saw shattered the remaining amount of hope I had. There, on the other side, Dante's face remained cold and indifferent. However, what truly stung was the sight of Antonia, her smirk etched with malice.
The realization hit me like a tidal wave – the man I had trusted, the one I thought would protect me, had become an embodiment of cruelty. The alliance between Dante and Antonia left me standing outside the closed door, isolated and broken, with no answers to the questions that haunted my shattered heart.
Sleeping in front of the closed door, my tears had become a silent companion, soaking my dress in a melancholy embrace. Whimpers escaped my lips as dreams from the past resurfaced, haunting me with memories of a life when I was tormented by my Aunt.
A gentle touch stirred me from the haunting dreams, and my eyes shot open with a jolt of fear. It was Mercy – a reassuring sight that tempered the residual fear. She embraced me, and the floodgates of my emotions burst open again. I cried in her arms, unable to control the storm that raged within.
"Your highness, what's wrong? What's going on?" Mercy's concern echoed in her words, but I couldn't find the strength to respond. The weight of the recent event held me captive, rendering me momentarily speechless.
As Mercy pressed for answers, my inner thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind.
" I had seen His Majesty enter with another woman, is everything okay? " she asked me , and suddenly, everything clicked into place.
The late nights, the change in behavior, the inexplicable actions – it all made sense now. The pieces of the painful puzzle fell into alignment, revealing a reality I was so relaxed about to accept. The foundation of trust that I had built my life upon was crumbling, leaving me battle with the shattered remains of a love that seemed to have been nothing more than a fragile illusion.
Mercy gently helped me to my feet, her concern evident in her eyes. "It's too cold for you to sleep on the floor; you'll get sick," she expressed with a touch of motherly care.
However, I resisted, my determination fueled by the need for answers. "I can't leave my husband. I need answers. What is my cousin doing in my bedroom, with my husband, on my matrimonial bed?" The words spilled out, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and pain. Emotions overtook me, and my voice slowly began to fade.
Mercy, recognizing the fragile state of my emotions, tried desperately to calm me down. "You aren't in the right state of mind, and sleeping on the floor won't help. Please, please, your highness," she pleaded, her words a soothing balm against the tempest of my emotions. Yet, the need for answers remained, an unquenchable thirst that echoed in the depths of my shattered heart.
After Mercy's soothing words, I had given in and decided to leave thngs as they were.I decided to follow Mercy's guidance, understanding the practicality of not sleeping on the cold floor. As she offered to arrange a new room, I declined.
"I don't mind sharing a room with you, please," I requested, the vulnerability in my voice revealing a deep-seated fear of being alone in the wake of the emotional storm that had engulfed me.
The idea of solitude felt like an unbearable weight, and the comfort of having someone by my side, even in the form of a loyal companion like Mercy, provided a fragile comfort in the midst of the chaos that had become my reality.