In a world where everything seems perfectly logical and pragmatic. The thought of anything existing outside of the realm of what one already knows seems impractical.
That is how Melinda Morrison sees life.
The very life where she has shared nearly e...
He who falls closes his eyes, falls into a deep slumber.
Never in the decades of living did I feel such pressure and anxiety towards an important event such as this.
I've been on the frontline of wars with generals and both women and men by my side, all eager to fight for the sake of fending off the Espos army who sought to take our riches and lands.
I've taken numerous college exams, sleep deprived and at risk of mind blanking out once before.
Hell, I even attended the tensest nation assemblies, where my words could be used against me if I wasn't careful, yet here I am with tails tucked between my legs as I dreaded the night that I had insistently wished for many lifetimes to finally come to fruition.
If anyone were to witness the crown prince hiding in his office to escape the obligations of being a husband and fulfilling his duties with the crown princess as a newly wedded couple, they'd be ashamed and confused.
But can they blame me for being scared? My feelings for Mellie have been around before our second life started. I stuffed my affections in a box for years until it collected dust and if I were to confront her once more in a romantic light, I'm afraid that it might explode.
I'm scared of terrifying her with my love that's as deep as the ocean whilst she holds out a glass of water in my stead.
I have interacted with the same party many times in an intimate setting before this life occurred, yet a lingering dread of anxiousness still creeps over my body.
Was it because our souls were deposited into different forms that I, while familiar, felt so close, yet so very far away at the same time?
I left the wedding banquet early with the excuse of a headache, a poor attempt at hiding my looming anxiety regarding the moments to come. Melinda let me off scotch free, although the look in her eyes told me she knew I'm avoiding the inevitable.
It's not that I do not desire her no, god no, if that was the case then I must be blind.
Melinda was someone you call one of a kind, the epitome of an annual festival in a kingdom, the prettiest day than any other in a year, an event that never failed to bring smiles to everyone's face despite the previous disaster that struck the territory.
If I didn't know her beforehand, I would've thought of her as the goddess of beauty on the first encounter.
Regardless, I prepared on my end for the lotusland ritual. As the other half of the consummating party, as per Cluyzian tradition—the same kind of tradition that was ingrained into me by my now mother-in-law, it was imperative that I was fully and utterly clean for my wife, just as she was for me.
I was washed well and thoroughly with a series of fragrant soaps, oils, and moisturized with lotions so much that not a speck of me could be refuted; everything smelt heavenly on me, the king of smell you wanted your partner to press their nose against and feel intoxicated by.
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