An Ending

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SILIN


The silence is the loudest in the room.

My lips taste of lavender. The cup of tea is empty beside the papers strewn all over my desk, alongside with four others.

I'm in some sickly feeling, where my head feels forced awake but my body is drugged with exhaustion.

It's already three in the morning.

The blunt pen slips from my fingertips. The sound it makes as it falls onto a messy pile of papers is so dull and hollow— just like the love of my own husband.

I'd told him. For the first time in over a month, that I wanted to see him tonight. I hadn't wanted to seem clingy, so I had waited— counted down each of the thirty days until I could not wait anymore.

Now it was three in the morning.

I push up from my chair.

It makes a harsh noise against the floor. But I don't care— the anger is suddenly aflame, sending sparks from my head to the tips of my fingers.

Was it really that difficult?

I knew that he had lost his love for me a long time ago. We hadn't had dinner together in the last three months. I barely saw him— just glimpses of his silhouette as he left the Palace and goes only God knows where.

But even then.

I was still his Queen. His wife. I'd put him on this throne with my own hands.

I'm a vengeful wraith— my steps barely make any noise against the carpeted floor as I sweep down the corridor, towards his room. Even his room is so far away from mine.

The corridor is completely silent, with the coming of night.

It's how I hear them in the first place.

The chill starts to set between my lips when I'm a couple doors away. I hear the faint sound of impact, hard and violent— the firm material of wood against wood. My steps slow, the tiniest bit.

Ah.

A breath leaves my throat as I get closer.

My hands start to tremble when I hear the voice of my husband, mixed with the breathless moans of a woman. I grip the silk of my dress, just to stop them from shaking as I pause in front of his door.

I hear everything. It seeps out from between the cracks of the door, pouring into the silence of the halls.

He tells her everything that I'd only ever wanted to hear from him.

And I don't know how long I stand there for, listening to the woman's purrs overlap against his sweet words. The bed continues to creak— the sound never falters.

Then there's a soft, sharp voice.

"Your Highness!"

My gaze is blank as I look up. And I see Jimin, holding a silver tray between his hands. There's another steaming cup of lavender tea— along with a slice of cake.

For me.

"Your Highness," He whispers again, his brows furrowing. "Why are you out here? It's col—"

Another high-pitched moan comes from the shut door. It nearly borders a scream, full of pleasure.

I watch him silently, as his amber eyes widen in disbelief. A piece of my hardened soul seems to chip away and crumble the same moment that disbelief shifts into realization.

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