Chapter Ninety Seven: The Inner Battles of a Narcissist

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As we walked out, frustration simmered within me, threatening to boil over. "Wilbard, come see me when you're done attending to your female," I declared, my tone laced with irritation.

Sure, I understood Qean's background, her lack of experience in friendships, but that didn't excuse her behavior. She knew right from wrong, and she was capable of being considerate-I had seen it when she gave me that dress.

So, I refused to tolerate her smart mouth and inconsiderate attitude towards me.
I had gone out of my way to give her a chance, to understand her, even when most people despised her in the novel.

And yet, she couldn't even muster a simple apology. Instead, she tried to guilt-trip me with her question about being my "pretty one." It was unacceptable.

I pride myself on being understanding and compassionate, but I won't let anyone take advantage of my kindness.

Qean needed to learn that I wasn't a pushover. While I'm willing to make amends and forge connections with others, I won't tolerate being treated poorly in return.

She needed to sit with the consequences of her actions because kindness should never be mistaken for weakness.

As Imara's footsteps faded into the distance, panic tightened its grip around Qean's chest, each echoing step amplifying the guilt and remorse churning within her.

She couldn't bear the thought of Imara walking away, not when everything felt like it was unraveling before her eyes.

Hearing Imara's voice in the hallway, Qean felt a small surge of relief, quickly overshadowed by a suffocating sense of dread. She couldn't fathom her cutting her off like that.

However, her relief was short-lived when she realized she was addressing Wilbard and not her.

Without pausing to consider the consequences, Qean bolted after me, her heart pounding with each frantic stride. Bursting into the hallway, she called out to me, her voice raw with desperation.

"You can't walk away from me!" she exclaimed, urgency and defiance lacing her words. "I won't accept it!"

I turned to face her, a mix of surprise, annoyance, and bewilderment crossing my expression at Qean's outburst.

"Watch me," I replied firmly.

"But this isn't what I want! I can't let you leave," she insisted, conviction trembling in her voice. "Don't walk away from me!"

As Qean's emotions bubbled uncontrollably, Wilbard placed his hands on her shoulders, a gesture of both comfort and concern.

"Qean..." he began, not accustomed to seeing his mate so riled up emotionally over anyone, but it was Imara, so he understood. After all, they had never experienced friendship before.

My eyebrows furrowed incredulously, and I let out a scoffing chuckle. "Qean, girl, you sound..."

"Crazy?" Qean finished for me, her tone fraught with adamant stature. "Maybe I am," she admitted, feeling the weight of her words.

"But I can't accept losing everything I've been pursuing. I lost Winston, which honestly, I don't care about anymore. When will I ever be short of males? she scoffed.

But you walking away from me is not acceptable!" Qean's voice rose, her tone defensive and filled with emotion.

"I have given you things precious to me, like my valuable goods and my personal time, which I value the most. How can you not appreciate that? As she looked at me bewildered.

You can't extract that from me and leave; I refuse!" Her words were punctuated by the intensity of her emotions.

"Is it wrong for me to want what I want or to pursue what I want?

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