Chapter 149: You're Among My Doubts

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Everyone's a slave to a certain thing. I have realized this long before.

And that ‘something’ could even be a someone. Some people are slaves to their innate, raw talent—some people long for something to pass by in their lives by destiny and desire it to stay for a lifetime.

Some people are mindless slaves to wealth, most of them are naïve to the dangers of possessing it. Some people are blind slaves to ineluctable grief once it struck them and it just tears them away from their happy reverie.

Perhaps, it could have been better to be a slave to something. Let it be an obsession with a talent, let it be self gratification, let it be filthy wealth.

At least those people didn't become a slave to someone.

I can even go as far as describing myself as a fool, an idiotic woman who married herself into a disaster in disguise of a captivating heaven. I wasn't even prepared that it would shatter into an abysmal pit of hell.

Conceivably, our so called, makeshift love we used to share is volatile from the start. I should have realized that the way things started felt uncanny yet inescapable.

I had no choice, I was spellbound.

The man I ran away with was my comeuppance. My fitting, hell bent fate that cost me such an exorbitant price.

I'm used to abandoning everything behind. I've left something before; I always asked myself if I could even do it again when my amber eyes met those devilish greens.

In these murky halls, not one soul can even fathom the unnoticeable despair my smile is used to mask. In this place I once claimed as ‘home’ everyone blinded themselves to their own obsession—their profit for giving the best of their services and for making out most of their roles—each penny coming from the very hands of their king.

Every move of mine felt like an obligation. He compelled our strings with us as his puppets.

I thought I had no more potential paths to escape the daydream I used to love but now despise. Not until I heard my son's cry of life.

For once in my entire existence, I didn't care about my pitiful regrets or the timely dissension. I didn't care about how my hair was a mess of soppy tendrils.

Even as a new born, Aiden already had his own obligation: To obtain the throne if ever something were to happen to his father.

And when he first opened his eyes, I began to change my perspective of the color green.

At times where my mind is numb and my body in a state of heaviness by the faint presence of sleep, I found this little boy's cry cacophonic and disturbing.

But I always tame the drowsiness of my eye lids to remind myself, his cry is technically music to my ears.

His cry of hope.

And as his tranquil years came into an end, his tears became mine as well as soon as he learned about the cruel territory he is born in.

I pushed away the unpleasant thought of carrying a new agony on my shoulders; because Aiden is no dead weight. Every inch of him is a gift.

There are moments where I cannot even withhold what I wish to say. Of course, they would be words of defense and assurance, but my tongue had always been sealed. It once had one master; and none other than me.

Now, someone else is its master, too.

Everything must come into an end— I'm currently living in what I speak of. Not entirely the end, it could even potentially be the beginning.

✔𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐈𝐈: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈Where stories live. Discover now