Chapter Twenty - Five

I stand there, watching him leave the room. My chin trembles, like I am struggling to catch my breath. The door closes loudly, the sound echoing in my head.

I stumble back to the bed and sit on the edge. I stay there, blankly staring at nothing, tears sliding down without permission. I don’t even bother to wipe them.

How did he find out? How did Rex know I’m pregnant? I think to myself

My hands move to my stomach. It’s still flat, still mine, but there's life there. A small, uninvited heartbeat. I don’t know how to react to all this. Should I be angry? Scared? Or maybe both.

He doesn't even care? I thought he wanted a baby? Or is it because I'm not his first mate?

My thoughts circle like smoke. I remember being in the garden last night, touching the flowers, tracing their edges under the moonlight. Then the vision hit me out of nowhere and I recall that night. That cursed night.

I saw it all again, the way he touched me, the heat of it, the moment I felt something dark watching from the shadows. A figure standing in the corner. Then it's gone.

The next thing I remember is morning light, Rex standing over me, his face pale and his eyes wild. He already knows.

I try to put the pieces together, but everything inside me feels hurt. A gentle knock comes from the door, pulling me out of my thoughts. The door creaks open before I can respond.

My personal maid walks in smiling, balancing a tray with a covered bowl. I hurriedly wipe my face, hoping she doesn't notice.

“Your Highness, good morning.”

“Good morning,” I manage, forcing a smile. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine. And you?” Her voice is gentle, careful. “How are you and the baby doing this morning? Our royal heir?”

I scoff. “Royal heir.” The words taste bitter. “There is no royal heir. But the baby’s fine.”

Her eyes flickered with confusion but she looks away instead of asking what I mean. She keeps the tray on the table and opens the bowl. A nice, rich aroma fills the air, and it doesn't make me sick like yesterday.

“I made this specially for you,” she says. “It will help with the morning sickness. It also calms the nausea.”

“Thank you.” I murmur, picking up the bowl.

“It’s my pleasure to serve you, ma’am,” she says, already turning to leave.

“Wait.”

She stops, looks back.

“Can I know your name?”

“It’s Kimmie, ma'am.” she says softly.

“Kimmie,” I repeat, stressing the name. “That’s nice. So can I call you Kimmie?”

She nods. “Yes, ma.”

“Okay then,” I sigh. “You should also call me Raya, not ma.”

Her lips twitch nervously. “Ma Raya.”

I laugh quietly. “No. Just Raya.”

She hesitates, then whispers, “Raya.”

“See, that's much better,” I smile. “You know, I didn't grow up with so many people around. I don't have a friend except Kael, so I’ve never been close with women. I’d like to be your friend.”

She blinks, startled. “I can’t be friends with you, ma. You are the Alpha’s wife.”

I smile, but it feels hollow. “No, I’m not. I’m just a girl like you. And I’d like you to be someone I can trust.”

Kimmie studies me for a moment, then nods. “Friends,” she says finally.

“Friends,” I echo. Something small and warm flickers in me.

“Can you prepare a bath while I eat?” I ask.

“Yes, Raya.”

As she disappears into the bathroom, I sip the soup slowly. It’s good, better than anything I've ever eat. I close my eyes, just enjoying the warmth sliding down my throat. My body feels heavy, tired from thinking.

To survive this place, I’ll need someone I can trust, someone who won’t run to Rex with every whisper. But can I really trust her? I don’t know yet.

Kimmie returns, her hands damp from the bathwater. “It’s ready,” she says softly.

I look up at her. “Kimmie, were you the one who told Rex about my pregnancy?”

Her eyes go wide. “No, ma. Never. You made me promise, and I didn’t break it. I swear.”

I nod slowly. “Okay.”

I finish the soup, set the bowl aside, and walk toward the bath. The warm water feels like a small mercy. I sink in, close my eyes, and try not to think. Kimmie lays out my clothes, humming under her breath.

After dressing, I decide to go to the library. Maybe reading will quiet the storm in my head. But halfway there, I hear Rex's voice. Deep, rough, strained. Something in it pulls at me.

I shouldn’t go. I know I shouldn’t. But my feet move anyway.

The corridor is dim, the air thick with the smell of wine. His chamber door is half open. I push it wider. The room is dark except for a sliver of moonlight cutting across the floor. Rex is there on the ground, shirt half unbuttoned, an empty bottle beside him.

“Rex,” I whisper.

No answer.

I step closer, kneel beside him. “What’s wrong with you? Get up.”

He groans, his head lolling toward me. I grip his arm, trying to pull him up. “Rex, come on, you can’t stay here like this.”

He opens his eyes suddenly, grabs my wrist, and before I can react, he pulls me down. His body presses against mine, his breath hot and heavy.

“Rex, stop,” I say, trying to push him back.

But he doesn’t stop. He pins me against the wall, his hands rough, his eyes dark. Then his lips crash into mine.

I shove him hard. “Stop it!”

He stares at me, then laughs a low, broken sound. “Why can’t you just get out of my life?” he says, voice slurred but sharp.

“Why are you still here when you know you shouldn’t be? You’re not supposed to be here, Raya. You’re not. But you’re too stubborn to leave.”

His words sting. “You think I want to be here?” I snap. “You think I enjoy this?”

He shakes his head, gripping his hair. “I don’t know why you have this kind of effect on me,” he says quietly. “That’s why I’m trying to push you away as far as possible.”

Something inside me breaks a little at the sound of his voice. The anger, the pain tangled in it. I want to yell, to tell him he doesn’t get to decide how I feel. But all I can do is look at him, the strongest Alpha I’ve ever known, and somehow, the most broken.

I turn away, pressing my hands against the wall to steady myself.

“Then stop fighting me,” I whisper. “Stop pretending you don’t feel it too.”

He looks at me for a long time, his eyes unreadable. Then he mutters something I can barely hear. “That’s exactly why I have to.”

I leave before I fall apart again.

Now, in the library, I can still feel his touch burning on my skin. I hate him for it. I hate myself more for wanting it. I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this, the constant pull between wanting him and wanting to be free.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll find a way to stop caring. But right now, I can still feel his lips, his hands, his broken voice whispering my name. And that’s the part I can’t seem to escape.