CHAPTER 17: HURTFUL

MAKENA

“Are you coming?” Akira asked curtly, not even looking at me as he pulled out my chair as if it were a chore, snapping me out of my trance, and I sat down without saying anything before he took the seat across from mine.

I complimented courteously, "This is very nice," even though I had no idea why, since it was already clear that, even though he had gone out of his way, this date would not be any different from the others.

He gave a dismissive nod. “This is the kind of life you’d have had to get used to as my wife.” The words landed like a slap, souring the moment even more, and I thanked the Gods I had no desire to share any more moments with him. And why did he speak as though we weren't getting married anymore?

Just then, our first-course meal arrived, and we ate silently. It wasn't unusual, and I preferred the silence over the insults. After the second course, I asked to be excused and went to the ladies' room to check in on Erika.

I mind-linked her as soon as I was away from Akira. She told me she was already back at the house, and I shared my plan of ditching my security and sneaking out to hang with Val.

She liked the idea and thought it could work. I told her I would see her when I got home and disconnected the link.

Hearing about Val boosted my spirits.

When I returned to the table, I was met with Akira's interrogating stare. He didn't even bother standing or getting out of my chair now that no one was looking.

"I thought you left," he said as I sat down, and I didn't answer, but it didn't help as he set his fork down.

“This kind of chaos wouldn't fly with me,” he said, locking eyes with me, and I had no idea what he was talking about. But I didn’t ask, because that never worked.

He only became more hurtful when I talked back. He once told me I should worship his father because no other king would have gone through the trouble of digging through the trash to find his heir a wife. Akira was known as the Prince of the City, and his father was a self-proclaimed king.

I never told my parents the things he said to me when no one was looking because the first time I tried, my mother dismissed it with empty words of encouragement. She never let me fully express myself. She'd ask what's wrong, only to answer the question herself, and it always left me feeling drained every time. So I stopped trying.

“Akira?” I called after a moment, and he hummed in response.

"If you could get out of this marriage, would you?" I asked as all of the hurtful things he had ever said came flooding back to mind. Another thought occurred to me just then.

My mother was the only person with whom I ever attempted to discuss my dissatisfaction with Akira. I never made an effort to talk about it with Akira.

I endured all of the insults and abuse because I felt obligated to keep our arrangement intact for my family, even though he had always stated unequivocally that he didn't want me.

But now I found my soulmate, and I'd no longer marry Akira. What if getting out of this arrangement was not as difficult as I thought? What if I told him how I felt and he let me go? My heart raced with conviction as he looked up at me.

“Is that a trick question?” he asked, setting down his glass.

“No, it’s not. Akira, I don’t want to go through with this, and I know you don’t either.” I let the words flow, and he looked at me silently for a long moment before responding.

“Where’s this coming from? Why? Why are you suddenly saying this? You have always known how I felt, but you never wanted to get out of it. Why now?" He stared at me without blinking, and my voice trembled as I responded.

“Because it’s not fair to us. We should be able to be with people we love.”

“People we love? You've always known we have a responsibility to our families, not to love. What changed?”

“I... I guess I grew up.”

“Strange, normally when people grow up, they become smarter, but it seems that’s not the case for you. Don't fucking ask me stupid questions," he said, picking up his glass again as I stared at him, tears welling in my eyes, wishing I could just leave.

The chef came out with our desserts, but I couldn’t stomach anything. I glanced at the clock, each minute dragging as if time itself had stopped. I just wanted to go home so I could get to the orphanage and put my plan into action.

I was still looking at the clock when the slam of the glass on the table brought my attention back to Akira.

I jumped, startled, as the glass rattled against the wood, and met his blazing eyes, which locked on mine with such intensity that I shivered. "Are you fucking around?" he growled, and my heart lurched as I looked at him, stunned.

“Why-why are you asking me that?” I managed to whisper, but he didn’t answer that. Instead, he leaned in with a low voice. "Answer the damn question." I opened my mouth, but nothing came out, and he stood abruptly, pushing his chair back with a screech.

“Why the hell do you suddenly want out of this marriage, huh? What changed? Who is it? Who the fuck are you screwing, you dumb bitch?!”

He leaned across the table now, his face inches from mine, his stare sharp enough to slice through my skin. I felt cornered, like prey under the predator’s paw as I scrambled to my feet.

“I’m leaving,” I said firmly, though my voice shook, and my legs threatened to give way beneath me. I turned, hoping to get out before he did something worse, but I didn’t even make it two steps.

He appeared in a blur and blocked my path, and before I could react, his hand reached out and gripped my chin, forcing my face up to meet his. His fingers dug into my skin hard enough to bruise, and I choked out, "You're hurting me," but he cut me off.

“You are,” he hissed. “You are fucking around.”