CROWN PRINCE | LES MISÉRABLES

66.

Enjolras POV

I woke up before her, her beautiful black hair spread across her soft pillow. I was extremely lucky. I had such a beautiful woman in my life, who had gifted me a son. She was extraordinary, kind, and above all: a humble person who wanted justice.

She was just like me, just female. Females could be as badass as men could be. Maybe even a bit more...

She never saw the prince in me, only the human behind the happy facade. I cannot put it into words but it is very important for me. My entire life, I always had a special treatment. Women were traveling just to see me and were bitterly disappointed when I rejected them.

Annelise didn't have it much different. The poor girl had to dance with Marius at her ball. He kept stepping on her feet and I felt sorry for her. Still do. I forbid Marius to ever dance again because that was a crime.

Annelise was seeing men at her ball, that were twice her age. At least I wasn't going to marry her because I was close to dying.

She was so beautiful that night. All dressed up, ready to find a husband. Or at least, meet the suitors. She wore a cream-colored dress, matching her cream-colored hair accessory. Her hair had soft waves at the time.

Who would've thought, that this young girl, would be my wife one day?

We definitely didn't know yet but fate did. And fate is what brought us together. It was that night at the balcony where I had fallen for her. I was madly in love, despite knowing her for a short time. I kissed her because it felt right.

I didn't mean to hurt her that night, I promise. I was just shocked by my own actions that, at the time, didn't seem to make any sense. But now, thinking about it, they did. It all made sense to me now.

"Papa? Are you asleep?", Timothy asked, entering our bedroom.
"No, Tim. What's the matter?"
"I am hungry. Should I wake Mama?"

"No, let her sleep. Come on, let's get you something to eat."

I got out of bed and followed the little boy in the kitchen. I was not a cook. I had no idea how any of these things worked.

We stood in the kitchen, and I had no idea what to do. I couldn't even make myself some coffee, how was I supposed to feed my son?

"I want an omelette.", he said, staring at me with his big, blue eyes.
"That's great. How do make an omelette?"

"I don't know. Mama always does it for me."
"And how does she do it?"
"I think she cracks the eggs and whisks them."

"I think I can do that."

I took two eggs and cracked them open in a bowl. Thank god for no eggshells because I wouldn't know how to take them out. I whisked them as he told me.

"And now?"
"Mama cooks it."
"On the stove?"
"Yes. With the bowl?"
"No, with the copper pan.", he said.

He seemed a bit confused as to why I asked him so many questions. And I felt sorry. I put the eggs in the copper pan and put them on the fire on the stove.

"Mama says it cooks itself.", Timothy said.
"Fantastic.", I said, taking him to the living room to play with his toys.

I guess he meant that I should let it be and keep an eye on it. That backfired.

The omelet caught on fire. I gasped.

"Alright, why does this always happen to me? Please go wake Mama, the house is about to burn down."

He ran up the stairs while I ran around the kitchen. I felt helpless. I was an idiot. It was a freaking fire stove. Annelise came running down the stairs.

She gasped and grabbed a bucket of water. She tossed it over the stove and the fire went out. She gasped for air as the black smoke of the fire got out. She looked beautiful. She had her hair loose down her back.

"What was that?"
"An omelette."
"It caught on fire?"
"Yes."

"Why?"
"Papa can't cook."