◤𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕒𝕞𝕪◢ - It Started With Vomit!

Chapter 24: Strong Stomach

"It was long-planned; at the innocent age of five we were betrothed," Rouge elucidated. "Despite Shadow's fervid wish to marry 'Rose' when he grew older, it was simply too expensive for our affluent parents to afford." 

Her eyes creased, searching for a nicer, honorable way to explain why this was so. But even with her superfluous efforts at being considerate, Rouge ultimately settled for a sardonic-ladened response, not at all apologetic. "It didn't align with their cheaper, more apodictic plans, unfortunately."

My lips hung on empty words.

"I. . . I don't know what to say."

"I honestly didn't know Rose was you, back then," Rouge communicated urgently, saddened, but marching on with the decisive tale. 

After years of sworn secrecy, there was little more to withhold—or rather, no point in withholding the story when her reason for initially hiding it was no longer warranted.

"And, for what it's worth, I apologize, Amy." The word "resign" practically embedded itself in her forehead, capital letters applied on every letter.

I locked eyes with Rouge as she formed her arms around me, side-lining her drink to take hold of a stretch of cold, unmoving, tense shoulders.

"It's an awful thing I've done," she felt the need to clarify, falling into the bend of my neck and pressing against the fiery rage rising beneath my skin. "This is far from the right time to spring all this on you, one month from your. . . well, your wedding."

"Oh. So you know!"

"But I swear,"—she cleanly cut me off, tightening her grip on my trembling muscles—"I saw little use apprising you of this information since you'd never know Shadow as anything more than a boss. . . neither would I, quite honestly."

"No use?"

My friend experiencing the same hardship I was rambling about, and that should've been something to bond over. Reinforce a bond already unbreakable. I wanted to castigate Rouge. Words pooled within the depths of my throat, banking on the rim of my tongue, refusing to come out, as much as I wanted to comfort her. 

Memories of the sort she'd showed me whilst hypocritically pretending nothing was amiss clouded my predominant sense of amity.

"I know I've lost Cream."

A subtle lump in her throat enlarged, grazing the sensitive skin of my neck. 

"Rouge—"

"I know I've lost Knuckles, as well, Amy. But I couldn't bear losing even one more person."

A pause slammed into the conversation. 

"I see."

Betrayal suffused my agitated temper.

Although it sounded unlikely and presumptuous, this whole situation—whether withheld for dubious reasons or not—fit neatly into the pain-inducing, improvised puzzle scrambled across the back of my mind.

Maria and Lucy's words from months ago—about Shadow pursuing me, coupled with his overt distrust for Rouge—exhausted my logic. But, being the only shred of potential evidence, I shaped a distasteful conclusion. One I was less-than-pleased to surmise.

"Do you really?" The bat asked.

I didn't.

Or, at least, I didn't want to believe that I did. Because, if what those two women claim to be true really is, why else would Rouge imagine telling me this (now) will make any sort of difference? 

If Shadow really did love me, what other explanation would there be for Rouge to fill my head with discord-inducing narratives, telling me to perpetrate cognate actions if she, herself, didn't harbour lingering feelings for the arrogant hedgehog?