Dinzel

16// No regrets

{Marian}
He was staring at my every movement. I tried ignore his eyes but I just couldn't.

The request he made was quite difficult to prepare.

'I like her cooking' his words replayed in my head. Not like I cared. But he never told me he liked my cooking.

Every time I cooked I remembered my father. He really was the best.

The heat in the kitchen was getting to me, and the smell of the food made my nausea worse.

I opened the oven, squatting infront of it. The mittens on my hand only added to the heat I felt.

My hair kept covering my face. I stood up, frustrated and took off the mittens, tieing my hair quickly.

I squatted again and touched the hot plate in the oven.

"Shit," I hissed.

I had forgotten to wear the mittens back and now my hands were burnt.

It stung. I opened the tap on my hand quickly, letting cold water run over the burn.

Before I could realize what was going on, I felt him grab my hand, holding it up to his face. He stared at the red mark on my skin with no emotion on his face.

"Please would you stop touching me all the time?" I said, not thinking straight. It felt to me that the room was filled with steam. My eyes were blurred.

I'd never felt so sick before.

"Fine," he let go. "But don't pass out. Cause I will not pick you up."

How the hell is he not sweating?

I shifted uncomfortably at thought of him carrying me to his room.

The sting on my palm, the irritation in my throat, the fever on my skin. It was all too much.

My legs were failing, and my eyes...

"That's enough," I felt him catch me just before I could fall. "You should go. You're obviously not well."

"I'm fine." I said, stubbornly moving out of his hold and resting on the sink.

"Suit yourself," he backed away and I wished I had let him hold me up.

I felt my body hit the ground and my eyes closed.

_____

I was on something soft. So soft. Too soft it couldn't be real. My body was still aching but my nausea was almost completely gone.

My head was on something even softer and I was lying on my stomach. I refused to open my eyes. This felt like heaven. I never wanted to get up.

It was though all my life, I had been preparing for this moment when I could finally relax.

Work.

My eyes snapped open and I sat up in haste.

It took a while before my brain made out where I was.

The prince's room.

I was on his enormous bed. He wasn't in the room. His room looked so different from where I was laying.

The curtains were dropped so I could not tell what time it was.

My fingers. It stung a little. There was some plaster on it. But there was also a small sting in my arm.

"You're awake," his voice made me look up from my arm.

He was wearing the same thing he wore in the kitchen. Obviously.