"Dress..." I give a pathetic answer, and somewhat gesture to the garment I am holding on my body. By the zip.
He seems to understand why I came in here in the first place, as I can see his face shift from highly confused to relatively normal. But just after the change of attitude, he goes to turn and make his way out of the room.
I have to stop him.
"No! Wait, please I need your help," I feel embarrassed basically crawling back to this man, but I cannot go out of my room in a half done up dress.
"What?"
"The zip," I turn around to show him, then turn to face him again, "I can't reach it," The last but trails off, and I see his face change to a look of amusement.
And he doesn't say anything, but he sighs slightly and comes to stand behind me, adjusting the way I face. But of course, he just had to make me face the mirror.
So, I'm stood in front of a mirror, forced to stare at not only myself, but him too. Him doing up my dress zipper.
Kill me now.
My heart quickened as his fingers found the bottom of the zip, delicately undoing it, removing my own grasp. A sudden shiver ran up my spine as the chill from his hands engulfed my back. Memories of a similar moment flashed in my mind, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. His touch was cold and rough, just as it had been last time.
The room seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with tension and an uncomfortable silence. The only sounds were the faint rhythm of our breathing and the slow, deliberate movement of the zipper being drawn upward. It felt like an eternity as I stood there, locked in the moment, my reflection capturing his piercing gaze.
His eyes met mine through the mirror, but the connection felt cold and distant, unlike the warmth I had hoped for in this intimate moment. He glared at me, and I could sense a mix of emotions in his expression – anger, frustration, and something else I couldn't quite decipher.
I have to be the one to break the eye contact.
"Nikolai,"
The sound of his sigh, almost resembling a gasp, only deepened the discomfort in the room. He continued to zip up the dress, completing the task with a hint of exasperation in his movements. It felt as though there was something he wanted to say, a flood of emotions that remained trapped behind a wall of silence.
"I'm sorry," He tells me.
Nikolai P.O.V
What am I doing? I just promised myself I won't get attached, I won't fall.
Fuck.
She's looking at me with those eyes, those gorgeous fucking eyes.
Who am I kidding, I can never keep her out, she's all I think about...
Arabella P.O.V
Oh god.
I give him a small nod, too scared to actually say anything, I can't trust my voice.
"I loved you, and I don't know why I would even think of doing something like cheat on you. I was drunk and sad, and I know it's not an excuse, but you and me not talking had been killing me. Please," His words all kind of mumble into one. I look up into his reflection once again.
"You loved me then?" I ask, quietly.
"I love you now," He whispers, "Please forgive me, please. I'm so scared to be alone..." He pleads again, and I can hear tears in his voice.
"Without you a part of me is missing, Be- Arabella"
I'm scared too.
Is all I want to tell him. Shout it, make sure he knows, but as I look into the mirror, his ring gleams at me.
His- our wedding ring.
And it reminds me of what he fucking did.
I'm not forgiving him that easy.
"Your reflection," I point to his ring, "is a promise you couldn't fucking keep,"
My stab at him is nothing above a whisper or a murmur, but his face looks as if I just screamed in his face.
He mouthed the word "no" repeatedly, perhaps in disbelief or denial, and then turned away from me. Guilt washed over me like a tidal wave, and I desperately wanted to take back what I had said. But the damage was done, and the weight of our unresolved issues hung heavily in the air.
"I have to go," he muttered, grabbing his mask from the bedside table before storming out of the room. The sound of his retreating footsteps echoed in the silence, leaving me feeling utterly alone and brokenhearted.
I stood there, still clutching the dress, but my focus had shifted from the fabric to the emotional wreckage left behind. Regret gnawed at me, and I wished I had chosen my words more carefully.
Fuck.
Too much?
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short but oh well. also god can't they catch a break with the angst?!
thanks for reading :)
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Tied to the Throne
Romance"This marriage is nothing but an alliance to me. Don't expect anything else, because you won't get it. I will never love you." "It felt as if my parents had tied me to the throne. Tied me to him." - A princess and a prince, forced into a marriage th...
