The Black The white and the grey.

Chapter 6 | Tell me.

Kaboentle.

I'm lying in the tub again with the night sky beautifully and majesticly adorning the sky. I've always enjoyed this view.
I always enjoyed imagining that every gap between every star is a different world, a world where in every dimension exists a completely different version of myself.

A version where I wasn't born into a royal family. A version where I'd probably lead a more modest life with a cat and a loft apartment in a big metro city, with no boyfriend and a small circle of equally fabulous friends.

One with a completely culturaly or even religiously contrasting husband and the other with a sexually liberated sex life and has no shame in flaunting her body for men with an equall thirst for sex as she possess and one with a perfect to almost bland married life, but she's content and has two beautiful children, who are both in their adolescent years.

If we're not trying to keep up with the multiple partners she encounters, we're trying to help parent the two preteens and trying not to spend a little too much on berkin bags and designers dresses.

Along with a universe where I'd be the Pea under the princess mattress or part of Cinderellas entourage. Or maby even a universe where I am a house wife or maby even a corporate giant, anything, anything really that isn't the life that I am living.

I would sneak away on my own out into the veld with a tote bag full of snacks and throw blanket in tow together with my trusted fluffy pillow to make the place home while I go and imagine a new home for myself.

Escape.

That's what they call it. I've been so used to escaping that at times I've found myself trying to merge what lies in my head with my reality forgetting that non of that is ever going to happen.

I'm stuck in this universe.

I'm a royal princess, forced into a Marriage which is deemed as nothing short of an experiment with a man I barely know and a miserable life ahead of me with a promise of a future filled with babies that were are to make as a duty to be fulfilled to his throne.

There's an abrupt shake on my body and my body is forced to jerk up before I can even open my eyes.

My eyes immediately catch his as he hovers over me with his eyebrows knitted together in concern.

"What's wrong with you ?"
I ask as I get up from the couch and I see him rub his forehead as he closes his eyes and he looks away from me.

He's frustrated.

"I thought you'd be glad that I am not dead, yet."

"This isn't funny..."

"Well it is to me... why do you suddenly care what I do with my life you've never cared."

"You don't know that."

"I know that you'd rather be in a foreign country than to be stuck here with me. You've made it pretty clear that you don't. So this act of " concern"... I don't buy it."

"Your right. Maby I don't care about you, maby my biggest concern is making sure that your not wheeled out of here in a silver body bag within a week of our marriage."

"I would never do that to myself."

I say as I get up bare foot and I take my shoes from the ground and I start to walk up the stairs backt to my room while he follows close behind me.

"I am finding that so hard to believe right now. I can't trust you around yourself."

"It was a mistake. A genuine mistake, I just had too much wine and I fell asleep in the tub and someway somehow-"