The Mouse and The Monarch

27

~MOUSE~

He wasn't just jealous.

He was furious.

It was a volatile concoction of possessiveness and insecurity that seeped through his every pore.

He had wanted her this whole time and he hated it.

And what he hated even more was that she had kept dancing away from him.

But it seemed Askel had been the last straw.

The heat of his jealousy radiated from him, an almost tangible force that set the room ablaze.

König's once-penetrating gaze had changed into raw, unbridled fury.

The air crackled with tension as Ophelia, unfazed by the storm brewing in his eyes, took measured steps toward him.

Her face, a canvas of composure, betrayed no emotion, resembling a finely crafted mask concealing the raging inferno of need inside.

She had no idea what she was doing. All she knew was that she needed to.

König as if recoiling from her stepped back until his back found the wall.

He was trapped with her, and she could see the panic claw its way over his anger.

As Ophelia closed the distance between them, her footsteps echoed with a measured cadence.

König's breaths came in sharp inhales as she got closer, his gaze never moving from her face.

Ophelia, now standing in front of him, locked eyes with him as she raised her chin defiantly.

He seemed to think this was her fault.

That she had started this.

But he had.

The first day he had fled from her like a little bird escaping the snapping jaws of a fox.

His blue eyes churned like water as he stared down at her.

Her gaze hardened like flint as stared into the maelstrom of his fury.

"Turn the light off," Ophelia uttered the words with a stiffness that hung heavy in the air, a command that cut through the room.

The man, taken aback by the abruptness of her request and the sharpness in her tone, blinked in confusion.

His eyes widened as he searched hers, seeking an explanation.

She didn't give him one.

Just stared at him with an empty expression.

Without a word, he reached for the switch, and with a decisive flick, the room succumbed to an inky blackness that swallowed every hint of light.

She was almost surprised that he had done it.

Had given in so easily.

Without the light, the room transformed into a cavern of shadows, where shapes dissolved into formless silhouettes.

Ophelia, shrouded in darkness, her features hidden from the man who moments ago had met her gaze with uncertainty.

She could feel the concrete floor beneath her, the tactile embrace of the darkness hugging them close.

In this lightless void, the boundaries between them blurred, and the world outside ceased to exist.

He, too, was now invisible to her, his presence a mere echo in the vast emptiness.