My Enemy, My Love

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔒𝔫𝔢

𝒫𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝓎𝓂𝑒

I didn't notice him at first, standing between the table by the front entrance to the library and the large, towering bookshelf. He might have been there for twenty minutes - or less - talking to those girls while I sat, crossed legged on a chair, diligently cramming for our final exams next week. Next to me, Anurak and Meili were ruthlessly highlighting the life out of their politics&economics notes, tapping their pens aggressively on the page in a state of utter disarray and pure-confusion. I was supposed to be doing the same, or contributing to some aspect of helping them out, but for whatever brilliant reason, that face only a mere ten-step walk away from us, had captured my attention. For a brief moment, I focused on him, trying to figure out what, in God's name, he was doing here. 

Luka. Even the thought of his name tasted bitter on my tongue. Like every time we met, he wore large, rectangular sunglasses to shield his over-sensitive eyes from the overpowering shine of the school's indoor lights - or just to showcase that he had the money to afford them - which I frequently struggled to see the the charm in, frankly speaking. He wore a blue, woollen jumper, and his collar, crisp and white like his trousers, were neatly tucked out over the V-neck. His hair was drawn back and styled into a neat, mid-line parting, and his earring - a small, silver hoop - complimented his fine chain necklace. 

His witch-like laugh echoed through the library, evoking a strident hush from one of the students at the table opposite us. 

"Thyme, test me on these definitions," Meili whispered, pushing her copy book and notes page over to me. At least her interruption pulled my gaze away from Luka, settling on the illegible chaos of words, colours, and doodles that presented themselves to me. I stared at her notes with unease, then at her, but fulfilled my duty as the best pre-exam quizzer and read through her bullet points with scrutiny and amusement.

For the last year, this routine had been our lives - endless study sessions, late night grinds, and a caffeine reliant diets to fuel our energy for the day. Anurak and Meili used alternative habits to mine - the majority of the time, they got up early to work, write, and recite. I never found the heart to follow that; waking up at 6 a.m. was not on my cards with much enthusiasm, as it was something I had to suffer with every morning at the Palace. Mother insisted that "the early bird catches the worm," but I always joked that it caught mood swings, irritability, and heavy grudges.

I will never be a morning person. Ever.

Royal duties mostly interfered with my sleep pattern, and at home, I rarely had the opportunity to find the time, quiet, or a moment to rest. My father, the King of Bangkok, had enrolled me into the duties of Princelyhood since the age of 13 and hardly let me out of his sight being the heir to the throne - open events, public processions, balls, and important meetings with Lords, Governors, Monks, and the sons and daughters of our neighbouring Kingdoms were a continuous schedule. And those duties only intensified the older I got, and the more aware I became of matters of warfare, the country's political situation, and the meaning of a total monarchical collapse. 

Luka was one of those sons. The Prince of Chonburi.

Meili pushed my arm with the sort of impatience that likely indicated I had fallen into a deep daydreaming. "Next question," she insisted, tapping the page eagerly with her pen. "I'm getting hungry, but before we can go eat, I need to have these answers drilled into my system."

I refocused on the bullet point, feeling my own stomach churn with pending hunger. Meili was the daughter of Lord Sonai, one of the wealthiest lords of Phuket. She had something of her father's nature, interested in the welfare of those around her, and was a patreon of good causes, charity, and affinative to religion. But, she had a fierceness to her, a strong mind to fight with, and at times came across as a bossy, prudent, and hot-tempered individual with no other purpose in life than to insult those that dared to aggravate her.