𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐟 𝐀 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 || 16+

....✿︎🥀✿︎....

"How come, I ended up like this?"

God knows how ended up here but when I opened my eyes, I found myself in an unfamiliar room with a familiar scent mixed in the air.

Just as I tried to move a muscle, a sudden sting of pain jolted my body and a series of memories started flowing in my mind.

Those women bowing in front of me, then Cedric with other woman and when I wanted to walk away from him, my fate brought him in front of me again. But this time, not as the villain but as my saviour.

If it hadn't been for him, who knows what must have happened. But what was he doing there then? And why was that woman with him? Does he know her?

But more than anything, why do I feel wet on forehead? And why do I have a bitter taste in my mouth? Did I eat something bitter while unconscious?

Just as I shifted my body, I noticed another thing. My body feels...heavy?

When I looked at that direction with my half open eyes, I noticed a man sleeping while keeping a hand on my waist. His hair cascaded on his forehead in such a way as if trying to hide his eyes from the world.

His even breathing were both a source of relief and fear. His big eyes closed with his thick eyebrows in a show for me.

Who is he?

My shift in motion was caught when the man tightened his grip and pulled me closer to him and only when our faces were barely touching, did I notice that I knew the man.

Cedric!

But how? And why? Don't tell me he took care of me?

I moved my hand to my the wet cloth, once cold, now hot and removing it from my head, I kept it aside, on the side table and looked at his closed eyes, finding clues if he is awake.

But finding no such clue, I was at relief yet at some part, it stung. Because I needed answers. If he was bored of me then he should have saved me back then, right?

He could have just ignored it and not persuade me anymore and I would have gladly appreciated it without letting my heart throb in pain because of him.

But he chose to stay silent and show it off that I mean nothing to him.

Rustle.

His hand moved upwards on my body and almost at the point of touching my busts when I noticed that I was no longer in that saree.

It was a silk gown, a nightgown to be specific. A pretty shade of peach with white lace around the ends of the half-sleeves.

Did he change my clothes? So that means he's seen it all?

And no shoes or sandals on my feet felt free yet warm, under the blanket.

I scanned the entire room with my naked eyes and saw the pretty sculptures filled room with less furniture and more of empty space.