Yes Your Highness 18+

04

"You sounded jealous, girl," Sasha remarked playfully, her tone breezy as we strolled through the bustling mall just a week later. The sunlight streamed through the skylights, illuminating the vibrant displays in the shops around us. She had finally wrangled permission from her parents to take me out for the day since it was the weekend, and she was eager to treat me to something nice in light of the impending wedding—an event that filled me with a confusing mix of dread and reluctance. It felt surreal, almost wrong, to be shopping for something that Riley would later see me in, as if I were dressing up for an occasion I never truly wanted.

A wave of discomfort washed over me at the thought of being pushed into this situation. Marriage was the last thing on my mind; I didn't even want to be Riley's mate. The fact that my refusal only seemed to stoke his entitlement and arrogance filled me with a simmering irritation. 

While we wandered through endless aisles filled with colorful cosmetics, Sasha hummed a cheerful tune, her fingers grazing the products as she searched for the perfect makeup that she insisted would enhance my features. To be honest, I was never one to embrace makeup; every time I experimented with it, I felt the sting of judgment from others, often being labeled a "slut" for simply trying to express myself. On top of that, I faced constant body shaming for not adhering to the expectations placed upon me regarding weight and appearance. It was disheartening.

"I'm going to say it again, and this is the last time, Sasha. I, Stephanie Myrtle, am NOT jealous," I asserted firmly, meeting her gaze with resolve. She shot me that all-too-familiar knowing look, the one that always hinted she saw right through my bravado. 

"C'mon, honey! The last time you were jealous over a guy was when you found out he was taken. And let's face it, Riley isn't taken—not yet," she teased, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Don't think that this means anything, Sasha. I refuse to marry a guy whose primary interest seems to be utilizing my body to produce an heir. I don't want to bear his—" I was abruptly interrupted as Sasha held up a stunning dress, vibrant and bold, right in front of my face, effectively cutting off my thoughts.

An elderly woman with striking grey hair approached me, her eyes sparkling with kindness. "Oh my, doesn't that dress look absolutely lovely on you! Why don't you slip into a fitting room and give it a try?" Her words wrapped around me like a warm hug. I mustered a grateful smile, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves as I accepted the dress from her. As I made my way to the changing room, my heart fluttered—only to collide gently with another girl just outside the door.

Of course, it was Samara. "Watch where you're going, freak." She said with an attitude. "Sorry..." I say, as kind as I could make it out to be. But she just scoffed. "You better be. I'm more important than you." I heard her voice, and it was starting to annoy me. I so badly wanted to rip her head off and feed it to the birds. "What's with the dress? Going on a date?" She asked, and I stayed quiet. Not knowing how to respond. "Oh, that's right. You aren't in love, I forgot. How silly of me. You must feel clumsy for going out and getting a dress for NOTHING." She thinks she was being smart about talking to me like I was stupid or something. But I was just as crude when it came to sarcasm. "Like I fucking care what you think." I say, sarcastically. I went to walk away then to be grabbed by my hair. She had the nerve to do this. In public? If she wants a fight then she's got one. I wasn't in the mood to deal with her shit. She was just one of those normal girls I wished I was like. But her? Much less now. I loudly snarled at her, baring my teeth at her as if it were like I were to bite her. She screamed and let me go. Sasha heard the scream and made it over to the changing room.