Bound By Fate

Walls of Silence

Sam stood outside Mon’s room, her hand hovering near the door handle, her heart pounding louder than she wanted to admit. Why was she so nervous? She was the Princess of this realm, a goddess in disguise, yet standing there felt as though she were a mere mortal seeking permission to breathe in Mon’s presence. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself, but the knot in her chest only tightened.

Inside the room, Mon sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped tightly together. Her mind churned with thoughts she couldn’t escape. Why had she been brought here? She was supposed to be a slave, yet she hadn’t been treated as one since stepping into this palace. The room she was given was unlike anything she had ever known—soft bedding, warm sunlight streaming through ornate windows, and food far richer than she’d ever tasted.

Her mind raced to one horrifying possibility. Was she brought here to be someone’s mistress? The thought made her stomach twist painfully. Mon wasn’t naïve; she’d heard stories of young women being bought for such purposes. Her heart sank as she thought of her stepmother, her father, and their utter disregard for her. She clenched her fists, the anger and fear surging through her veins like fire.

Before she could drown in her thoughts, the door creaked open. Sam stepped inside, the dim light catching on her regal figure. She stood tall, dressed in simple yet elegant robes, her long hair cascading like a river over her shoulders. For a moment, the two locked eyes—Sam’s gaze soft, uncertain, and Mon’s filled with fear and suspicion.

The sight of Mon’s fear struck Sam like a blade. Her eyes, wide and cautious, screamed of the life she had endured—the betrayal, the pain, the utter lack of trust in anyone. Sam felt a lump rise in her throat. She wanted to reach out, to assure Mon that she wasn’t here to harm her, but she knew better than to act rashly. Instead, she steadied her voice, masking her emotions with a casual tone.

“So, you’re Mon,” Sam began, her words deliberate, her demeanor calm. “You’re twenty years old, and your parents sold you for twenty million. How... unfortunate.” She paused, pretending to inspect the room as if her words hadn’t just cut through the tense silence. “I feel pity for you.”

Mon’s breath hitched. Pity? Was that all she deserved now? She tightened her grip on her own hands, keeping her head low.

Sam waited for a response but got none. The silence was suffocating. She stepped closer, her boots clicking softly against the marble floor, and continued, “Well, I didn’t bring you here to be anyone’s slave. You’re free within the palace grounds. Do whatever you like. But don’t go outside. I wouldn’t put it past your stepmother to sell you again.”

Her tone was casual, even teasing, but her words carried an undeniable weight. Sam had hoped to lighten the tension, to make Mon feel safe, but Mon’s rigid stance didn’t waver.

Mon stood like a statue, her face blank but her eyes storming with emotions she refused to let out. Freedom? What freedom was this? She had been “freed” into another prison, albeit a gilded one.

Sam’s voice softened as she tried one last time. “You can speak now, Mon. You don’t have to be silent here.”

Mon opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat. She wanted to scream, to cry, to demand answers, but all she could manage was a faint, trembling, “Thank you.”

It wasn’t gratitude—it was fear. And Sam knew it. Her heart ached, her resolve nearly crumbling under the weight of Mon’s brokenness. But she couldn’t falter, not now. She had to earn Mon’s trust slowly, carefully.

The moment was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by a maid’s voice. “Your Highness, your sister Wan has arrived and awaits you in the main hall.”

Sam stiffened, her expression immediately guarded. “Very well,” she said, turning back to Mon one last time. “Rest. You’re safe here, Mon. That’s all you need to know for now.”

Mon didn’t reply, her gaze fixed on the ground. Sam hesitated, her hand twitching as though she wanted to reach out, but she stopped herself. With a small sigh, she turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

As Sam walked down the corridor, her mind raced with conflicting emotions. She had seen countless mortal lives in her time, but nothing had ever struck her as deeply as Mon’s pain. She was determined to protect her, to show her a life free from suffering, but deep down, Sam feared she might already be failing.

Back in the room, Mon sat motionless, her heart heavy with confusion. Sam’s words echoed in her mind. You’re safe here. But safety was a foreign concept to her—a dream she didn’t dare believe in.

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