My Enemy, My Love

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔖𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫

Prince Ray [Pond]

I traced my fingers along the spines of the books lining the tall shelves of my father's study, feeling the grooves of gold lettering against my fingertips. The scent of parchment and aged leather filled the room, a fragrance that had lingered here for as long as I could remember.

I had never been particularly drawn to academic pursuits, nor had I possessed the patience to sit and study for hours as my tutors had always demanded. But here, surrounded by these thousands of volumes containing centuries of knowledge, I found myself wondering about the stories they held. Histories of war, philosophy, poetry, love.

Love.

How many of these books explored the depth of what I felt for Anurak? Were there any tales written about a man loving another man, of the pain that came with being denied the one thing the heart desired most? Was there any hope that history could teach me, any lesson to be learned from the lives of those before me? Or was I doomed to be just another name lost in the pages of time, a man forced into duty, shackled by obligation, unable to reach the one person who made life worth living?

My thoughts were interrupted by the heavy creak of the study door opening. My father entered with his usual measured pace, his expression as unreadable as ever. He walked past me without a glance, making his way to the grand desk in the center of the room. Stacks of correspondence, neatly arranged, awaited his attention. He sat, picking through them one by one, the flickering candlelight casting sharp shadows on his face.

"Lady Sarinda arrives at the palace tomorrow," he said at last, his voice measured, cool. "The day will begin with a formal greeting in the grand hall, followed by a tour of the gardens. You will accompany her, as expected. She is eager to meet you."

I clenched my jaw, my hands still resting against the bookshelves. "Yes, Father."

"She will also be attending the evening banquet. You will dance with her at least twice. It would be wise to make an impression."

I turned slightly, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "An impression?" I repeated, my voice colder than I intended.

"She is to be your wife, Ray. You will be her husband. The alliance with Krabi is crucial, and I expect you to conduct yourself accordingly." He set down the parchment he had been reading, finally looking at me with those piercing, scrutinizing eyes. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father," I replied stiffly, though I could feel the bitterness rise in my throat.

He nodded once, satisfied, and returned to his letters. My fists clenched at my sides. Every part of me wanted to lash out, to ask him if he had ever loved my mother, if he had ever felt the kind of all-consuming devotion that now burned me alive. But I knew it would be useless. Love had never been a factor in any of his decisions. Only duty. Only power.

"The day after the wedding, you will leave for the front lines," he continued, as though discussing nothing more than the change in the weather. "You have been appointed Major of Phuket's First Battalion. You should be proud. This is a great honor."

I swallowed hard. I had always longed to fight for my kingdom, to prove myself worthy on the battlefield. But now, the thought of war did not thrill me. It only deepened the void in my chest.

"Yes, Father," I said once more, my voice hollow.

A servant entered, handing me a letter sealed in familiar wax. My fingers trembled as I accepted it, my father's eyes flickering with curiosity.

"From Anurak?" he inquired, his voice carrying the slightest hint of disdain.

"A lingering feud," I answered quickly, tucking the letter into my coat. "He enjoys provoking me. No doubt another attempt at stirring resentment."

My father nodded, already moving on to his next document. "Do not waste time with frivolous quarrels. There are greater things at stake now," he said curtly, dismissing me with a wave of his hand.

I left the study, walking swiftly through the halls, barely aware of my surroundings. My heart pounded as I broke the seal, unfolding the parchment with unsteady fingers.

The moment my eyes scanned the words, my breath hitched in my throat.

Ray, my heart does not burn with your desire to fight for this war, nor do I feel it righteous to command men when I myself do not want or know what I fight for. But I will not cower behind the safety of my name. I will join the 1st Battalion as a soldier. Not a leader, not a noble, but a man with nothing left. Perhaps I will find purpose, or perhaps I will simply pray that the first bullet strikes me down. That would be a mercy, wouldn't it?

But if this war does not kill me, then my grief surely will.

The paper slipped from my hands as my vision blurred. I stumbled into my chambers, slamming the door shut behind me before my knees gave out. A broken, anguished sound tore from my throat as I clutched at my hair, my body wracked with uncontrollable shudders. My breath came in gasps, sharp and uneven. The pain was unbearable, a crushing weight on my chest, suffocating me, drowning me.

He was going to war. Not as a commander, not as a strategist—but as a soldier, ready to throw his life away. Because of me.

I had done this to him.

I buried my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking with sobs. The walls closed in around me, suffocating, relentless. The weight of everything—my duty, my engagement, my love for him—came crashing down, crushing me beneath it. I had thought I was prepared for this. I had thought I could endure it. But as I lay there on the cold floor, broken and lost, I realised how foolish I had been.

I could never be free of Anurak. And yet, I was about to lose him forever.

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