𝓑𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓜𝓸𝓸𝓷

Chapter-41

*•.¸♡ AUTHOR'S POV ♡¸.•*

A soft breeze whispered through the garden, rustling the leaves and bushes in a soothing chorus. The gentle sound wrapped around the space like a lullaby, calm and quiet.

Decorative curtains hung from the pillars swayed lightly, their fabric fluttering in rhythm with the wind. The scene was serene—peaceful, almost dreamlike—but it did little to reach the person standing silently beneath the shaded pavilion.

Myra stood alone between the pillars, a little distance from the building where the celebration was still alive with music and voices. She had come here hoping for peace, needing a break from the storm she had just walked through.

Her gaze was fixed on a stone fountain a few steps away, its water flowing steadily, untouched by the chaos she felt inside. But her eyes—her eyes told a different story. There was hurt there, a kind of restless ache that still clung to her after the confrontation with Varka. 

She had stood her ground and said what needed to be said. But even after walking away, the emotions hadn't left her. They churned inside, too tangled to name.

Without thinking, she had wandered from the crowd, letting instinct guide her steps until she found this quiet corner. It wasn't total peace, but it was enough—for now.

In the stillness of her solitude, Myra heard the familiar sound of heavy footsteps approaching from behind. She didn't need to turn—she already knew who it was.

A moment later, two hands landed on the railing beside hers, one on each side, caging her gently in place. His presence wrapped around her like a warm shield, his nearness grounding her. It felt like home.

"I told you I'd come get you if you didn't return in fifteen minutes," came a low, gravelly voice against her ear. Diego's head rested lightly on her shoulder, his hair brushing against her bare skin, sending a soft tickle across her collarbone.

"You didn't cause a scene, did you?" Myra asked quietly, her voice low but laced with concern. At her words, she felt the subtle shift in his body—his muscles tightening just slightly against her back.

"My wife's sweet, lively voice vanished into silence," he said, his tone dark with a protective edge. "And you think I would've let that go?" There was a fierceness in his voice, a quiet promise beneath the words. One that said he'd burn down the world for her if it ever came to that.

Myra's expression didn't change, though a flicker of something—hope, maybe—passed through her eyes. She hoped he hadn't done anything too harsh. She knew how far his protectiveness could reach when it came to her.

"Not all of them were to blame," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just one." Her words were gentle, a quiet plea not to punish those who had only stood by.

Diego's grip on the railing tightened. She couldn't see it, but she felt the tension roll off him in waves. His jaw clenched. To him, silence in the face of disrespect was the same as guilt. Why should he spare the ones who stood idle while someone dared to speak against his queen?

But then he exhaled slowly, forcing the fury back down where it wouldn't touch her.

"Fine," he said, at last, straightening behind her. His hand lifted from her shoulder with deliberate calm. "I won't lay a hand on the foolish ones who stayed quiet." He paused, his voice lowering with firm conviction.

"But you need to stop letting that woman's words live in your head. They mean nothing. She means nothing." As Diego finished speaking, he reached out and gently took hold of her arms, guiding her to face him.