The Nechi's Wife

✣ chapter twenty-four ✣

damn, it's been a hot minute hunh. I had a lot of personal things going on, so I'll be honest, this story wasn't my main priority. I apologize for the long wait, as I always do, but I feel less guilty for this temporary hiatus.

...

His skin is so slick. So hot. So repulsive.

Oil. Heat.

It's him.

Him.

And then—

complete darkness.

He had been in front of me. I had felt his breath blowing in my face, heard the rumble of his evil laughter, but now he was nowhere to be found. Why was it so dark?

A mumble in the air brought the realization that I had woken up. The darkness was from the lack of candlelight, not a twisted dream.

Flynd was beside me, softly breathing but I wished he was awake, so I could draw more comfort from him. The nightmare had left me feeling greasy and nauseated. As if any of this was somehow my fault.

Flynd shifted in the bed but the alertness of his movement and the accuracy of his gaze told me he was not asleep. "How long have you been awake?" He asked.

"I just woke now," I murmured back as I sank lower into the sheets. I was so glad he was awake. "And you?"

He slightly chuckled though most of it was muffled by his pillow. "I haven't been able to sleep very soundly. Not since you came into my room."

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn't stop thinking..." He answered as he sat up on his elbow. "Just remembering...what we did."

I stifled an embarrassed giggle. "Oh...I see."

Indeed, it was a strange new facet of our relationship. We had made love. Something normal and encouraged of newlywed couples, but entirely unexpected from us. Mainly, something unexpected from me.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

"Yes."

"Don't fret, Ayan, you'll be alright."

His comment felt like a piece of cloth on a bullet wound. Perhaps he didn't realize how everything—the oil, the weight, the hair—had penetrated all aspects of my thoughts. Every day, I woke up gasping for air I'd taken for granted. Thinking he might come back and take it again. It was as if he was still here, with me, always.

"Tell me about how you were before me," I whispered, desperate to think about anything other than him.

I couldn't tell if Flynd was astonished by my command, it was too dark to see his facial features, but he saw right through me, "Do you need a distraction?"

"I figured this would be a good time to learn more about you," I said. "And perhaps help me take my mind off him."

Flynd chuckled quietly. For some reason, I wished I could see his eyes. "I was a rascal. To say the least."

"A rascal?"

"I loved to throw balls. I was always hosting some sort of festivity. Not to mention, I was an incorrigible flirt."

"Oh really?"

"Let me get on with my story," He chuckled, detecting the sarcasm in my tone. "I was a failure in Father's eyes. But I didn't care. It was only when mother died that I realized I needed to mature. I would be King one day, and I didn't want a legacy that dishonored her."