The Selection One Shots

Ghost (Kriss & Maxon)

Kriss's POV

It was obvious in the way he held my hand, the way he smiled, the way we posed for pictures. Even in the way we talked. It was as if we were haunted. Haunted by the ghost of America Singer. Not that she was dead but no longer apart of our lives. Well, at least I didn't want her to be. Did he?

We were having breakfast, the silence of the palace crushing our shoulders. His mother's face before death replayed in my mind as I chewed on a strawberry tart.

My husband, Maxon Schreave, coughed, adorably hiding it behind his right fist. "Do you like those?" he asked aloud, contesting the beast of quiet.

That's right. These were her favorite. I pushed the plate away and shifted in my seat so that I could see him better. I had to analyze his whole response to this question. My long dress, much too fancy for a lonely breakfast, dragged underneath the table. "I think they're okay. What do you think of them?"

He stared at me for a second then tilted his head. His soft lips parting as he breathed out a laugh. "That is certainly loaded question," he said, running a hand through his hair.

"They're a bit too sugary for my taste," Maxon stated absentmindedly. His auburn eyes were locked on the window now, surveying the grass outside and the woods that laid beyond there.

She had gotten lost in those woods before. During one of our attacks. I followed his gaze halfheartedly. I had once thought that having him in any capacity would be enough.

Was it?

Today was my birthday. Not that he had remembered. I awoke by myself yet thoroughly covered in our blanket. He always did that. Ever since I told him I got a little chilly at night. He truly was the most perfect magnificent man. But he wasn't mine.

I shuddered in the bedspread as the realization fully hit me. He wasn't mine. Of course, he hadn't remembered my birthday. Fat tears flowed down my cheeks, marking my poor pillows. For the first time in my life, I was jealous of America. Well, for the third time actually. The first time was on my birthday the year before.

I was sobbing when I heard the creaking of the door. I sunk further into the bed, hiding my face.

"Mary?" I called aloud, trying to stop the snot from affecting my voice.

I felt the left side of the bed sink and could smell watermelon. My favorite. Strong hands moved my chin, revealing the person to be Maxon.

"I look like Mary to you?" he said in a joking disbelief with the most handsome smile. Which quickly dropped. He moved the food to the bedside table before wrapping me in his arms. "What's wrong, love?"

"Today's my birthday," I sniffled out, gaining comfort purely from his touch.

"I know. So then you definitely shouldn't be crying! You know how much I hate that." He muttered that last part into my hair.

I giggled, my head securely on his chest. "I know! I just...I thought you had forgotten my birthday."

"How could I have possibly forgotten that? I wouldn't be a very good husband if I had."

He grabbed the platter he had brought in, placing it on my lap. "I was just making you breakfast. Learning again that I'm a terrible cook. I was supposed to be done hours ago. This was my eighth batch!"

I laughed again. "Eighth batch of watermelon?"

"Well first, I had this whole dish in mind. Egg Benedict, waffles, those blueberry muffins you like so much. But then Linda said I should dumb it down. She was right"

I could feel the vibrations of his voice, soothing me from head to toe. "Thank you! Thank you so much for being you." I kissed him longingly, my hands messing up his hair.

"If this is the reaction I get, then I will cook every morning!"

"Deal!"

He wasn't mine but I was his. It was awfully selfish. But I began to care less about that everyday. He was my King, my husband, my life. And slowly, the ghost of America Singer evaporated away.

**Hard knocked life for Kriss. Or is it?

**How do you feel about Kriss? I feel like people vary on the degree of hate lol**

**Thank you so much for reading! Have a great day!!**