Queens Do Not Beg
972 Words
Chapter 11
The private ward was quiet now.
Soft yellow light spilt from the bedside lamp, washing the room in a gentle glow. The faint hum of medical equipment blended with the distant shuffle of nurses in the corridor. Outside the window, the night sky stretched endlessly, city lights flickering like distant stars.
Athenna sat propped against white pillows, her posture composed but fragile. The earlier swelling around her throat had reduced, yet her face still carried exhaustion — not just physical but emotional.Layla sat on the couch near the window, unusually silent.
For the first time since they had met, there was no tension in the room.
Only vulnerability.
Athenna studied her quietly.
This girl.
Her husband’s mistress.
was sitting beside her hospital bed after seeing her at her weakest.
After seeing her almost collapse.
After witnessing her humiliation.
Athenna didn’t know what she felt.
Anger? Pride? Gratitude? Shame?
She sighed.
“Go on,” Athenna said softly, staring at the ceiling. “Laugh atme.”
Layla blinked. “What?”
“I know I look pathetic.” Her voice was calm, but brittle. “The perfect Athenna. The admired wife. The role model. Reduced to… this.”
Layla’s expression hardened instantly.
“For someone who has been a role model to me for the longest,” she said sharply,standing up, “you are really disappointing yourself with that attitude.”
Athenna turned her head slowly, surprised.
“Excuse me?”
“Why would you call yourself pathetic?” Layla continued, her eyes blazing. “Do you know how many girls look at you and see hope? You walk into rooms, and people straighten their backs. You speak, and they listen. You dress, and it becomes a trend. You breathe and insecure girls learn confidence.”
Her voice trembled — not with fear but with anger.
“And now you’re lying here calling yourself pathetic because of one man?”
Athenna stared at her.
Confusion flickered across her face.
Was this girl—
Her fan?
Layla’s fists clenched. In her mind, she saw Brixton’s cold smile. His calculated cruelty. The pork.
That bastard had taken a queen and tried to shrink her into something small.
Athenna let out a soft chuckle.
“You girls are really creative,” she said, amusement dancing faintly in her tired eyes. “So this is your strategy? Praise me. Lower my guard. Make me sympathetic. Then replace me as his wife?”
She tilted her head slightly, a faint smirk forming.
“Impressive, actually.”
Layla’s breath caught.
God.
Even pale and exhausted,Athenna was breathtaking.
Her sharp jawline. Her smooth skin. The quiet strength in her posture.
Layla blinked rapidly.
Why is she this handsome? she wondered helplessly. Am I… questioning my sexuality right now?
She cleared her throat.
“You have every right to think that way,” Layla said softly.
Then—
She bowed her head.
“I’m sorry.”
The word hung in the air, heavy and sincere.
Athenna’s amusement faded.
Layla continued, her voice steady but raw.
“I am in a contract with your husband because of my situation. My mother is sick. I had no money. No support. No degree worth mentioning. Your husband offered me something I couldn’t refuse.”
Her fingers trembled slightly.
“I’m not proud of it. I wake up every day ashamed. But desperation doesn’t ask for pride.”
The room fell silent except for the faint beeping of the monitor.
Layla swallowed.
“If you want to hate me, I understand. If you want to end me, I won’t blame you. But I sincerely hope… for your forgiveness.”
Athenna was too stunned to speak.
She had expected manipulation.
Excuses.Defensiveness.
Not this.
Not humility.
Not honesty.
Before she could respond—
The door burst open.
“Athenna!”
A tall, muscular man rushed in,breath slightly uneven as if he had sprinted down the corridor.
Bryan.
He had an effortlessly magnetic presence — broad shoulders stretching beneath a fitted black shirt, tattoos peeking out from beneath his sleeves. His skin glowed under the hospital lights, and his eyes — intense and warm — were locked entirely on Athenna.
He crossed the room in seconds and pulled her into a tight embrace.
“For God’s sake, woman,” he muttered against her hair, voice thick with emotion. “Is it when you kill yourself that you’ll finally feel alright?”
“Bryan,” Athenna groaned softly. “You’re crushing me.”
“Oh— sorry.” He immediately loosened his grip, though his hands remained on her shoulders as if afraid she would disappear.
His jaw tightened as he scanned her face for injuries.
Only then did he notice Layla.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
She didn’t look like a nurse.
He turned to Athenna silently, asking for an explanation.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Protective.
Possessive.
Concerned.
Layla felt it.
She stepped back.
“I’ll excuse myself,” she said quickly.
Athenna looked at her — conflicted — but said nothing.
As Layla walked toward the door, she couldn’t stop the small smile creeping onto her lips.
Bryan’s panic.
The way he held Athenna.
The anger in his voice because he cared too much.
Oh.
So the queen was not alone.
Layla stepped into the hallway,the door closing softly behind her.
And then—
She giggled quietly to herself.
“She deserves that,” she whispered under her breath.
She loved seeing women choose themselves.
Loved seeing them realize they didn’t have to beg for crumbs of affection.If Brixton wanted to play games, he might just find himself losing the very crown he thought he owned.
Layla walked down the corridor lighter than before.
Inside the ward, Bryan was still scolding Athenna gently, brushing hair from her face, his thumb stroking her cheek with unspoken devotion.
- Writer
