The Homecoming
1199 Words
Isla’s POV
I awoke to a throbbing pain in my head.
It was as though somebody was striking my skull internally. My throat was parched and the eyes were sore and the room was spinning around a little when I attempted to open my eyes.
I moaned and moved and stood still.
But something pressed my bladder.
I looked down slowly and my heart jumped.
A man’s arm.
My breath caught in my throat.
I struggled myself to sit erectly, my head throbbing with the action. The house was dark, the curtains were half-drawn, and the light came in through the cracks. The place looked unfamiliar. A small couch. A low table. Dark walls. A faint odor of liquor and something warm and clean which I could not identify.
Then it hit me.
Everything.
The bar. The drinks. The man I thought was staff. The money. The embarrassment. The talking. The laughing. The way he smelled. The manner in which he had faltered at my request that he remain. How I had first grabbed his collar and kissed him. And how his hands had trembled a little, before he drew me nearer.
The private room.
The couch.
The clothes coming off.
My cheeks burned.
I looked down again.
I was naked.
Completely naked.
Slowly I turned my head aside and my pulse shot up.
He was still asleep.
His features were easy, his breathing low and even. One of his arms was buried under his head, and the other was still across my waist, as though he had no intention of releasing it even in his sleep.
I stared at him a second.
In the morning light he was a different looking man. Softer. Younger. Less on his guard than he had been last night.
And all at once I felt a panic.
What had I done?
I very carefully took his arm off my waist, and slipped under it as noiselessly as I could. My muscles were sore where I did not want them to be sore. When I got up my head ached once more.
My clothes were lying on the floor.
I dressed quickly.
I shook my hands pulling my underwear, my dress, my shoes. I didn’t look back at him again. I couldn’t.
I took my purse and crept away.
The bar was mostly empty now. The employees did not pay much attention to me, just as I past the counter and left through the door.
The air of the morning struck my face and I drew in a deep breath.
“What did you just do, Isla?” I whispered.
I lifted my hand and pulled a taxi.
“Downtown,” I told the driver.
The journey back to my apartment was unreal. I was leaning my head up against the window, half closing my eyes, with my thoughts confused and loud.
Upon arriving home I went straight to the bathroom and turned on the shower.
The hot water helped a little.
I stood there more than usual, washing my skin as though I could wash the night. My chest felt tight. I could twist my stomach every time I saw his face in my mind.
I didn’t let myself dwell on it.
I dried up and got wrapped in a towel and proceeded to pack.
I slowly went about my apartment, only taking what I had use of. Clothes. Shoes. Toiletries. A few personal things. My novels. My laptop.
Everything else stayed.
It was the time when my suitcase was full, and I zipped it and stood in the middle of my living room.
This was where I could feel safe.
My freedom.
My normal life.
I looked around one last time.
“Goodbye,” I whispered.
I picked up my suit case, closed the door, and ordered another taxi.
In this case, I informed the driver as I provided him with information about the jet terminal.
He nodded and drove off.
Within a few minutes I was at the base of sleek white jet with the Vensora royal crest on its side.
Employees have hurried up to me as soon as I got out of the vehicle.
One of them said bowing a little, Your Highness.
I stiffened.
“I’m not—” I started.
And they were even now taking my suitcase.
I will have this, your highness, another said.
They were behaving as though I was queen.
I hated it.
I got into the jet silently and took my seat in the big leather chair by the window.
When the plane was flying off, I could see the city fading out the clouds.
My chest tightened.
There was no turning back now.
Another few hours later, the jet landed in Vensora.
I was all a-thumping when the door opened.
The warm air hit my face.
The smell of home. The kind I didn’t miss.
I stepped out slowly.
Adrian stood at the lower end of the stairs.
He smiled when he saw me.
I nearly cried.
I ran down and embraced him.
“Hey baby,” he said, placing a kiss on my forehead. “Welcome home.”
Behind him were council members. Palace staff lined up neatly.
They bowed.
I felt small.
My baggage was carried off at once.
“Your Highness,” one of the council members said. “We are pleased you have arrived safely. You should go clean up and rest. Lunch will be served shortly. There is much to discuss before dinner with the invited guests.”
I nodded stiffly.
After they left, Adrian guided me through the palace halls.
The place looked the same.
Too big. Too quiet. Too cold.
When we reached my chambers, I dropped my bag and turned to him.
Tears burst out of my eyes.
“I don’t want this,” I sobbed. “Please take the throne back. I can’t do this.”
He pulled me into his arms.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “The choice has been made.”
“I’m scared,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said. “Go take your bath. I’ll come get you for lunch.”
I nodded weakly.
He left.
I took a long bath.
When I stepped out, I opened the wardrobe.
It was full of gowns.
Big. Heavy. Formal.
Nothing like my crop tops and pants.
I sighed and picked the simplest one.
I put it on and sat on the bed.
I arranged my novels by the bedside slowly.
Waiting.
Waiting.
I got bored.
My eyes grew heavy.
I fell asleep.
A light tap on my hand woke me up.
I gasped and sat up.
Adrian stood there smiling.
“I’m sorry!” I said quickly. “Is this gown okay for lunch?”
He laughed.
“That’s a sleeping gown,” he said. “And it’s dinner now. You slept through lunch.”
My eyes widened.
“Is that bad?” I asked. “Will I be punished?”
He giggled shook his head.
“Sit,” he said. “Don’t worry. I handled it.”
He sat beside me and looked serious.
“There is something we need to talk about.”
- Writer
