Gift or Trap
1383 Words
The silence after he left, was overwhelming and Kiara attempted to ease the tension.
She turned back to the table. “Join me,” she said to the maids standing nearby.
They all shook their heads instantly, like birds startled by a hawk.
“I insist.”
Still, they hesitated.
“It’s an order.”
The moment the words left her lips, they froze. Slowly, nervously, they looked at each other before approaching, deliberately avoiding the chair Rihan had just vacated.
As Kiara lifted the lid of her dish, something inside her chest cracked.
She stared.
Delicate slices of meat arranged like flowers. A bed of spiced grains nestled in the center. Soft vegetables laced with cream and herbs on the side. Her breath caught.
This dish…
Her mother used to make it. Back when the world still felt kind. When sorrow hadn't permanently etched itself into her bones.
She blinked. Once. Twice.
Tears welled in her eyes without warning.
She scooped a bite and placed it in her mouth.
The taste was identical.
How?
She chewed slowly, willing her face to remain composed. But her hand trembled slightly as she set the spoon down.
“My Lady?” Anna asked, her voice soft.
Kiara looked up, quickly dabbing her eyes.
“Are you alright?” another maid added, visibly concerned.
Kiara exhaled shakily, offering a small smile. “No—it’s not bad. I love it, actually. My mum used to prepare this for me when I was little. Especially when I was upset. I haven’t seen it made like this in years…”
The maids exchanged quiet glances and smiled.
“What?” Kiara asked, a little amused despite herself.
One of them, cheeks flushed, stepped forward. “His Highness asked the kitchen to prepare it. Personally. He wanted it to be exact. The head maid was terrified of getting it wrong… so she made sure everyone helped.”
Kiara froze mid-bite.
She stared down at her plate.
No. That couldn’t be right.
He didn’t even speak to her. Barely looked her way. Why would he…?
She waved the thought away. Coincidence. It had to be.
Still… her throat felt tight.
She forced herself to eat slowly, letting the familiar warmth of the food ease the cold confusion that wrapped around her.
Later, as she walked back with Anna, Kiara noticed the angry red mark blooming on the maid’s wrist.
She gasped softly. “That’s bruised…”
“I’m fine, Your Highness,” Anna said, quickly hiding her hand.
Kiara sat her down and opened a nearby drawer, pulling out a small jar of ointment. She gently applied it to Anna’s wrist, her fingers careful.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
Anna blinked. “For what, my lady?”
“For his behavior.”
“He didn’t mean to, I think,” Anna whispered. “It was instinct.”
Kiara said nothing. But her mind raced.
What kind of man acted like that? What kind of husband ignored his wife entirely… but then went out of his way to recreate her childhood meal?
It didn’t make sense.
Later, in her chambers, Kiara sat by the window, her book forgotten in her lap. She’d been staring out at the garden for what felt like hours, her thoughts tangled.
“My lady?” Anna’s voice drew her back.
Kiara looked over.
“Should I peel some fruit for you? Or fetch more books?”
Kiara shook her head. “No… I’m fine. Thank you.”
Anna hesitated, sensing something deeper, but bowed and stepped away.
Alone again, Kiara sighed.
She didn’t like this.
She didn’t like that he was the one ignoring her. That he had the power to stir her thoughts with silence and sudden gestures.
She hadn’t come here to be some lonely consort, imprisoned in silk and forgotten in empty corridors.
She hadn’t come to sit idly, waiting for him to notice her.
No.
She was here to ruin him.
To unravel his order. To tear through every guarded wall he’d built around himself.
If he wanted to keep her locked away in silence, he would find she was not a woman who accepted invisibility. If he thought she would melt under the pressure of his coldness, he was mistaken.
She would shatter every rule.
And she would break him—before he ever had the chance to break her .
----
Rihan returned after midnight.
He opened the door without a sound, stepping into the dim-lit room like a shadow. The soft rhythm of her breathing greeted him—deep and even. Fast asleep.
He paused just inside the door.
Stillness filled the space between them. The kind that wrapped around his chest and squeezed—not painful, but too heavy to ignore.
She was lying on her side, her arms curled beneath her head. The book she had been reading was still resting against her chest, again , half-fallen from her hand. He had found her in the same position yesterday.Her lashes cast delicate shadows across her cheeks. She looked peaceful.
Unlike him.
He moved silently, loosening his outer robe and hanging it over the low divider. His eyes drifted toward the locked door at the far side of the room. His stare lingered there briefly, then shifted back to Kiara.
She hadn’t moved.
He walked to the bed and sat at the edge, careful not to disturb her sleep. With steady hands, he lifted the book away. Her fingers curled instinctively at the loss of its weight, but she didn’t stir.
His gaze lingered.
There was something about her in sleep. The absence of walls. The gentleness of someone untouched by cruelty—at least not the kind that left people hollow inside. Her face was soft now, unguarded. Nothing like the woman who had called him out at breakfast with quiet defiance.
She was beautiful. She had always been. But it wasn’t just that.
She was dangerous.
Not in the way his enemies were. No—she was worse.
She was a distraction.
A trap he wasn’t even sure was real.
He had planned for everything—every betrayal, every political storm, every poisoned smile behind courtly masks. But he hadn’t planned for her. Not this softness. Not this... haunting comfort she brought into the cold world he had built for himself.
He hated that she distracted him.
He hated that her smile lingered in his mind longer than his strategy scrolls.
He hated that when she wasn't in the room, the palace felt more like a graveyard.
And he really hated that some part of him… didn’t mind.
She stirred in her sleep.
“Mum,” she whispered faintly, voice trembling.
His head snapped up. His entire body moved before his mind caught up. He leaned toward her, sharply alert, concern pulling at his expression.
“Don’t go… please.”
She sounded like a child again. Lost. Vulnerable.
A pang hit his chest unexpectedly. He hadn't known she still grieved this deeply. He hadn't thought her grief could speak so closely to his own.
Then—she smiled.
The tiniest curve of her lips. Peaceful. Sweet.
It wasn't a nightmare. She was dreaming of something better. Of someone she missed.
He exhaled slowly, his hand hovering inches from her shoulder. He didn’t touch her. He didn’t dare. He just sat there, watching. Waiting. Feeling… too much.
But before he could stand—
She spoke again.
Clearer. Not as soft. Not asleep.
“Rihan.”
His body froze.
Her eyes didn’t open. Her breathing didn’t change. But her voice was firm. Certain.
“You’re there,” she added, a whisper that slid through the air like a blade sheathed in silk.
He said nothing.
He couldn’t.
Was she awake? Dreaming? Or—was she just toying with him?
But then, she said it.
“I think I’ve figured out what’s behind that door.”
His entire body went still.
The door.
That cursed door.
And somehow, she had noticed it. Thought about it. Wondered.
She had been watching him, too.
And maybe... just maybe... she was closer than he thought.
His gaze shifted from the bed to the locked door again.
And for the first time in years, he felt the ghost behind it stir.
- Writer
