Chapter 8
592 Words
Chapter 8:Beneath the Mask
The days passed with a strange stillness, and Vichen had once again returned to his aloof, unreadable self. He spoke when necessary—formally, distantly—and spent most of his time in council meetings or behind closed doors. It was as if the intensity of the past few days had never happened.
Ivory was confused.
He hadn’t touched her since that night. Hadn’t looked at her with the same hunger. Hadn’t even stepped too close. He had completely withdrawn.
And for reasons she couldn’t admit aloud, that bothered her.
She sat by the window of their shared room, her eyes scanning the empty courtyard below. She couldn’t help but wonder—was it something she said? Was this all just a game to him? Had he grown tired of her already?
Her pride burned with the thought.
“Good,” she muttered to herself. “Let him stay away. I don’t need him.”
But deep inside, her heart ached with something she couldn’t name. It wasn’t love—she barely knew him. It wasn’t desire—at least, that’s what she tried to tell herself. It was the uncertainty. The feeling of being seen, then suddenly invisible. Touched, then left in silence.
She heard the door open softly behind her.
Ivory stiffened but didn’t turn. She knew it was him.
Vichen walked in quietly, his steps controlled, the way they always were. She could feel his presence—strong, cold, yet magnetic. But he didn’t speak. He walked past her to the table and began reading a scroll as if she weren’t even there.
She clenched her fists.
“So, we’re strangers again?” she said sharply, not even realizing the words had escaped her lips.
He didn’t look up.
“You prefer silence now, Your Majesty?” she added with more bite.
Finally, he glanced at her. His eyes were cool, calm, as if nothing was wrong. “I didn’t know we were anything more than strangers, Princess.”
The words struck her harder than she expected.
She stood, walked toward him. “You think you can just play with people’s emotions? Show up when you want, walk away when it pleases you?”
“I never promised you anything,” he replied quietly, still not looking at her.
“No, you didn’t,” she snapped. “You just touched me, stared at me like I was the only thing that mattered, then vanished like none of it meant anything!”
He finally met her gaze, and this time, there was something there—something burning beneath his calm exterior.
“You don’t want me to act like a husband,” he said, standing slowly. “And when I do, you fight me. When I don’t, you question me. What exactly do you want from me, Ivory?”
She was speechless.
“I’m trying to give you space,” he continued. “I’m trying to respect your boundaries. But don’t confuse that for weakness. Don’t think I’ve lost interest.”
Her breath caught.
Vichen stepped closer but didn’t touch her. “I want you, yes. But not as a prisoner. And certainly not while you're unsure if you want me back.”
Ivory’s chest rose and fell, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Her voice softened. “Then stop confusing me…”
The silence that followed was thick.
“I confuse myself when I’m around you,” he admitted quietly.
Then he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there—conflicted, breathless, and shaken.
- Writer
