Ruthless Rival

A yelp escaped my mouth. Nothing could prepare me for the pain I felt in that moment. Like someone had reached into my chest, breaking my rib cage in the process, and clawed my heart out, twisting it ruthlessly in their fist. Christian was Nicholai. Nicholai was Christian. Nicky wasn’t dead. He’d been here all along. Lurking in the shadows, planning his grand revenge for what my family had done to him, no doubt. The trial. The sentence. The conquest. The girl who’d turned into a woman, who’d turned into a tool. Me.

Each day I ignored his invitation, my resolve would crack a little wider. A tad deeper. I would watch him in actiob in court, my gut filled with anger and longing, and exasperation, too, because for the first time in my life, I couldn't tell if someone was an ally or an enemny. Most of all, I observed Christian with fear, because I suspected he ´d figured out that I wasn't coming to court for Dad anymore. I was coming to court for him.

« What? What do you want from me, Christian?

Everything, and nothing at all.

Your tears, your apologies, your regret, and your body.

Most of all, I want You to remember. What we used to be. And what we can never be anymore.