Isha

"Your Royal Highness, His Majesty is calling for you." Audrey, Calix's secretary approaches him the moment we step inside the main building of Nirvana.

"Can it not wait—"

"I am afraid not, Your Royal Highness," Audrey says, growing nervous for some reason. It seems they have an important matter to discuss.

"You should go," I say to the prince beside me, "I'll...wait."

What a sardonic occurrence. A few hours ago, Calix said the exact same words to me. Now here I am.

He smiles apologetically, "Well, you can wait for me in the library then. Audrey will show you where it is. It is the only entertaining thing on this floor."

"No problem," I answer, trying my best to contain the giddiness cooking inside, "I like reading."

"Very well then," with one last smile, Calix walks away, leaving me with Audrey who gives me a knowing grin.

I stare at her in confusion and awkwardness while also trying not to be rude before she decides to break the silence, "The library is this way, Miss Sen."

If I could, I would have built a house inside a library. But that is realistically not possible; at least for me.

I have never been to a royal library. Well, I did hear once or twice about Nirvana's famous, lush, gigantic library, filled with rich genres and variety of books. Now I know that the rumours are all true. Not anyone receives the ultimate opportunity of stepping inside Nirvana's library, but here I am.

Can I just stay here forever in this library, please? Because, oh my God. These books. The high shelves made out of oakwood. On top of that, pleasant music of Mozart's Symphony No. 40 is being played, somewhere in the depths of the many bookshelves, probably on a gramophone. Not long after, the fragrance of wispy orchid, mixed with the nuance of earthy, bookish smell, invades my nostrils. I do not even bother to acknowledge Audrey excusing herself from the library as I find myself diving deeper into a beautiful haze, meant for bibliophiles. My feet begin to move automatically, passing every bookshelf and reading the words labelled on each shelf for determining the different genre of the books.

My fingers graze against the thick spines of the books. It is spectacular how well the library is taken care of. Not a single speck of dust can be found either on the books, the shelves or any other part of the library.

As I keep exploring through the pile of tall bookshelves, from the small gap between two shelves, I find another spacious area. It is a mystery how big this library in reality is. The area tempts me with a lavishing couch at the centre and several other pillows meant for relaxation, and simply lying around in leisure. The gramophone producing Mozart's symphony is placed right beside the couch.

Perhaps I could find a book in one of my favourite genres and sit there on the couch while Calix takes his sweet time.

My heart skips a beat at the imagination of me giving into the ultimate comfort of the plush couch while drowning away from reality and into another world full of possibilities. Who knows? I could even achieve a writing stimulation for my unfinished novel while skimming through the books. With a smile on my face, I bend down to choose amongst the books on the third shelf of the aisle, that I was currently in. I am in the mystery-thriller section to be specific, and surrounded by many books that I have yet to read.

I once read a meme that a word called the Fuckening should exist. It implies the time when something finally goes down, as a result of your day going all too well throughout the day. My initial bubble of happiness bursts in an instant when I hear a voice, laced with an equivalent amount of shock and amusement.

"What a pleasant surprise to see you here, Isha."

Killian. Killian Winora. My past. The reason of my lingering, toxic feelings. My insecurity.

"Hi," I curtly reply before resuming my search for a suitable book. I need to get out of here.

"So," Killian drawls, casually walking past me and leans against the shelf right beside, too close, "What brings you here?"

"I could ask you the same thing." I snap lightly without raising my voice, although there is none but the two of us in this vast library. I scoot away as a reflex and move to another row in search of books.

Past me would have never talked back at him. Past me would have blindly agreed that everything has always been my fault. Past me had done a lot of things that she later regretted.

But present me has changed for the better. For myself. Present me knows what is right, what is wrong and that I should not be showered upon with insecurities; instead with love and care.

"Well," a disbelieving laugh leaves Killian's mouth, as he begins to trail behind me, making me uncomfortable in the process. He is smart enough to understand that I am not in need of any communication with him suddenly, one fine day, after more than a year. "I work here as an employee, for your information. Meaning, I have earned it through hard work and natural talent. Now to my question, what is someone like you doing at the Royal Palace's library?"

I remain silent at his constant jab of trying to get a reaction out of me. When he doesn't receive a response, he retorts pathetically.

"Oh, my bad. You have been getting a free ticket to everywhere these days because of your so-called boyfriend. Congratulations on seducing a royal prince."

I clench my fists and grit my teeth. Blood rushes to my ears and eyes, and I can only see red in front of me.

I turn around with a sweet smile. "Funny how you are petty enough to form wrongful assumptions and make comparisons with someone who has absolutely no relation to you."

"It's called caring for the sake of humanity, Isha." I slap his hand away when he tries to reach forward and touch my hair. If I hadn't known better, I would've almost thought that Killian is jealous. But I know better. And I have seen and experienced better.

I am not blind anymore to think of this as envy. Killian's pride has been crushed. I had been an object to him in the past. An object which he used and threw away whenever he wanted, without receiving any complain from me. He needed a good-for-nothing like me to compare his worth and feel prideful, eventually.

And now, that good-for-nothing has a stable and permanent job as a teacher at a prestigious school and is on the verge of becoming a published author. Well, besides being in touch with the Royal Palace. As far as I know, Killian feels threatened. He wants to claim back his object and crush down its value before it can rise higher than him.

The actual insecure one has forever been him. Not me. And I realized it after willingly staying in a toxic relationship for four years, hopelessly dreaming of a better future every single day, and letting him occupy my mind for one year, after he ended our relationship. I was pathetic even a month ago, when memories of genuine happy times spent with Killian, clouded my intoxicated brain at Lola's birthday.

I find myself asking often what would have happened if I had tried to let go of Killian completely? If I had gone to a therapist when I was at the lowest points of my life, instead of depending on him? If I hadn't shamelessly wanted to kiss Calix, thinking he was Killian that night?

The answer. None of this mess would've taken place. The insignificant heartbreak wouldn't have affected me to the point of me imagining someone else as Killian. And I would've gone with my life smoothly without having to come across my ex. Without having attention on me. Without any royal scandal associated to my name.

But, a small part of me yearns to know the unspeakable truth hiding inside. The answer to the question; What if I had never met Calix? What if I didn't get to laugh and enjoy little fluttering moments with the prince like I have never had before?

Even I know that the entry of Calix in my life has helped me in forgetting someone whom I should have, a long time back.

But what now, when my past has returned, and I am stuck in the middle of inner conflicts?

"You still seem to have a habit of daydreaming," Killian clicks his tongue in annoyance, breaking me free from my running thoughts, "Delusional and a hopeless dreamer, as always."

"Yet I have achieved a lot and am actually happy after our separation," I match his fiery intensity, although my insides are shivering, "I never got the opportunity to thank you for ending everything. It has truly been helpful."

"You have grown some nerve," Killian's jaw flexes, as a monstrous glint appears in his eyes. Something tells me it is better to leave now.

As I turn away to leave, he grabs my wrist and yanks me back. A painful gasp leaves my throat at the harsh pull.

"Killian leave," I struggle against his hold and the psychotic glint I never knew the man is capable of possessing, intensifies. And so does his grip on me, so much so, that I fear my bones might break.

Fear crawls into my brain at the revelation of Killian's brutal and hideous animosity. He is no longer in his senses.

I simply wish I had a book in my hand so that I could smack him. Even my bag was taken away by the palace-workers the moment I entered Nirvana.

I calculate other possibilities. We are away from bookshelves, so I cannot just take out a book to hit him. I have been cornered by him completely, preventing my knees from jerking up to kick him. Not to mention, before I can comprehend anything, my other free hand is in his grasp as well.

Another gasp of pain leaves me when Killian applies pressure and tries to twist my left arm. The only option left is me head-bumping him.

And I do it. Hard. With every ounce of energy. Yes, it took me a lot of restrain on pain to struggle against his strong hold and move my body around. But I did it, anyway.

"You bitch!" he curses, losing his grip on my right wrist, where a deep shade of red has been formed.

Anger crashes like waves and with every strength that I can muster, I kick his crotch.

Another agonizing howl leaves Killian's mouth. Perhaps I did catch a glimpse of red blood oozing out of his nose. Well, self-defence, if I must add.

"That's what you get, asshole," I spit at him before dashing out of the library.

He will survive with minor pain only. Unfortunately.

As I run through the hollow corridors, not knowing where my feet are taking me, emotions pour over me, and before I know, tears plummet down my eyes. Confused, anxious, furious tears. My brain's a mess and I do not know what to make sense of and what not to.

Killian once was a prince charming. He once was the lover I needed. He once was the cause of my diffident nature, which took much time to heal. He once was the cause of my broken self. And he is a jerk who not long ago tried to physically assault me. It is as if every year I am being introduced to a newer, more frightening version of Killian.

"Shh. It's alright. I am here."

Calix's voice calms me down as hysterical tears blur my vision. His soft pat on my hair, and the other soothingly rubbing my back, makes me embrace the prince who holds me close, tighter. His touch is enough to make me forget Killian's disgusting and painful grip.

When I finally calm down, I realise that I have somehow stumbled across Calix and found my way, yearning for his comfort. And he gladly accepted me. Like that night when he had comforted me, a complete stranger, out of pure human decency.

But today. Today it feels different and something more than just basic human decency.

I glance up at Calix with flushed cheeks, realising how I have shown my vulnerability once again to him. But he holds me steadily and warmly in his embrace while I take my time to calm my senses down.

My eyes dart to the tear splotches on Calix's jacket and shirt.

"I'm sorry," I fumble with words, my hands fisted on his chest still, "I spoilt your—"

"Isha." A mellow feeling tingles inside me when Calix gently takes my face in his palms, as if worried that he would break me with one touch. "It's alright. Take a deep breath." I am already broken enough.

Exhaling and inhaling, I contemplate what to say next when Calix beats me to it.

A dangerous, blazing gaze dances in his blue orbs. The look so dangerous that it practically expresses he is ready to commit a sin which involves destroying the world, if he wants.

I don't know what I expected. But I never did expect Calix to utter the next words. Needless to say, to think Calix saying the indecent, not very royal-ish part of English vocabulary, has been nothing but an imagination.

"Now tell me Isha," a raging snarl threatens to spill out of his chest, beneath the menacing calmness.

"Which fucker is the reason for your bruised wrists?"