"I cared about you, Cyrus. I thought I knew you."
"I didn't want to lose you," Cyrus said, his voice breaking with the truth of it. "I couldn't lose you, not after—"
"You already lost me," she whispered, her voice filled with a quiet, devastating finality. "The moment you lied to me, you lost me."
Cyrus's breath hitched, his hands trembling at his sides as he took another step toward her. "Nila, please. You don't understand. I was trying to protect you."
"Protect me?" She shook her head, her tears finally spilling over. "You were protecting yourself. You didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth. You didn't trust me at all."
Her words shattered something inside him, the weight of her accusations bearing down on him until he could barely breathe. He had thought he was protecting her, but in the end, it had all been for nothing. He had only pushed her further away.
"I love you," he whispered, his voice trembling, his heart breaking. "I've always loved you."
Nila's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. For a moment, she was silent, her expression softening just the slightest bit as his words hit her. But then, just as quickly, the hardness returned.
"Love?" she echoed bitterly. "You don't lie to the people you love. You don't betray them like this."
Her words struck him like a blow, leaving him breathless. He wanted to reach out to her, to hold her, to make her understand, but he knew—he could see it in her eyes—that she wouldn't let him.
"I can't forgive you," she said softly, her voice breaking. "Not for this."
Cyrus felt his world collapse around him. He had always feared this moment, always known it was a possibility, but now that it was here, it was more painful than he could have ever imagined.
"Nila," he whispered, but she was already turning away, her tears falling freely now as she backed away from him, her eyes filled with a sadness so deep it threatened to consume them both.
"Don't follow me," she said, her voice shaking as she stepped away. "Just… don't."
And with that, she was gone, leaving Cyrus standing there, alone, in the cold silence of the palace, his heart shattered beyond repair.
But he couldn't just afford to stand there so he ran behind her chasing her like a madman, the maids in the palace were confused wondering what happened, turning to one of the maids he said, ''I want all of you to go into your rooms right now! Don't let me see anyone out of their rooms!''
The maid flinched at their king's order as they ushered each other to get into each of their rooms.
Nila ran into the library, the only place she was familiar with in the palace as Cyrus chased her.
The library was dark, as the night set in, but Nila couldn't care less as tears gushed down her face, none of the men she loved treated her right.
From her father to Sol, none of them loved her-
Nila stopped in her tracks as the reality hit her, she loved him.
Cyrus's vision sharpened as the darkness of the palace deepened, a natural advantage of his kind. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and leather, but cutting through it was something unmistakable, Nila. He could smell her tears, the salt of her sorrow clinging to the air. His wolf's instincts urged him forward, faster, as if sensing that each moment she stayed away from him was another moment of her slipping further from his grasp.
Cyrus slowed as he reached the entrance to the library. The grand doors loomed before him, their dark wood imposing in the dim light of the night. His hand hovered over the handle for a brief moment, hesitation flickering in his chest. He had hurt her deeply, more than he ever intended, more than he could bear.
But he had to face her.
He pushed the door open, the creak of the hinges cutting through the silence. The library was shrouded in darkness, the moonlight filtering in through the high windows casting long shadows across the floor. He stepped inside, his eyes adjusting quickly, scanning the room.
And then he saw her.
Nila stood in the far corner, her back to him, her hands gripping the edge of one of the long tables. Her shoulders were trembling, her head bowed as though the weight of the world had crashed down on her all at once. Even from this distance, he could see the glisten of her tears streaking her face. It tore at him, the sight of her so broken, and knowing that he was the one who had done this to her.
"Nila," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.
She didn't turn. She didn't move. For a moment, he thought she might not even acknowledge him, that she might stay rooted in her anger and pain, refusing to let him in. But then she spoke, her voice low, raw, and edged with a sorrow that cut through him like a blade.
"Why, Cyrus? Why did you lie to me?" Her words were soft, but they held the weight of her heartbreak, the questions she hadn't yet been able to voice fully.
Cyrus took another step forward, his voice breaking just a little as he said, "Please, stop calling me Cyrus."
Nila's body went still, the air between them growing taut. Slowly, she turned, her tear-streaked face filled with a mix of heartbreak and confusion. "What?" she whispered, barely audible, her voice so fragile it sounded as though it could shatter.
He swallowed hard, his throat tightening with emotion. "Cyrus is the king. Cyrus is… the monster, the title, the person you ran from." His hands were trembling as he reached out, but he didn't dare touch her, not yet. "But I'm not just that. I'm Sol. I'm the man who laughed with you, the one who held you when you were scared, the one who—"
"The one who lied to me," Nila snapped, her voice cracking as she cut him off. "The one who let me believe everything was real when it was all just a game to you."
"No, Nila, please," Cyrus interrupted, his voice pleading. "I didn't lie to you about who I am deep down. I may be Cyrus Sol Selene, the king of Selene, but to you... I was always just Sol. The man who fell in love with you."
Her chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths, the fire of betrayal still blazing in her eyes, but there was something else there too.
"I need you to see me again," he continued, his words coming out in a desperate rush. "Not as the king, not as Cyrus. Please, Nila, call me Sol. I need you to call me Sol because that's who I am to you. Cyrus is the ruler of Selene, the one bound by duty, by history, by everything that's broken between us."
His voice broke as he stepped forward, finally closing the distance between them. "But Sol… Sol is yours. He always was. From the moment I met you, Nila, Sol was yours."
Her breath hitched, her lips trembling as his words sunk in. He could see the battle playing out in her eyes, the push and pull between the anger she clung to and the trust she had for the man she had believed Sol to be.
For a long moment, she said nothing, her silence pressing down on him like a heavyweight. His heart hammered in his chest, each second feeling like an eternity. He was baring his soul to her, laying everything at her feet, and the fear of losing her for good gnawed at him like a beast inside.
Finally, Nila spoke, her voice quiet and broken. "You can't just ask me to forget, Cyrus."
Cyrus flinched at the sound of his name on her lips, the name that felt like a wedge driving them apart. He couldn't stand it, the distance it created between them, the way it felt like she was keeping him at arm's length, refusing to let him back in.
"Don't call me that," he begged, his voice raw, almost frantic. "Please, Nila, don't call me Cyrus. Not you. To you, I'm Sol. I'll always be Sol."
She looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and disbelief. "Sol was the man I trusted, you are Cyrus, it's different, at least to me," she said bitterly.
Cyrus shook his head, his hands lifting as if to reach for her, but he stopped himself again. "No. It's still me, Nila. I'm still the man who held you in my arms that night by the lake. The one who listened to your dreams, your fears, your stories. That was all real. None of that was a lie."
Her tears were falling freely now, and she wiped at them furiously, her anger mixing with her sadness. "How am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to separate the king from the man when you've kept so much from me?"
He felt his heart breaking again, splintering with every word she spoke, but he forced himself to stay steady, to be strong for her, or both of them. "Because I'm standing here, Nila. I'm standing here, begging you to see me again. Not as Cyrus. Not as the king. But as Sol. The man who's loved you every single day, whether you knew it or not."
Do you think Nila will be able to forgive him?
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Nila shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away, her lips pressing into a thin line. For a long moment, the silence between them was heavy, suffocating. Then, slowly, she spoke, her voice quiet but resolute.
"I'll give you one month," she said, her eyes locking onto his with a fierceness that left no room for doubt. "One month to prove to me that I can trust you again. If you can't… you'll set me free. You'll not return me to my father's hands. You'll let me go."
Cyrus's breath caught in his throat as her words sank in. One month. It wasn't much time, but it was more than he had hoped for. More than he deserved. But then she continued, her voice softening, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her tone.
"And if you can," she whispered, "if you can make me believe in you again… then you can have me. Forever. Until death do us part."
Her words sent a shockwave through him, his heart pounding with a mixture of hope and fear. He stared at her, his chest tightening as he took in the weight of her offer. This was it—his chance to make things right.
"Nila…" he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "I will prove it to you. I swear, I will."
She didn't respond, didn't acknowledge the depth of his promise. Instead, she turned her back to him once again, her arms wrapping around herself as though trying to hold herself together. But this time, she didn't flee. This time, she stayed.
And for Cyrus, that was enough for now.
''You need to rest, let me take you to your room,'' Cyrus spoke his eyes softening, she turned to look at him.
That's when Nila noticed how this man wasn't completely dressed, he was sweating. Could running such a small distance work up so much sweat? she wondered as she watched sweat glide down his abs.
Cyrus noticed Nila's stare, and his face flushed a little. "Nila?" he called her softly again.
Nila blinked as her eyes flicked back to his face, quickly looking away, cheeks warming at the realization of what she had been staring at. She stiffened, forcing herself to remember the bitterness that had settled in her chest, the anger that still simmered beneath the surface.
Cyrus took a slow step closer, not wanting to overwhelm her, but desperate to close the emotional gap between them. "You need rest, Nila. Please, let me take you to your room," he repeated.
Nila hesitated, her lips pressed into a thin line. The idea of being alone with him again, in the stillness of the palace halls, made her stomach twist with emotions she wasn't ready to face. Yet, as much as she wanted to remain angry, her body was weary from the weight of her heartache. She needed a moment to breathe, to think.
She finally nodded, though it was stiff and reluctant. "Fine," she muttered, keeping her voice steady. "But don't think this means I've forgiven you."
"I wouldn't expect it so soon," he said softly, relief evident in his voice as he gently guided her toward the corridor that led to her chambers.
The palace was quiet now, all the staff hiding away in their rooms per Cyrus's earlier order. It made the air feel still, heavy with the tension between them, but also with a strange kind of peace. The soft clinking of their footsteps echoed against the marble floors, and for a moment, the only sound in the world was the two of them walking side by side.
Nila kept her arms folded across her chest, her gaze averted. She didn't want to look at him, not when she felt so vulnerable, so raw. She hated that her heart fluttered in his presence, that even now, after everything, her body betrayed her, yearning for the comfort only he could give.
When they reached her door, Cyrus stopped, his hand hovering just above the handle. He turned to her, his expression tentative. "I'll wait outside while you rest," he offered. "If you need anything, I'll be here."
Nila stared at him for a moment, her lips parting slightly as if to say something. But instead, she just nodded, stepping into her room without a word. She closed the door softly behind her and leaned against it, her heart pounding as she tried to gather her thoughts. Everything felt too much, too fast.
She wanted to be angry, to hate him, but there was a small, persistent ache in her chest that longed for the man she had fallen in love with, the man who, for all his faults, was still standing outside that door, willing to do anything to make things right.
The next morning, Nila woke with the light of the dawn peeking through her curtains. She blinked, disoriented for a moment before the memories of the previous night came rushing back. Her heart tightened, and she groaned, burying her face in her hands. She couldn't keep living in this limbo, between loving and hating him. But she didn't know how to push him away when part of her didn't want to.
She had removed the tight clothing that pressed too hard on her chest and finally settled into a nightgown last night. She didn't need anything more to add to the tightness she was emotionally already experiencing.
There was a soft knock on her door, and she stiffened, wondering who it could be. She sat up, straightening her gown and taking a deep breath before she called out, "Come in."
The door creaked open, and there he stood, looking slightly more composed than the night before. He was dressed now, though his hair still held that familiar tousled look that made him seem more like Sol, the man she used to know.
"Good morning," he said quietly, holding a tray in his hands. Nila raised an eyebrow at the sight. "I thought you might like breakfast," he added, stepping inside and placing the tray on a small table near the window. It was simple, fruit, fresh bread, and a steaming cup of tea but there was something intimate about the gesture that made her heartache.
Breakfast in Selene was different from Navaria she thought to herself, the Navraian cuisine had more flavour and spice to it.
"You… you brought me breakfast?" she asked, unable to hide her surprise.
Cyrus shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I wanted to start the day off right. I know it's not much, but…" He trailed off, his eyes searching hers for any sign of forgiveness. But Nila remained silent, unsure how to respond. Her heart was conflicted, part of her wanted to accept the kindness, while the other part wanted to hold on to her anger.
But she couldn't resist food, could she?
He glanced at her again before sitting down across from her, leaving space between them. He didn't push, didn't try to force a conversation. Instead, he waited, allowing her to eat in silence.
Nila bit into a piece of bread, and despite herself, she smiled slightly at the taste. She hadn't realized how hungry she was, how the stress of everything had made her forget even the basics like eating. She kept her eyes on the plate, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her smile.
As she nibbled at the fruit, Cyrus cleared his throat softly. "I know I have a long way to go," he began, his voice careful. "But I want to start with something small. I want to take you outside today. There's a garden not far from here. It's… well, it's quiet. I thought maybe you'd like to go for a walk."
Nila set the piece of fruit down, her hands trembling slightly. She didn't look at him but stared out the window. A walk? In the garden? Part of her was tempted.
This was all part of his plan, wasn't it? To win her back with sweet gestures and thoughtful moments. And yet, it was working, wasn't it? Her heart was already starting to soften, even if she didn't want to admit it.
After a long silence, she finally spoke. "You think a walk in the garden will make me forget everything?" she asked, her voice sharp.
Cyrus shook his head quickly, looking flustered. "No, Nila, of course not. I don't expect you to forget anything. I just thought… you might like some air."
Nila's gaze flicked to him, and for the first time that morning, she met his eyes. She could see the genuine sincerity in them, the hope mixed with fear. He was trying. He was trying so hard. And as much as she wanted to hold on to her anger, she couldn't deny that he was doing what he could to make things right.
"Fine," she muttered, standing up abruptly. "But don't think this means I'm forgiving you."
Cyrus stood as well, a cautious smile tugging at his lips. "Of course. I wouldn't dream of assuming that."