May I, My Love? ✔

12. t h e s e c o n d s h o c k

When I woke up the next day,  my spirits were incredibly down. Even if the flowers were in full bloom, even if the scent of the roses and lilies invaded my nose and threatened to lighten my mood, the remnants of yesterday's ball were enough to make me want to sink deeper in my queen sized bed and never wake up again.

I turned around to grab my phone off the bedside table and checked the time – it said six am. That was too early o wake up on a holiday – even for me. But now that I was awake, I was sure that my regrets and dark thoughts wouldn't leave my mind until I gave it what it wanted the most. Turning around once again to the other side, I confirmed that Lisa was still in a sound sleep beside me, and I quietly slipped out of bed.

Immediately, the cold air of the morning enveloped me making my chatter my teeth and almost let out a sound, but I contained myself. Running to my closet, I opened it slowly and picked out a warmer pair of pajamas along with a warm woolen sweater. I let my hair open because hair down your neck keeps the skin warm in winters. I really needed this right now – getting away to somewhere completely quiet, where no one can see what I am going through.

Since I've been told that I was mightily expressive since I was young, its sometimes hard to hide your sorrows from the outside world. That place is my hideout, where I can be alone and away from the world and its judgemental eyes. Since time immemorial, people in the society only sit to judge you – no matter how hard you try. Countless of humans have been witnesses of the cruel and barbaric treatment of this society, and until now, a lot of people are unable to gather courage to do something that resonates with them, that complements the motto of their life. And people like me were one of those victims, whose every action was recorded in someone's eyes, and was torn apart mercilessly only to suit their best interests all the while being completely ignorant and oblivious about the person they have ruined.

But by now, I have learned to cope with it. To grin and bear it. There is no other way out of this. It is a favourite pastime of people and that's what happens to most of us, so it shouldn't really bother me, right? The truth is that it does. Bit I do not have the strength to fight it. Maybe because all of the things people tell me are actually the reality of my life. I am born in a noble family which doesn't rank too high to actually get respect from anyone, but I also cannot be free to do as I please since I'm still a royal, and I cannot act out of character.

I reach the second garden behind the second smaller palace. This one was different from the main garden and the garden situated in between the two wings of the palace. This one was comparatively smaller in size, but it was perfect for me. Lush green grass that held a few plants of almost every flower grown here and just a medium sized cottage in which the gardener lived all by herself.

Isla, the royal gardener, was a sweet woman who always fed me her delicious hand made food and gave me my privacy as well as company whenever I needed it. Growing up, I had never had the chance to feel the love of a grandmother, so Grandma Isla was a fresh breath of air.

She had grey hair and warm brown eyes that were always twinkling with joy. She used to tell me stories of her youth, and how rebellious she was in her teens back in her hometown. She had no regrets in life, and even after losing her only son to alcoholism, she lived her life as if she was the happiest person on earth. And so, on my sixteenth birthday, I asked for a piano from my father and requested him to place it in her cottage. I would go to visit her everyday, play the piano and sing songs for her, and drink delicious tea with her equally scrumptious cookies and cupcakes. And that time, no matter how long it was, was the best time of the day for me.

Already knowing that she won't be in the cottage but out watering the plants, I entered the homey cottage and straightway headed to the huge living room where the piano was kept. There were windows facing the piano so that I could gaze at the outside world while playing and I enjoyed that greatly. In the midst of playing new melodies and admiring the nature of the earth, I would often become oblivious of the time that has passed. There was no better refreshment than this for me. This was even greater than heaven.

I admired the golden plating on the white piano, as I sat down on the stool beside it. Like a routine that has been continuing for a long time, my fingers found the keys by themselves and started to play the saddest melody I knew – which weren't a lot. I always made sure to play delightful tunes but today, it seems like in the absence of Grandma, my hands have a mind of their own.

Suddenly I was interrupted by a very familiar voice. My eyes opened as I tried to distinguish the voice's owner with my mind still in half sleep. I was sure I had heard it somewhere before.

"You're playing it wrong love. I'm sure you can play it a bit better than now."

My eyes became the size of saucers as I finally registered the voice in my mind.

'I'm so dead today.'