He Would, He Wouldn't?

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"Where's the fire, Celeste?" I voice my curiosity out loud as my gaze barely manages to keep up with the hustle bustle of the palace staff while they run from one end of the hallway to the other.

"Don't you know, Your Grace?" Celeste says, her knowing tone informing me that the chaos that is ensuing all around is nothing out of the ordinary for her. "His Highness has called upon some acquaintances, and dear friends to stay a while at the palace." Of course, my lady-in-waiting would know more about Manik's affairs than I, his wife, would.

"Oh," is all I manage to murmur. Why in the world has Manik summoned guests to the palace at a time when he's supposedly burdened under a mountain of work so high that he fails to realise that his wife is no longer by his side?

"There they come, Your Highness." Celeste says, nodding her chin towards the grounds down below that lie beyond the terrace we're strolling along. Coming to a stop in front of the balustrade, I narrow my eyes at the oncoming riders. As they bring their horses to a halt - stirring up the dust on the ground - I recognise two familiar faces; Alexis, and Sebastian.

"What's he doing here?" I whisper, staring at Sebastian. The mere sight of him sets off a peal of warning bells in my head. Accompanying them is a group of four other men, none of whom I'm able to recognise, or place. I doubt Manik is hosting a party for his friends, and so if he's called these men for official matters, then I cannot in a million years imagine what Sebastian is doing amongst the group. My instincts are screaming at me that he is not good news.

Before I can mull over the situation much longer, however, Manik materialises at the entrance of the palace to greet his guests, forcing me to step away from the balustrade and remove myself from their sight. Alas, my hasty actions catch one of the men's eye, and he jerks his head up towards me, to catch a fleeting glance of my retreating form; Sebastian.

*****

That very same day, while I'm perusing the contents of a scroll, the corner of my eye catches a hint of activity in the garden that's below the window I'm facing. Looking up from the words in front of me, I find Manik chasing a giggling Shivam; the latter's laughs penetrating through the window and reaching me, albeit in a muffled manner.

Unable to tear my gaze away from the both of them, I watch Manik crouch ever so slightly, his arms reaching out for Shivam's stumbling back. In one swift motion, Manik has hoisted the child into his arms, holding him horizontal in the air as he continues to run in a circle around the garden. Placing my elbow on the desk, I rest my chin on my palm, unable to suppress a small smile from lifting the corners of my lips.

However, along with the brief moment of amusement, the sight in front of me settles a cloud of despair over me as well. Manik will never share such a bond with the child in my womb. Nor does he care enough to wish to try. The thought is upsetting, especially because I know how soft and good Manik is with children. I used to think it's because they appeal to the inner child in him, and draw out his innocence. Alas, I was wrong once again. There's not an ounce of goodness in Manik. 

Lowering himself onto the grass, Manik holds Shivam over himself, gently tossing the child into the air. This is Shivam's favourite game and the gurgling laughter that is bursting from his lips is proof enough of this. Unexpectedly, however, as Manik continues to hoist Shivam into the air, his eyes travel straight to the window I'm seated opposite, landing on me. At once, I lift my chin and straighten up, my gaze locked on Manik as well.

For some reason, I refuse to look away from him, and he has apparently decided to mirror my actions. Pursing my lips, I stare into the eyes of the man who I cannot read anymore. If I were to judge, I'd say that his gaze is once again distant as it watches me, like I don't matter. Clearing my throat, I scrape my chair along the floor and stand up. Tearing my gaze away from Manik's, I swivel on my heels and march away from the window.

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