Royally Rebellious

Chapter 7

~Maxon's POV~

I wake up from a restless slumber and find myself  gripping one of my pillow's tightly with both hands. Kriss didn't sleep with me tonight, since she was supposedly still mad at me. I wasn't complaining. She had forgiven me though at dinner.

"Maxon, I guess I can find it in my heart to forgive you for being extremely rude and inconsiderate, but I would like to spend tonight alone to grieve." Kriss had said softly. At that point, I couldn't have yelled at her. It wasn't until then that it actually hit me that Kriss lost a child too. It wasn't just me hurting, she was also. So, I let her have her space. But I did get a little drunk that night.

The alcohol numbed the pain, and it has been for the past few years after the selection. After a while, I just started to rely on the countless liquor in the kitchen to get me through hard nights. Most staff in the castle know I have a drinking problem, but they wouldn't dare tell another soul.

After consuming all that alcohol, I now have a massive headache, and I regret chugging down four bottles of beer.

I get up to a bowl of pain killers and a glass of water on my desk. I softly smile to myself. Maid's tuition.

I quickly get ready for the work day, making myself look presentable, even though I feel like absolute crap on the inside.

As I'm heading to my office, I accidentally bump into someone, knocking them down. I look down to see who I knocked down, and it's Kriss. I help her up, and it immediately gets awkward.

"Uhh..." I try to say something, but I trail off. Kriss looks down, and sighs. She looks back up, and she has a serious look on her face.

"Maxon, I know right now, you're really disappointed and sad about how everything's turning out, but what you don't realise, is that I'm hurting too." She stands a little taller.

"I'm done trying to please you and make you happy. This whole "baby" thing was the last straw." She spats. I look at her confused, but I'm afraid that I have an idea of what she's talking about.

"What do you mean?" I ask. She scoffs and rolls her eyes.

"I don't care about what went down in the past, what things use to be like. You can have all the regrets and what if? thoughts in the world, it doesn't change the fact that I. AM. YOUR. WIFE." She basically screams. The whole hall gets quiet. I hate that everyone is listening in on her grilling me. And her constant yelling is making my head throb even more.

"You chose me, or did you forget? You can't go back and compare me to your ultimate dream girl, America." She snarls. I huff. This whole thing again? I'm starting to worry about Kriss's mental state.

This is the 100th time since we've been married that she's brought up America, and how I compare them both. In all honesty, I do, but I don't try to make it obvious. I guess it was more noticeable than I thought.

"I already know that you're probably thinking, oh, America would've have children by now. Well wake up! I'm not her! You are with ME. You are MY husband and it is your job to love me! I'm tired of this BULL!"

"Kriss! Language-"

"SCREW LANGUAGE! I've had enough of your neglectance towards me. Either you step up, or I'll MAKE you step up." And with that, she starts walking fiercely to the woman's room.

I try to straighten my suit and act natural, but the air is still very tense. As I swerve around a corner, I can her the guards and maids already starting to gossip about what just went down. At this point, I'm too tired and ashamed to chatise anyone.

When i finally get to my office, and settle down so I can get to work, I am in no shape to do anything. I run my hands in my hair and groan. Why is everything so complicated nowadays?

I hesitantly open up my locked drawer that unlocks with a key. I pull it open, and take out photos. I smile when I look at them. Still beautiful as ever.

When Kriss told me to take down the pictures of America, I didn't throw them away, even though that's the story I told her. I put them all in this drawer. I've collected new pictures from magazines that Kriss throws away, and I cut her face out, and put them in my ever-growing pile. It's not really a shrine, more like a hoard. Well? Okay, it's a shrine.

But it keeps me calm, at times when I'm feeling I'm going insane. If only she was here in the flesh.

But little did Maxon know that it would be coming true, just not in the way he imagined.