Hidden Away

Twenty: Moving Forward

My heart ached.

My heart had ached many other times throughout my lifetime. It ached when I first suspected something wasn't right; when I first suspected the man who claimed to be my father wasn't telling me something. And from the moment I watched his body hit the ground, I knew that I could never go back to being the cheerful, innocent little girl that I was before chaos was introduced to me. When I was finally brought home and when I finally thought I could find even a sliver of happiness again, my world came crashing down again when I found out just how much my best friend was keeping from me. Now every day since then, I could feel the faint aching of my heart; and now, at this moment, the aching was intensified.

My arms wrapped around each other to try and keep the unbearable shaking to a minimum. I felt tears trickle onto my arms and slide down, dripping to the floor from underneath. I could feel the intense stares I was receiving from people as I passed them on the way to mine and Rowan's room.

I didn't understand why I was crying so much. You don't even love him, I tried telling myself. The thing was, I didn't know whether what I was telling myself was the truth or not. I didn't think I did, but I never understood most of what I was feeling. I didn't have that sense of knowing how I felt about myself yet.

It was late and the night would soon come to a close. I made it back to the room, surprisingly managing to not get lost. I walked in and the first thing I saw was Rowan packing his things. He leaned over his bed, both his hands lost in his bag. Next to the bag were neat piles of his belongings, which he one by one placed in his bag. He didn't realize I had walked into the room until I shut the door.

"You're back. I was looking for you." He didn't turn to face me as he continued to pack. I took it as the perfect opportunity to wipe my face and get rid of the tears before he saw me.

"Yeah, uh," I paused to make sure my cheeks and eyes were as dry as possible. He noticed and turned to face me. My hands quickly dropped from my face and landed at my sides. The smile that I forced onto my face was probably the biggest lie I had ever told without saying a single word. "I was speaking with the King."

"Your mate." He corrected, turning back to his task. He put another pile of his belongings into the bag and rearranged what he already had in there. "He's your mate." It took everything in me to keep myself from telling him that I wanted nothing to do with being his mate because I'm scared. I'm terrified; and the last thing I want to do is admit it. I've spent my whole life being the brave one and keeping things to myself. I definitely don't want to start being so weak now.

"Yeah."

I took a cautious step deeper into the room and almost jumped when Rowan turned on his heals out of nowhere. "I thought you were comfortable enough with me where I wouldn't have to push you to tell me what's wrong." My shoulders slumped as I continued to walk over to my bed where my small suitcase was. Rowan was noticeably upset and I didn't want to argue with anyone else.

"Rowan, not righ—"

"I'm trying so hard to make you feel like you belong and that you're part of our family." He stopped what he was doing to look at me, but I kept going. I unzipped the suitcase and started packing things into it aggressively. I looked around for things that belonged to me and without even making sure to put them in neatly, I shoved them in. He kept going at it and I forced my lips shut; I forced myself to stay silent because I knew If I didn't, I would explode with all the feelings I've been keeping cooped up inside. "I spend so much effort and so much time trying to make sure you feel wanted and comfortable and I feel like I'm failing at it."

"Can we talk about this another time? I'm tired right now and it's late," I grounded out. I finished putting things in the suitcase and looked around one last time to make sure I wasn't missing anything. I didn't see anything else, so I zipped the suitcase and dragged it off the bed and onto the floor. I groaned as I spotted a shirt that was trapped under the suitcase when it was on the bed. I yanked it off the bed with force and yanked the zipper of the suitcase so hard, the small piece of fabric that helped to easily glide the zipper to one side broke off. "Ugh! I hate this!" The amount of frustration I let out when I slammed the shirt on top of the suitcase wasn't nearly enough.