Chapter 134 The weight of waiting

Chapter 134 The weight of waiting
“Don't lie to me. Your health isn't a game," Lucius warned. Then, he seemed to look at something off-screen, his posture suddenly stiffening.

“How are your parents, by the way?" Anastasia asked, trying to steer away from the medical talk.

“They're fine, they're…”

Before Lucius could finish his sentence, a deep, rumbling voice echoed from somewhere in the background of his room.

Gideon.

“You're so ready, beloved," Gideon's voice boomed, rich and dripping with a dark sexy tone.

Anastasia furrowed her brows in utter confusion. “Beloved," she teased, squinting at the screen, trying to look past him. “Luce, what are you doing?"

Lucius's face turned bright red. In his panic to silence Gideon, he accidentally tilted his phone downward, angling the camera straight toward his own lap.

Anastasia's jaw dropped in awe. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. The camera revealed Lucius dressed in an elaborate cosplay outfit. A thick leather collar was fastened around his neck, and several more straps were tightly cinched and strapped around his lap and thighs.

Anastasia sat frozen, utterly dumbfounded by the image on her screen. Her voice dropped into a shocked, horrified whisper. “Oh… bitch, are you cosplaying? I should have known you're such a bitch, Luce.”

Lucius quickly scrambled to pull the phone back up, his face burning a furious shade of crimson. “Asia, wait, it's not what it looks like…”

Before Lucius could defend himself, Gideon's hand reached him, snatching the phone out of Lucius's grip. The camera tilted, and Gideon's voice dropped into a deep bass voice that vibrated right through the phone speaker.

“On your knees, cutie Wolffy."

Anastasia's eyes widened, almost bulging out of their sockets. She slammed her finger on the red button, dropping the call instantly. She threw the phone away from her, letting it bounce wildly against the mattress.

“Oh my God!" She screamed into the empty bedroom, throwing her head back. She threw herself face-first into the mattress, kicking her legs wildly beneath the covers. Her face burned as she buried it in a pillow.

“I never expected that from him!”

She let out another muffled scream, completely losing her mind over what she had just witnessed.

“This boy is so bitchy!”

\~~~

Two weeks have passed, and Anastasia only gets weaker. If anything, she was getting worse, but she continued to take her medications exactly like before, going through it as if nothing were wrong, as if she was actually getting better. But she wasn't. She was dying, and she knew it deep down in her bones.

She spent her days exactly like every other. In the mornings, she waited for Morgana and Zevrak to bring her daily herbs, followed by breakfast. In the evenings, she attended dinner, which Morgana and Zevrak made sure to attend with her. They tried their best to lift her spirits, to keep things light and fun, but Anastasia couldn't pretend anymore. The truth was eating her alive.

William hadn't even said goodbye. He hadn't given her a single clue as to when he was going to come back. Even though she knew he eventually would return, it still cut deep. It made her feel like everything he had given her – all he had tolerated because of her – had been absolutely nothing from the very beginning. To make matters worse, her friend was gone too. Mason, whom she still managed to talk to sometimes, was back to his partner's side. Selvara had also gotten busy at Umbra-Hollow, but she still made time to keep her company. Even though Selvara couldn't have meals with her, she tried her best to keep her company whenever she was around. Still, the castle felt far too large, its empty halls only deepening the hollow ache in her chest.

Lucius called her here and there, checking in on her more than ever before just to keep her company and keep her mind off the isolation. Now, the only thing anchoring her was preparing for her upcoming exams. She buried herself in her books, keeping her brain busy, though she still felt the emptiness pressing heavily on her anywhere and everywhere.

Until one night. After three weeks.

She sat with Morgana, Zevrak, and Selvara in the castle main lounge, sitting there just like always, when a guard rushed in and announced to them. “Lord Liam is back!"

Instantly, the entire castle went into a chaotic rush. Servants scrambled, and the environment went into a muffled, chaotic blur around her. Anastasia's stomach violently twisted. Confused and overwhelmed, she didn't even know what to feel. Her body went entirely numb. Then the sound echoed through the hall – his heavy boot steps clicking sharply against the marble floor. And right alongside them, another set of lighter footsteps.

Morgana, Zevrak, and Selvara stood up immediately, bowing their heads in deep respect.

Anastasia just stood there, frozen.

“Anastasia." He muttered.

She heard him. She heard him call her name. It was the voice she had been longing to hear for three whole weeks. It had been three agonizing weeks. Now that she was finally hearing it again, a wave of raw emotion hit her so hard she wanted to cry. But she fiercely blinked the tears back. She would not let him see her break like that.

She forced herself to look up.

Any desire to run to him vanished instantly. Princess Aeliana was standing right by his side, a mocking smirk playing on her lips as she clung to his arm.

Anastasia slowly rose to her feet. For the first time since she had arrived at the castle, she lowered her upper body and bowed to him, a formal, distant gesture she had never used with him before. Before he could even make a move toward her or say another word, she turned on her heel and aimed straight for the elevator.

William stood perfectly still, watching her walk away.

Even in the midst of her mixed emotions, a fragile, desperate hope flared in her chest. She hoped he would come after her. She hoped he would hold her, pull her back, and say something – anything to explain, anything to make the ache stop.

She stepped inside the elevator and turned around to face the hall. Her body went cold to the core.

Nothing. He hadn't moved an inch.

His complete lack of effort only deepened the cold ache settling in her chest. His unreadable face pinned her down, staring at her from across the distance, making no attempt to stop her. His feet remained firmly planted next to the princess.

The elevator chimed and the mechanical metal doors slid closed in front of her face. Like that, all her hope was instantly lost. The world felt totally muffled around her. A brutal wave of dizziness crashed over her, her head spinning so violently she could barely stand. Unable to support her own weight, she slid down slowly against the metal wall of the elevator, collapsing onto the floor as the elevator pulled her upward.

The moment she was alone, the tears came. They hit hard and hot against her pale cheeks. A solid, suffocating lump formed in her throat, so thick and heavy she couldn't seem to swallow. She choked on her own tears, her chest heaving as she sobbed silently in the moving elevator.

It hurt. It hurt as badly as the sickness rotting her from the inside out. Anastasia had never thought there would be a day where she would feel so thoroughly broken, so utterly worthless.

As she sat curled on the elevator floor, her mind drifted back to a television program she had watched a long time ago, and someone had asked: “What does your first heartbeat feel like?"

‘If this is it,’ she thought bitterly, pressing her trembling hand in her aching chest as the tears soaked her skin. ‘Then they lied. There were no words for this.’ The pain was just too much to put into words. ‘Horrible’ did not even begin to cut it.

That night, after crying until her chest was entirely hollow and her heart was spent, she forced her aching limbs off the elevator floor. She went straight to her room, stripped off her clothes, and stood under the shower, letting the warm water wash away her tears. She felt weak, and her fragile body desperately needed sleep. Real, undisturbed sleep, the kind that evaded her for weeks.
Not long after her eyes finally closed and exhaustion claimed her, the bedroom door quietly clicked open. William stepped into the room. He took off his suit jacket and slipped into the bed, pulling her fragile body against his chest. He stayed there, holding her through the quiet hours of the night, her cape jasmine scent wrapped around him. They stayed like that until dawn broke through the curtains.

When Anastasia woke up at the first light of morning, she instantly felt the solid, radiating cold of his body behind her. Her heart gave a painful, familiar throb, but the memory of the Fae princess flashing a smirk at her side slammed back into her mind.

She stiffened, immediately pretending to still be asleep. She kept her breathing shallow and steady, staring blankly at the wall.

But William already knew. He could easily sense the shift in her heart rate and the sudden tension in her muscles.

“Anastasia," he murmured, his voice low and raspy.

She gave no response, her back remaining firmly facing him like she couldn't hear a word.

“Asia, look at me," he tried again, breathing brushing against the nape of her neck.

Still, she gave absolutely no response. She remained still, refusing to acknowledge him. Sensing the icy barrier she had erected between them, William didn't force it. He let out a quiet sigh, giving her the space she was silently demanding, though he didn't leave the bed.

As the morning progressed, a soft knock signaled the arrival of Morgana and Zevrak, carrying the tray of freshly brewed herbs and her routine medications. William didn't leave, instead, he moved to the couch across from his bed, sitting quietly with his arms crossed, his dark eyes intensely watching her every move.

Anastasia sat up, her face pale and expressionless as she swallowed the pills and drank down the bitter herbs. The silence in the room was thick, suffocating, and heavy with unspoken words.

Once she set the empty cup back down on the tray, William rose from the couch. He stepped up to the edge of the mattress, reaching his hand out, wanting nothing more than to finally hold her, to pull her into his arms and erase the distance of the past three weeks.

But before his fingers could even brush her skin, Anastasia jerked her hand away, pulling herself back toward the headboard and turning away from him.

Morgana and Zevrak both saw the blatant rejection. A heavy, awkward tension filled the air, but out of respect and fear of interfering, they said nothing. They simply offered a deep bow and quietly exited the room, closing the heavy doors behind them.

The moment they were alone again, Anastasia without hesitation turned to lie on the bed, turning her back on him.

“Anastasia, talk to me," William called out, his voice tight with rare frustration and desperation.

He reached out again, his large hand hovering over her shoulder, desperately wanting to touch her, to feel her warmth. But seeing how rigidly she was holding herself, he hesitated, catching his hand midway in the air and slowly letting it drop back to his side.

The silence stretched for a long, agonizing minute until Anastasia finally broke it.

“Your presence is distracting," she said, her voice dropping into a whisper that carried no warmth, no anger, just pure exhaustion. She pulled the covers higher around herself. “I need to get some rest, please."