The Tyrant's Baby

Chapter 2: The Heartbreak

When Selene was finally released from work, she quickly rushed out of the building while her heart raced with the desire to binge-read her books. She longed to escape into the familiar comfort of her favorite stories, where reality faded and adventure beckoned. But as she walked past the various establishments lining the street, her gaze fell upon the local bookstore.

She bit her lip thinking, torn between her love for reading and her dwindling allowance.

Just one book wouldn't hurt, right? She hesitated, mentally calculating how much she could spare. Before she could make her final decision, her feet had already started walking toward the entrance of the bookstore, as if possessed by a force greater than her resolve.

As soon as she stepped inside, the atmosphere wrapped around her like a warm hug. The scent of aged paper and fresh ink filled the air, and her demeanor shifted almost instantly. Here, she was no longer the quiet coffee girl. Among the shelves of countless stories, she transformed into a confident book lover, ready to explore every corner of this literary sanctuary.

Selene began to scan the towering bookshelves as her eyes sparkled with excitement. She adjusted her glasses, focusing intently on the spines that lined the shelves that intrigued her. It didn't matter if the books were underrated or bestselling; they were all hers to discover.

"Maybe just a quick look," she whispered to herself, feeling the thrill of possibility. She started browsing through the fantasy section, her fingers brushing against the spines as she moved down the row.

"Selene!" a voice suddenly called from behind her, pulling her out of her reverie. She turned to see Clara, a friendly face from the bookstore staff. Clara had always been supportive of Selene's passion for reading, often recommending new titles. "You're here again! Found anything good?"

"Just browsing," Selene replied, trying to suppress a grin. "You know me, can't resist a good book."

"Haha, that's so you. By the way, come with me." Clara invited, leading her toward the cashier counter. "I believe this is your book."

Clara pulled out a familiar cover, and Selene's heart sank as she recognized it instantly—The Tyrant's Child.

"Wait, how did it get here? I didn't bring that book with me," she exclaimed, baffled. She had left the book tightly shut in her room with a bookmark slipped a few pages from the end.

Selene chuckled at the impossibility. "I think you're mistaken."

But Clara shrugged, her expression teasing. "But your name's in it. Even I don't remember you buying this premium edition. The cover is exquisite and shiny." She held the book up, and the light caught the gilded edges, making it glimmer enticingly.

Selene's eyes widened as she reached for the book, her fingers grazing over the luxurious cover. "I... I didn't buy this," she stammered, still trying to comprehend how it had ended up here. "I was just thinking about it earlier, but I didn't purchase this premium one!"

"Is that so? Well then, take it anyway. Maybe it's a gift," Clara said with a teasing smile. "I couldn't possibly sell it again since your name's engraved on the cover."

Selene's eyes widened in shock. "Engraved??? Who would dare do that to such a good book?" she exclaimed, horrified at the thought of someone defacing her precious read.

Before Clara could respond, a group of high school students walked toward the cashier, animatedly discussing something that made Selene's heart skip a beat.

"Yes! I did finish reading it last night. Boy, was I crying my eyes out!" one girl laughed, her voice carrying through the bookstore.

"Yeah, I just finished 'The Tyrant's Child' earlier this morning. I didn't even sleep, and the audacity of the author to kill my beloved Rosalind??" the other girl playfully sobbed, fanning herself dramatically.

Selene froze in place, her heart racing as she processed the girl's words. "What?" she mumbled, her voice barely a whisper as a chill ran down her spine.

Without another second to think, she turned on her heel and rushed out of the bookstore, not hearing Clara calling after her. The cool evening air hit her like a wave, but she barely noticed as her mind raced.

The streets blurred around her as she sprinted toward home.

How could the author have done that? No... She couldn't possibly...

She burst through the door of her apartment, her heart pounding. The world outside faded away as she slammed her backpack down and hurried to her desk, opening the book in hand and flipping through the pages she last read with trembling hands.

*Last Scenes of the Book Selene was reading*

Rosalind knelt on the cold marble floor, her heart racing as she looked up at the imposing figure before her. Alaric, the tyrant king, stood tall and proud, his piercing gaze cutting through her like a blade.

"Your Majesty," she whispered, her voice trembling as she fought to hold back tears. "Please have mercy... I am pregnant with your child..."

Alaric's expression was a mask of indifference. He clenched his jaw as the tension radiated off him like heat from a forge.

"Do you take me for a fool, Rosalind?" he replied, his voice low and dangerous. "You expect me to believe that you—of all people—would bear my child? The daughter of a fallen noble, reduced to a mere plaything in my court?"

Rosalind's heart shattered at his words, but she pressed on with desperation clawing at her throat. "No! You don't understand! I loved you, Alaric. I still do! I never sought to deceive you. Please, do not cast me aside... I beg you."

The king took a step back while his brow furrowed as if her words struck a chord within him. "And what would you have me do? Marry you? A scandal that would bring my reign to its knees? I have an obligation to my kingdom."

Tears spilled down Rosalind's cheeks, glistening like jewels against her pale skin. "But I am carrying your child! Do you not see the weight of your actions? This is not only about you, Alaric, it's about our future!"

Alaric's eyes softened for a brief moment, but it was quickly masked by a hardened resolve. "A future built on a lie is no future at all." His voice was cold.

"Please, Your Majesty," Rosalind pressed, inching closer despite the danger in his gaze. "I can stay by your side even in secret but please do not cast me aside. We can make this work. Just give me a chance!"

"Enough!" Alaric's voice thundered through the chamber, echoing off the walls like a storm. "You are but a distraction, Rosalind. You have served your purpose. My marriage to a noble's daughter will secure my reign, and I will not be swayed by your pleas."

Rosalind's heart sank further as the weight of his rejection pressed down on her. "But... what of love?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "What of our love?"

Alaric's expression hardened once more. "Love is a luxury I cannot afford. You should know this by now."

With those final words, he turned on his heel and strode towards the door, leaving Rosalind kneeling in the shadows, broken and alone. The echo of his footsteps faded, replaced by the haunting silence of the chamber, as she struggled to grasp the reality of her situation.

"Alaric..." she breathed, despair washing over her. The flickering candlelight danced around her, casting fleeting shadows on the walls, as if reflecting the chaos in her heart. "What will become of us?"

~~~~~

And so days became weeks, and weeks became months. The kingdom erupted in joyous celebration as King Alaric married the noble's daughter, the grand halls adorned with lavish decorations, laughter echoing through the air. The people rejoiced, their king finally fulfilling the expectations of duty, and the anticipation of a new heir was the talk of every courtier.

Yet amidst the festivities, a shadow loomed over the realm—a clear contrast to the joy that enveloped the castle. Rosalind who was once the beloved of the king, had been cast aside like an unwanted relic. The world had moved on, but for her, time stood still.

Alaric's marriage was a spectacle, his new bride glowing with pregnancy, while the courtiers fawned over her, showering her with affection and praise. They spoke of her beauty, her grace, and the bright future that awaited their kingdom. But no one spoke of Rosalind, the woman whose heart had once intertwined with that of their king.

Her days turned into a haze of muted colors and quiet despair. Each sunrise brought a reminder of her solitude, each sunset a whisper of what could have been.

No one came to visit her, no one asked how she fared. They had forgotten the girl who had loved their king. She spent her days in the confines of her cottage, imagining of the future with her dead unborn child. A child she would never know, a child that should have been hers.

As she gazed out of her window, watching the banners flutter in the wind, her thoughts drifted to Alaric. Did he ever think of her? Did he remember the promises they had made? Or had she become nothing more than a fleeting memory, lost in the annals of his past?

The thought pierced through her heart like a dagger, and with it came a deep sorrow—one that followed her until her days finally came to an end.

But no one was even there to grieve for her.