"Ophelia...''

''Yes?''

''Promise that you'll never abandon me, ever-''

''I promise...''

Those few agonizing words reverberated in his mind like a broken record that ceaselessly repeated the same infuriating note again and again.

Seven years had passed since that grievous incident befell on the Prince of Jevanna, but time seemed to stop for him. Isolation engulfed his body and strangled him with despair as he knelt beside his deceased wife's grave.

Tears threatened to cascade down his eyes, but his pride wouldn't let him weep away the twinge.

''You lied to me sweet Ophelia...when you said that you'd stay with me forever...'' He whispered monotonously. The very same words he repeated every Friday when he visited her sepulcher. Never forgetting to place a bouquet of white roses on her grave.

Her Favorite Flowers.

Prince Matthew, who was once known for his charisma was buried long ago along with his wife. The person who stood in front of her grave now was a statue fashioned out of his callous fate's spite.

If only he could go back in time - if only she was not persistent. She still would have been besides him. Resting against his shoulder and humming a well-known tune. Of course those suppositions were just to provide solace to his tumultuous mind.

''Oh dear Ophelia, if only... if I knew who it was...'' He gritted his teeth in ill humor.

Rage, the only emotion he was acquainted with in these seven agonizing years. Aside from that was guilt which he felt as he reminisced about his dead wife.

Her beautiful face,

her dazzling green eyes,

her cheerful laugh...

All of it was nothing but a recollection that pierced his heart like a jagged dagger. He could have written pages on how painful it was, but all those words would not have been enough to explain his broken heart.

If only she had not departed the way she did.

Time was supposed to heal his wounds, but instead it added salt to them. Each and every second reminded him that his mate was no longer with him anymore. His train of miserable thoughts came to a halt as he heard a familiar, tender yet masculine, voice calling out to him.

''Sire, I believe it's time to leave. You might catch a cold.''  He stated, his eyes cast down in respect.

''I don't want to-'' The prince replied impassively. He was shivering with cold and his eyes were bloodshot as they clashed with the colour of his dull sapphire irises. He could not care less; he just wanted to spend some time alone with his wife. Dead wife.

''...Your wife wouldn't be pleased if I let you stay in the rain.'' Mumbled the most loyal servant of the prince. An exasperated sigh escaped through the cold lips of the Prince of Jevanna before he nodded and followed Joseph, disdainfully tearing away his gaze from his wife's grave.

He knew she was sleeping there peacefully..... Without him.