Yours Truly

’’An unsung tale of two forsaken souls,

Secluded by love, isolated by mirth

No hope perceived in either soul 

Although fate hath other plans declared…’’

''Ophelia....''

''Yes?''

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

''I promise...''

Those few agonizing words kept on reverberating in his mind brimming with anguish, 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 just as the breeze hushed around him like the spectators in an arena, anticipating the climax of an event. The isolation engulfed his body, strangling him with despair as he knelt beside his deceased wife's grave. Tears threatening to cascade from his eyes, but Ah! His pride wouldn't have let him weep out his painful twinge.

''You lied to me sweet Ophelia...You lied that you'll stay with me forever...'' He whispered in a monotonous and slightly cracked voice. These were the same words he repeated every Friday whenever he visited her sepulcher, while he placed the bunch of white roses on her grave.

Her Favorite Flowers.

The Prince, who was once known for his charisma, his impressive smile and his witty quips, was buried long ago along with his wife. The person who stood in front of her grave with an impassive expression was no less than 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 alive and beside him, resting against his shoulder and humming a well-known tune while he would have breathed out a sigh as a sensation of being soothed tingled within him, but 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. Other than that were guilt and dolefulness that he felt occasionally as he thought about this dead wife.

Her beautiful face

her dazzling green eyes

her cheerful laugh

her soft voice.

All of it was nothing but a reminiscence that pierced his heart like a jagged dagger, twisting inside it like an assassin assassinating his victim ruthlessly. He could have written leaves after leaves on how painful it was to be bereft by his beloved wife, but all those words wouldn't have been enough to explain his broken heart. If only she didn't depart the way she did. His ache was almost at its verge and his sorrow was about to slip down his cheeks in the form of tears, but it looked like the heavens seemed to be aware of his woes and began pouring down as if trying to express its feelings to the prince, telling him that it understood his discomfort even if he assumed that nobody did. 

Time was supposed to heal his wounds, instead it added salt to them as every second that passed, reminding him that his mate was not with him anymore. His train of miserable thoughts came to a halt as he heard a familiar tender yet masculine voice calling out his name.

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

''I don't want to-'' Was the dour reply of the prince. He was shivering with cold, his eyes bloodshot, clashing with the colour of his dull cerulean iris. He just couldn't 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. It had been more than ten years since he served the royal family and was well aware of the grief the prince was suffering from. Joseph was more like a friend and an adviser than a servant for the prince. An exasperated sigh escaped through the cold lips of the Prince of Jevanna before he nodded and followed Joseph, tearing away his gaze from his wife's grave. He knew she was sleeping there peacefully, without him.