41 frustration

Princess Margaret from the past:



My eyes darted around the room, taking in the kaleidoscope of colors and flashing lights. It was a dazzling spectacle, a far cry from the single-color lighting of my own world. This world, it was truly fascinating.

If I could just show this to my parents… But then I remembered. How could I show them this place, this world, when they were no longer alive, even in my own time?

A sad smile touched my lips, a bittersweet ache in my chest.

"Wanna drink?" Ezekiel asked, his voice a casual invitation. I glanced back at the door, my eyes scanning the crowd. I knew Eroz was still following me. Why would he leave this M-lookalike in the first place?

I was sure he was terrified. What if something happened to me? His beloved M would be affected. He couldn’t bear that.

"Do you like it here?" Ezekiel asked, his voice friendly. He held out a glass filled with a shimmering liquid, the aroma intoxicatingly sweet. I took a tentative sip, the taste a revelation. It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced.

"Wow, what is this?" I exclaimed, my eyes widening in delight. "What drink is this? It’s so delicious."

Ezekiel laughed, as if I'd said something funny. “You’re not serious, right? This is just a Long Island iced tea. It’s got alcohol in it, so watch out. But seriously, you haven’t tried this before? You don’t go to bars often? I thought you were a partygoer.”

I shook my head, remembering I was playing the part of this world's Margaret. “Well, I’ve been to bars, but I’m not really into drinks,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Ezekiel nodded, a knowing glint in his eyes. “I see. Maybe you have a low tolerance for alcohol? That’s why you don’t drink often? You’re only taking this drink because you’re frustrated?”

I smiled, feeling a sense of relief. He’d answered his own questions, and I didn’t have to explain myself.

I turned my head back toward the exit, and my eyes caught sight of Eroz entering the bar. I thought he’d left me. I hated him, but I felt a pang of disappointment that he hadn’t, a strange mix of emotions swirling within me.

I sighed, trying to shake off the lingering feelings of disappointment. I joined the throng of dancers, their movements a blur of energy and rhythm that I couldn’t quite grasp. I tried to mimic their steps, but my movements felt clumsy and slow. I couldn’t keep up. I laughed at myself, the sound swallowed by the music and the chatter.

A moment later, a friendly stranger offered me a drink, and I accepted, downing it in one gulp. The liquor was bittersweet, burning my throat but leaving a warm sensation in its wake. It ignited a fire within me, fueling a sudden burst of energy that propelled me onto the dance floor.

I found myself laughing along with the others, the joy a foreign sensation, a welcome change from the usual monotony of my existence. It was the first time I had truly enjoyed myself, truly felt alive.

But a pang of guilt pierced the fleeting happiness. I knew I shouldn’t be acting like this, that I should be mourning my parents, remembering them. But the thought of them was a gaping wound, a sharp object lodged in my chest. It felt like they were lost over and over again, each time a fresh wave of pain washing over me.

And then there was my best friend, or rather, his lookalike, pestering me. I couldn’t do anything about it. I had to accept that destiny was playing a cruel game with me. Yes, that was it. Destiny. Not a curse, not a punishment for some past life sins. Destiny.

But why did I care so much about his attention to other girls? The Erox I knew, the Erox from my world, was kind to me, though tough in his work. Silent, but harsh to his enemies. Gentle and understanding, especially with me. He always put me first. But this Erox, this version of him, was different. There was no kindness, no gentleness, only harshness. At first, I’d thought they were the same person, just… different circumstances. But over time, the differences became stark. This Erox was slowly transforming into the person I knew, and it terrified me.

But why did I care? Why did I feel this pang of jealousy? He wasn’t the Erox I knew. Even if he was, I’d be happy for him. I was the one who constantly nagged him about finding a mate. I loved seeing him happy in love.

I let out a heavy sigh, confusion swirling in my mind. Maybe I cared too much. But what was this feeling I had for this Erox, this version of him? Why wasn't I happy seeing him with other women?

"Let’s go home," he said his voice a quiet whisper.

As if summoned by my unspoken plea, Erox appeared before me, his hand closing around my wrist. A jolt of heat shot through me, a primal instinct screaming at me to resist. I remembered the way the woman had touched him earlier.

“Let go of me. I’m not coming with you,” I said, my voice sharp. I took a step back, fear gnawing at my insides as I saw the fire in his eyes. Thank goodness Ezekiel intervened, stepping between us. But it wasn’t a good thing. They were both tense, their faces contorted in a silent, unspoken battle. I braced myself, anticipating a physical confrontation.

Why was I so afraid? I had never been in a fight, never even witnessed one. My parents had kept me isolated in the palace, venturing outside only with a guard detail and Erox.

"Fine, let's go home," I said, my voice a fragile tremor in the air. "Don't make a scene, Erox. And Ezekiel, I'm sorry. We'll chat another time.”

“There’s no other time,” Erox grumbled, a hint of frustration lacing his words. “If you see each other again, it’ll be purely work.”