Chapter 309 Night Under the Withered Roses
The night had grown late when the rain finally stopped, leaving the rose garden, once vibrant with the memories of Fitran and Sheena's dance, now blanketed in dew, which created a calm and mysterious atmosphere. The familiar fragrance of flowers had faded; only the scent of damp earth rose into the air, imparting a deep sense of peace and tranquility. Each droplet of dew hung from the leaves, as if holding its breath, soaking into the profound silence that enveloped the garden.
Inside the quiet room, candlelight danced softly on the stone walls. Heavy gray silk curtains draped down, trapping warmth within. Darkness and light intertwined, creating an intimate ambiance, as if time had paused just for the two of them.
Sheena stood before the window, clad in a delicate white nightgown that captivated with its simplicity, feeling smooth against her skin. Her back was exposed, with moonlight enveloping her like a shimmering silver shawl. Her long black hair cascaded down to her waist, partially concealing the ancient family spell tattoo on her shoulder—a symbol of power that only she bore. In her heart, a repressed longing blossomed, coupled with a deep desire to share both the burdens and the pain that had haunted her for so long.
Fitran approached slowly, his footsteps silent on the blue carpet. After finishing his evening attire, his eyes remained fixed on Sheena's figure. The distance between them seemed to vibrate, radiating an unspoken weight of emotions, caught between doubt and hope.
"Sheena," he called softly, his voice trembling gently and filled with sincerity, filling the silent space with hope.
However, Sheena did not turn, her gaze fixed outward as if searching the night sky for answers. "I have chosen that crown, but I have not chosen myself," she declared, the weight of her words heavy with significance.
Her voice slipped out like a broken whisper, revealing a deep fear—she was afraid of losing herself in the hopes of others.
Fitran moved closer and stood behind her. His hand touched Sheena's shoulder, his rough yet warm fingers soothing her cold skin. He felt Sheena's heartbeat quicken, signaling the anxiety she could not hide. You don't need to decide tonight. Just allow me to hold you, as the man who loves you, not as your subject," he said, his voice vibrating with hope. There was sincerity in his embrace; he wanted to be her protector, affirming that love could overcome any obstacle. In his heart, he prayed to save Sheena from the burden that gnawed at her soul.
Sheena closed her eyes as tears streamed down her cheeks, signaling the conflict between hope and fear raging within her soul. In the stillness of the night, each drop held the weight of a painful past.
"If I get pregnant, the world will condemn our child as the unwanted heir to a power unlovable. They will steal its childhood just as they stole mine," her voice trembled with deep uncertainty, emphasizing the heavy burden she bore—the lingering echoes of her own traumatic past. "But if I don't choose you tonight, I'm afraid the world will snatch that chance from me too, leaving me with no other option."
Fitran whispered softly, his voice like the gentle caress of the night breeze, "I won't let anyone dictate our fate." There was determination in his eyes, piercing through the shadows of doubt enveloping them.