Chapter 32: Was this fate?
Malakar’s breath hitched as his gaze locked onto the young girl in the deep sapphire gown. For a moment, he seems to be frozen; his usual composure starts slipping. The world around him seemed to fade into the background; only the muffled sound of his breathing was pounding in his ears. Her face—it was too similar, and disturbingly so.
That woman from his past. The one who he couldn’t forget even after so many centuries had passed.
His throat tightened, and the familiar storm of emotions stirred deep inside him. He swallowed hard, trying to regain control, but it was impossible to deny the sudden rush of disbelief, and something dangerously close to fear. His jaw dropped, and for a brief moment, the Crown Prince facade faltered as Malakar stood at the forefront.
The sapphire gown clung to the girl’s small frame, which made her appear fragile, much like the one from all those years ago. Her face—the high cheekbones, the delicate nose, even the shape of her lips—was nearly identical. It was as if the witch from his past had returned, reborn, standing before him in a new guise.
But the ensettling thing is she seems to be a pure human, she smells like a pure human and not of a witch tribe.
If they are the same Or it is just a mere coincidence. He couldn’t tell.
His hand twitched on the table, and for a fleeting moment, his demonic instincts screamed at him to hug her, and to possess her. But then he caught himself, his fingers curling into a tight fist as he forced down the urge.
This girl wasn’t the witch from his past, what if he was wrong that they have merely the same face and nothing else?
A whirlwind of emotions swirled in his chest—confusion at how this girl could look so much like her, and something darker, something deeper. It made his stomach churn, made him grit his teeth as he fought for composure. His breathing quickened, though he tried to mask it with a faint cough, his fingers drumming against the table in an effort to maintain a facade of calm.