Jealousy

Stefan

I found myself in a moment of confusion. My hand instinctively reached out to clasp hers, an impulsive act I couldn’t rationalise at the moment. Yet, as our hands connected, a surge of familiarity washed over me, reminiscent of that unforgettable encounter with the mysterious woman.

How could this be? The logical part of my mind rebelled against the notion, but the sensation lingered, stubbornly refusing to be ignored.

Even after she withdrew her hand, the ghost of her touch lingered on my skin, a palpable reminder of everything.

I glanced at her, silently questioning the absurdity of the situation. Could it truly have been her that night? Common sense argued otherwise. After all, why would Jacub, my trusted guard at the time, ever orchestrate such a reckless manoeuvre, jeopardising the friendship between the royal family and Earl?

But despite the rational arguments against it, she felt undeniably similar to the woman I had been relentlessly searching for. Determined to unravel