The Truth

Harlyn

I thought it was a joke. Part of me thought Stefan was mocking me, even when I grabbed those papers.

It wasn’t, and I hated it. I could barely stand or even understand anything that was going on around me. How could that night have been Stefan?

Today, I told him the truth, that the person that night seemed to crave me, and despite me having no control, there was a feeling like they cared for me. I felt safe in their arms.

How could that have been Stefan? He hated me, mocked me, and called me a wretch. I feel lost, like I'm standing between two versions of him: the one I remember when we were really young, the man that night, and then the one who was cruel and heartless.

Hearing the former king’s words about how Stefan was obsessed with finding the woman from that night, which was me, just tore me apart even more.

For two months, I was here. Did he hate me that much in the light he refused to even consider the possibility that it was me? A stranger I could have lived with, but S