The past few weeks had been a blur—one long stretch of exhaustion, headaches, and endless frustration. My life had become a cycle of feeling weak, and every morning, I woke up hoping that I'd feel better, but the truth was, I didn't. The pregnancy had taken more out of me than I'd ever imagined.
It wasn't just the physical toll it took—it was the emotional one, too. I hated feeling so vulnerable, so helpless. It was as if my body was betraying me. All the things I'd prided myself on, all the strength and resilience that had defined me for years, felt like they were slipping away, replaced by a vulnerability I couldn't control. And it was driving me crazy.
It was annoying.
I had been strong once. I was a princess, for heaven's sake. I didn't ask for this. I didn't want this.
Darius… well, he hadn't spoken to me since that night. Since I told him I was pregnant. I hated how he walked out without a word, without even acknowledging the news. It was as though he was indifferent to everything, including the life I carried inside me.
But I wasn't surprised. His coldness was expected. He didn't care about me, let alone the child. He'd never seen me as anything more than an inconvenience. I'd heard him call me a "lazy rat," and I had no doubt he saw this pregnancy as nothing more than another weakness.
I wouldn't let it be. I wouldn't let the pregnancy soften me.
I couldn't afford to.
I overheard one of the maids gossiping as she passed by my room, "The Queen has gone soft. Ever since she got pregnant, she's been nothing but lazy and fragile."
That comment stung more than I cared to admit. It was a slap to the face, a reminder of everything I didn't want to be. I couldn't let anyone think I was weak. Not now, not ever.
Before I could even open my mouth to protest, my back suddenly jolted with a wave of pain. It shot through my spine, a constant, unrelenting ache that had become all too familiar.
I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore it, but the pain was like a suffocating cloud, hanging over me, making it harder to breathe. I leaned against the wall, trying to steady myself.
No.
This was not how things were supposed to go.
I wasn't supposed to be weak, bent over with pain and unable to function. I wasn't supposed to be this woman—tired, fragile, unsure of everything.
But what was I supposed to do? I couldn't run away. I couldn't escape the reality of the situation. This child was here, and I was going to have to deal with it, whether I liked it or not.
As I stood there, clutching the side of the bed for support, I realized something. I didn't want to be this person—the one who was weak, who was at the mercy of her circumstances. I had always fought for what I wanted. Always fought for my strength.
And I would fight now.
For the sake of my child, for the sake of my dignity, I would not allow myself to crumble under the pressure.
Not now.
I would get through this. I had to.
So, I straightened up, took a deep breath, and steadied myself. No more weakness. No more letting pain control me.
This was just another battle. And I was done losing.
The decision weighed heavily on my heart. I loved the child already, but the reality of the situation was too much to ignore. Darius... that cold, ruthless bastard. He would never love the child. The thought of it growing up without a father who cared, without even a semblance of love or protection, gnawed at me.
I couldn't allow that. The child deserved better. It deserved more than this broken, chaotic situation. The idea of raising it in a home where love was nonexistent, where every day would be an emotional battlefield, felt like a prison I could never escape. I couldn't let it happen. I couldn't bring a life into a world of hate and indifference.
So, I made a choice. I'd find a way to fix it. I didn't want to be carrying this burden anymore.
I didn't go to the hospital, though. I didn't need the doctors and their questions. I'd heard enough. So, I found the pills I'd been warned about. It wasn't the easiest decision, but it was the one I made. The drug would take care of everything, and I wouldn't have to face the consequences of a choice I wasn't ready for.
I swallowed them, feeling the cold, hard pill slide down my throat, and then I went to bed. It wasn't until later that night, when I woke up, that I could feel the difference. The physical relief washed over me. There was no more nausea, no more aching. I felt... lighter, like a weight had been lifted from my chest.
But the emotional toll? It still lingered. The decision hadn't been easy. It never was. But the moment I woke up feeling different, I knew I had done what needed to be done. I had taken control of my life again.
And now, I was ready to punish those little snotty maids who dared gossip about me. I could hear them whispering behind my back, calling me weak, calling me "soft," because of my pregnancy. As if they had any right to speak about me, to judge me. They were nothing but lowly servants, and I'd had enough of their gossip.
I stood up, a fire burning inside me, and I stormed down the hallway. I wasn't going to tolerate this. Not anymore. They had no idea who they were dealing with. No more pretending. No more being passive.
I found them gathered in the servant's quarters, chatting, laughing, completely unaware that I was about to unleash hell on them. They immediately fell silent when they saw me. The fear in their eyes was almost satisfying.
"Well, look who's gone soft," I spat, my voice icy. "You think I don't hear the things you say about me? You think you can gossip about me like I'm some fool? You have no idea what I'm capable of."
The maids shifted uneasily, but I could see the hesitation in their eyes. They knew what was coming.
"You want to gossip about me? Want to talk about how lazy I am? How I'm a 'soft' queen?" I sneered. "Well, let me tell you something. I'm not the one who's soft. You are. You're the ones who think you can hide behind your little whispers, but you're not getting away with it anymore."
I walked up to the nearest maid, grabbed her by the wrist, and twisted it slightly, watching her wince. "I'm the Queen here. And you will learn to respect me. You will learn to shut your mouths and do your jobs. Or I'll make sure you regret it."
The fear in their eyes intensified. I could feel the power surging through me, and I reveled in it. This was what I had been missing—the ability to control, to demand respect. For once, I wasn't the one at the mercy of anyone. They were the ones who were afraid of me.
"Now, get to work," I growled. "And if I hear another word of gossip from any of you, I'll make sure you regret it for the rest of your lives."
It felt good. This power. This control.
For once, I was the one holding the cards. And they would learn to respect me—because I wa
sn't going to let anyone, not even a bunch of maids, walk all over me again.