Derek's POV
I stared at my hand, not out of curiosity this time, but in pure amazement at the deep peace I felt in that single moment. I didn't want to leave it behind, but of course nothing in life is permanent. I ignored the lingering voice and slowly walked through the open field, letting the fresh air fill my lungs and that refreshing scent of wild grass and earth wash over me.
The war would soon begin, and I had to be ready for whatever it threw at us.
"Derek! Derek! Are you all right?" Tatiana's voice cut through the quiet.
I chuckled softly. "Why are you acting like a chick about to lose its mother?"
She threw a punch my way, fast and sharp. I dodged just in time, but the unlucky tree behind me took the full force and collapsed with a loud crack. My eyes widened in bewilderment. As usual, she tried to play the "I don't care" card, brushing it off like nothing had happened.
"What just happened?" I asked, half-laughing. "Were you trying to destroy this perfect face? Do you want to receive my wrath?"
She burst into fits of laughter, crouching down and holding her tummy as tears of joy streamed down her cheeks. She sounded so happy… so relieved… so completely unafraid. The question finally rose to the surface: what had turned her into this cold monster I had first met? But before I could ask, I knew I had to tell her a story—my story.
On the day of this boy's birth, his mother gave up the ghost. Two years later, his father remarried. Their family felt complete once again. The boy cherished his new mom, and for a while life felt almost perfect. But on his brother's sixteenth birthday, he was out in the garden chatting joyfully with his mother when a man suddenly walked in. Without warning, the stranger drew out a knife and stabbed her numerous times. The boy stood there, completely dumbfounded. When he finally looked closer, horror washed over him—he realized it was his own butler.
He didn't move. He didn't react. He was rooted to the spot in shock. The butler knocked him out cold. When he finally woke up, he was surrounded by frantic people. His hands were gripping a stained dagger, and his mother lay lifeless in his lap. People rushed to his side, firing questions that quickly turned into accusations. He was speechless. Something was terribly wrong with the entire scene.
That glorious day, his father gave up on him completely. "Every single mother you've had has died in your hands. You are an ungrateful child."
His father turned into a hollow shadow of the man he once was, and the boy became a target of ridicule from everyone around him. His life became like a controlled robot—empty, mechanical, and silent. He could never spill the truth, no matter how much it burned inside him.
The man who had once made him smile, laugh, and feel truly free was gone forever. All that remained was a broken piece he couldn't reach, no matter how hard he tried.
And today, here I was—a supposed dead prince standing in the middle of nowhere with my bride by my side. Very interesting, wasn't it?
I spent the rest of the day quietly observing Tatiana. Time and time again, I was left utterly speechless. Her whole presence gave me goosebumps, and I slowly began losing my usual confidence around her, as if she were quietly intimidating me without even trying. The way she moved, the way she spoke—it all felt larger than life.
"Derek, what's with your attitude?" she asked suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts. "We have to plan, but you're just staring at me with bloodshot eyes."
I gave her a friendly smile, hoping it would ease her suspicion, but she clearly wasn't buying it.
"The plan is quite simple but dangerous, so beware," I said, keeping my voice steady. "We'll split up. You head to Britain, and I'll go to Greece. I'll take the identity of a gardener; you'll pose as a maid. Here's your mask—this one is mine."
We talked through every detail of the plan and even worked out a solid Plan B, just in case. Hopefully we wouldn't need it. We then parted ways, heading in two completely different directions with fresh passports and money tucked safely in our bags.
I had one unfortunate problem I hadn't anticipated: I had grown so used to her constant presence that leaving her felt like stepping into hell itself. Still, I kept walking, forcing one foot in front of the other. If we wanted peace, we had to fight—and we had to win.
Loneliness crept in faster than I expected, wrapping around me like a heavy cloak. But I had to keep moving. Time was of the essence. When I finally arrived at my destination, I started working as a gardener. The work wasn't hard; I had lived in the wild for a while, so handling soil and plants felt almost natural. I kept my ears and eyes on high alert at all times and was able to gather an enormous amount of useful information. Of course it helped—why do you think I'm an empty barrel?!!!!!!!
Every single night, as I lay in the simple quarters they had given me, I wondered how Tatiana was faring and hoped—maybe even prayed—that she missed me just a little. These thoughts felt hilarious and ridiculous, but I still held onto them. I still prayed for the best.