CHAPTER 198: THE QUEEN WHO FELT DIRTY

She liked to laze around, but she had never skipped meals before. Eating something sweet used to be her favorite part of the day. In fact, if she didn’t get at least one sugary treat, she’d get a little cranky by evening.

But lately, even that has changed.

Even though Edmund had sent all kinds of sweet things to her room—cookies, cakes, candies—Primrose barely touched them.

The jars of cookies were still sitting neatly on the shelves, completely full, untouched since the last time Marielle had filled them.

For people who spent a lot of time with her, like Solene and Marielle, it was only natural that they found it strange when the queen suddenly refused sweets.

And Edmund, who had always watched her closely through Bunnie’s eyes, noticed it too, even before Solene reported it to him.

So ... she really wasn’t fine at all.

She hadn’t even bothered to fix her hair in days. She would just brush it lazily, tie it up without care, and go about her day like it didn’t matter.

Wait ... when was the last time she sprayed perfume on her body? Had it really been since her time in Moonshadow? That far back?

It confused her how Edmund could still say she smelled nice.

"That’s not wrong," Primrose said softly, lowering her head as the small smile on her face slowly disappeared. "But I think... new dresses aren’t what I need right now."

"Then tell me," Edmund replied gently. "What do you need right now? I’ll give it to you."

There was a long silence.

Primrose didn’t speak right away. She just stared at the floor, her fingers curling slightly as if trying to hold herself together. Finally, she looked up.

Her golden eyes, which were usually so warm and full of life suddenly looked dull. Empty. So empty that Edmund couldn’t find even the faintest spark in them.

"Maybe ..." she began quietly, "we should talk about what happened to me a few days ago."

"You don’t have to talk about it now," Edmund said quickly, his voice calm but concerned. "There’s still plenty of time—"

"No." She cut him off before he could finish. "We need to talk about it now. I need to talk about it now."

She blinked several times, her lips trembling with the fear still hiding deep inside her. "I can’t keep running like this. I can’t keep hiding in my bedroom while my work keeps piling up."

"I’m the Queen of Noctvaris." She held her head high, doing her best to hide the fear behind her sense of duty.

"If I keep breaking down like this, how can I lead anyone?" she whispered, her voice shaking despite her effort to stay strong. "How can I protect this kingdom if I can’t even protect myself?"

"I know you want to shield me," Primrose continued, "but if you keep acting like nothing happened, like I’m too fragile to face it ... then I’ll never heal. I need to face it, even if it hurts."

Edmund didn’t interrupt. He didn’t rush in to comfort her with soft words or promises. He just stood there, letting her speak, letting her say everything she needed to say.

"I don’t need pretty dresses, Edmund," she said at last, reaching for his hands and holding them tightly, as if they were the only thing keeping her grounded. "I need to feel like I still have control over my own life. That I’m not just some helpless girl who got hurt and never recovered."

"You’re not helpless, Primrose," Edmund finally spoke. His eyes darkened, not with anger, but sorrow. "You’re healing and healing takes time."

"I know," she whispered back. "But ... I don’t like living like this."

She paused, her breath catching in her throat. "It feels like I’m here. My body is here, but my mind and my soul ... they’re somewhere else."

She swallowed hard, trying to hold back her tears. "I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t even read books in peace."

She hadn’t cried at all these past few days, and Primrose had thought that was something to be proud of. But the more she thought about it ... the more she realized she’d just been hiding her real feelings behind a smile.

She might not have cried, but sometimes, she’d find herself just standing in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection for far too long.

She wasn’t doing it to admire her beauty, like she used to. She was doing it because of a single thought that kept creeping into her mind. "If only I didn’t have this face ... would I be able to live more peacefully?"

There was even a day when she picked up a pair of scissors.

She held them tightly, her fingers trembling as she stared at the ends of her hair. She wanted to cut it all off, something she never would’ve imagined doing because she had always treasured her long hair more than anything.

But at that moment ... she hated it.

Thankfully, she snapped out of it quickly and immediately threw the scissors away, as if they burned her hands.

At first, she didn’t understand why she had even felt that way. But after sitting with the thought for a while, she finally realized Thevan had touched her hair.

He had played with it, twirled it around his fingers like it meant nothing, like it was a toy. And then he pulled her hair back to see her delicate neck.

Since then, no matter how many times she asked Marielle to wash it ... no matter how many times she brushed it until strands started falling out, her hair still felt dirty.

And it wasn’t just her hair.

Her skin.

Her lips.

Her face.

Every part of her that he had touched felt like it was covered in something she could never scrub off.

Like a stain she couldn’t clean, no matter how hard she tried.

Primrose took a deep breath and spoke all at once, as if letting it out quickly would hurt less. "I know it’s not my fault. I know there’s nothing wrong with me ... but still, I feel dirty. And I ... I’m disgusted with myself."