Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King Chapter 147

ADELE'S POV

The garden had always been my safe place. A quiet corner of the palace where the flowers never judged and the wind never asked questions I didn't want to answer. Today, though, even the beauty around me felt dull—muted like my heart.

I sat on the stone bench Emilia loved so much, the one tucked beneath the shade of a huge flowering tree. Light filtered through the leaves, warm and soft, but I couldn't feel any of it. My hands twisted together in my lap. My chest felt tight, like someone had wrapped invisible fingers around my ribs and was slowly squeezing.

I didn't want to cry again. I had cried enough last night to fill the palace fountain.

But the ache was still there. Heavy. Constant. Eating me from the inside.

Footsteps approached, light but confident. No one else in the palace walked quite like that—graceful yet grounded, like she carried the weight of an entire kingdom but never let it crush her.

Emilia.

"Adele," she called softly.

I didn't look up. If I did, I knew the tears sitting in my eyes would fall.

She came to sit beside me without asking, her gown rustling against the bench. For a second she said nothing—just reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with gentle fingers. Like she was brushing sorrow itself off my skin.

"You didn't come to breakfast," she said quietly.

I swallowed hard. "I wasn't hungry."

Her eyes softened. "You haven't been hungry in days."

I exhaled shakily. "I...couldn't face everyone. Not today."

"Because of Lucien?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.

My throat tightened, and I hated that just hearing his name made my eyes burn again. I blinked fast, trying to keep the tears from spilling.

"He walked out again," I whispered.

Emilia closed her eyes like the words physically hurt her. "Adele..."

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong." My voice wobbled, cracking in the middle. "I try. God, Emilia, I've tried so hard. I've done everything to make him comfortable. I gave him space. I stayed patient. I kept telling myself he needed time. But it's been four months. Four months of sleeping in separate rooms. Four months of him avoiding even brushing his hand against mine." I shook my head, staring at my trembling fingers. "I can't pretend it doesn't hurt anymore."

She reached for my hands and held them firmly in hers. "Look at me."

I didn't want to. I didn't want her to see how much I was breaking.

But I did.

And the moment her warm, steady eyes met mine, the dam inside me cracked again.

She squeezed my hands gently. "Adele, listen. I know these men. They act tough on the outside but inside? They're breaking too. They just hide it better than we do. And Lucien... he's complicated."

A sad, humorless laugh escaped me. "Complicated. Yes. That's one word for him."

"He's hurting," she continued. "More than you think."

I shook my head. "He won't even look at me, Emilia. Not unless I force him to. He won't sleep in the same bed. He won't mark me. He won't even hold my hand. How is that hurting? It feels like he's running away from me."

"He's not running away," she said softly. "He's fighting something."

I let out a shaky breath. "Then why won't he let me help him? Why won't he talk to me? Why won't he at least try?" My voice cracked again. "Emilia, I'm his mate. Not a stranger."

Her thumb brushed my knuckles, soothing but unable to reach the place inside me that felt like a fresh wound.

"You should see the way he looks at you, Adele," she said.

A bitter scoff slipped out before I could stop it. "His definition of looking at me is strange, then."

Emilia rolled her eyes gently. "No. I'm serious. He watches you like you're his whole world. Like if anything happened to you, he would lose his mind."

I swallowed hard, my chest twisting painfully. "If he feels that way, he hides it too well."

"Adele..."

"He can't have it both ways," I interrupted softly. "It's either he wants me or he doesn't. Either he chooses this bond or he doesn't. I can't keep living in the space between."

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The wind moved through the garden, carrying the scent of jasmine and something faintly sweet. A bird chirped somewhere above us. Life kept happening around me while mine felt stuck—caught between hope and despair.

Emilia looked like she wanted to say more, but she didn't. She just sat with me in the silence.

The quiet stretched, heavy but strangely comforting. She didn't rush me, didn't push. She simply let me exist in the ache.

But my mind wouldn't stay still.

It wandered back—to the way Lucien had inhaled sharply when I touched him. The way his thigh tensed under my fingers. The way the bond pulsed for a moment like it remembered what it was made for.

And then—

The way he'd pulled away. Again. And again. And again.

The sting of last night burned in my chest all over again. His flat tone. His distant eyes. The soft sound of the door closing behind him like he was afraid even that would break me further.

I pressed my lips together, fighting the sharp ache clawing up my throat.

"What if I'm the only one hurting?" I whispered.

"You're not," Emilia said immediately.

"You don't know that."

She turned my face toward her gently. "I do."

I let out a small, broken sound. "Emilia, it's been four months. Four months. My mate doesn't even want to share a bed with me."

Her expression softened, but her sigh carried the weight of something deeper. "That man is crazy about you."

I scoffed lightly. "If this is what crazy looks like, I think I might prefer calm."

She laughed under her breath, but there was no humor in it. More like frustration. Or sympathy. "Men are not simple creatures, Adele. Especially men like Lucien."

"You don't have to defend him," I said quietly.

"I'm not," she replied. "I'm defending the truth."

I leaned back slightly, staring at the garden path in front of me. Shadows moved as clouds drifted overhead, soft and shifting. Everything looked peaceful except for the war inside my chest.

A war I was slowly losing.

"Emilia?" I whispered.

"Yes?"

"If he wanted me, wouldn't he have... shown it? At least once?"

"He has shown it," she insisted. "Just not in the ways you want. Or need."

"So what am I supposed to do?" I asked, my voice small. "Keep waiting? Keep hoping? Keep pretending I don't feel like I'm slowly disappearing in front of him?"

Her gaze softened. "I would never ask you to pretend."

"Then what do I do?"

She hesitated. And that hesitation terrified me more than anything she could've said.

Because Emilia always had answers. Always had clarity. Always had something wise that made me feel less lost.

But right now... she looked worried.

Uncertain.

And that made my stomach twist.

"Adele..." she began slowly. "You have to talk to him again. Calmly. Not in the heat of pain. Ask him what he's afraid of. Ask him what he's hiding from you."

A tear rolled down my cheek, and I didn't wipe it away. "What if he doesn't answer me?"

"Then you try again."

"And if he still doesn't?"

Her grip on my hands tightened. "Then I will talk to him."

That startled me. Emilia rarely interfered in other people's business. But the way she said it—firm, protective, ready to fight—made something inside my chest loosen just a little.

I let my head drop, my hair falling around my face like a curtain. "You really think he cares?"

"I know he does."

The quiet settled again, but this time it felt different—heavier, like the air was holding its breath with me.

A thought drifted into my mind. Unwanted. Dark. Like a shadow sliding across the sun.

It made my heart thud painfully against my ribs.

I tried to push it away, but it grew bigger, louder, more suffocating with every passing second.

My pulse quickened. My fingers trembled in Emilia's grip.

I didn't want to say it.

I didn't even want to think it.

But the fear that had been whispering in the back of my mind for months clawed its way to the surface.

And before I could stop myself, the question slipped out of me—soft, fragile, shaking.

"Emilia..." I whispered.

She turned to me immediately. "Yes?"

My heart pounded so hard it hurt. My lips felt numb. My voice was barely a breath when it came out.

"Do you... do you think he'll reject me?"