He’s an asshole

Michael hadn't touched her since their wedding day.

Not once. And it has been two months since their marriage and the palace became a prison rather than a home.

Lylie wasn't naive. She hadn't expected a fairytale romance, hadn't expected passion or whispered love. But she had expected something. A conversation. A flicker of warmth. Even just... acknowledgment.

And maybe they can get along.

Instead, he treated her like she was nothing.

A shadow. A duty. A mistake.

And it infuriated her.

Because she was Lylie Foster.

She was loud. She was impossible to ignore.

And yet, Michael was doing just that.

Every single day.

Every single night.

It was bugging her big time.

And Lylie was done pretending it didn't bother her.

********

She stormed into his chambers without knocking.

The guards outside barely had time to react before she was already inside, slamming the doors behind her.

Michael was at his desk, flipping through a stack of documents. He barely looked up.

"You're not allowed in here and you know it very well," he said flatly.

Lylie crossed her arms. "Funny. I thought I was your wife."

Michael finally lifted his gaze, eyes dark and unreadable. "And?"

Lylie clenched her fists. "And husbands usually share a room with their wives. Remember?"

Michael leaned back in his chair. "We are not a normal husband and wife. Remember?"

Lylie scoffed. "No, really? I hadn't noticed. Seems like something is wrong with my medulla."

Michael exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Lylie, leave."

"No."

His eyes snapped to her.

She stepped closer, refusing to be intimidated. "Do you hate me, Michael?"

Silence.

Michael didn't answer. Didn't even flinch.

And somehow, that was worse than if he had screamed at her.

Lylie's throat tightened. "Do you regret marrying me?"

Still, nothing.

Just a cold, empty stare.

Lylie swallowed hard. She hated the sting in her chest, the stupid burn behind her eyes.

And the stupid tears that threatened to go loose.

Because she wasn't weak.

She wasn't some lovesick fool pining for a man who clearly didn't want her.

She was Lylie.

And yet...

Yet, somehow, she had started to care.

And that realization?

It terrified her.

Michael finally stood, his expression unreadable. "This marriage is nothing more than an obligation, the people wanted a queen so I gave them one," he said quietly. "You knew that."

Lylie's breath caught.

Obligation.

Not a wife.

Not a partner.

Just... an obligation.

Her nails dug into her palms. "You're a bastard, Michael."

His lips twitched, but there was no humor in his expression. "So I've been told."

Lylie turned on her heel, marching toward the door.

But before she left, she paused.

Without looking back, she whispered, "You can push me away all you want, Michael. But one day, you'll realize that you can't ignore me forever."

Then, she walked out.

Leaving Michael alone.

And for the first time, his mask slipped—just a little.

Just enough for regret to flicker in his eyes.

—

“You can’t blame him, Lylie,” Ayanna said gently, her voice softer than usual as she watched Lylie pace back and forth in frustration.

“My father—our father—shaped him into that man. Rough. Tough. Cold. Always in control. Always ready for war. He was raised to be a king, not a person. They stripped the softness out of him before he even knew what love was. Told him emotions made him weak. That kindness was a crack in the armor. That caring for someone would be his downfall. So no—he wasn’t taught to love. He was taught to command. And now he’s stuck in a world where power is everything, and affection is a liability. But that doesn’t mean he can’t change. It just means no one ever showed him how.”

"A leader is supposed to rule people with love and kindness. Not with fear."

"My father never thought so. He preferred being feared. And he taught Michael that ever since he was a boy."

"Than he doesn't know what type of a bastard he raised!"

—

Lylie refused to let Michael be the only one who dictated their marriage.

If he wanted to act like she didn't exist, fine.

She would make sure he felt her presence anyway. She will try to tame him.

She attended every royal event. Sat beside him at banquets. Spoke loudly whenever he was in the room.

She laughed.

She danced.

She lived.

And she made sure Michael saw every second of it.

At first, he ignored her.

But Lylie was nothing if not persistent.

And soon, she caught the flickers of irritation in his eyes. The way his jaw tensed when another lord leaned too close.

Good.

If Michael wanted to pretend she didn't matter?

She would force him to care.

Even if it meant starting a war neither of them was ready to fight.