The Dead Queen’s Diary

"Julian, I’m exhausted. Where is my room?" I mumbled, dragging my feet.

"Honey, it’s our room," he muttered, pressing his palm against my lower back, guiding me toward the stairs,

To the end of the hall he stopped at a massive door.

I froze as he pushes the door open, the room was twenty times bigger than the car I had been living in, i had only seen this kind of luxury in movies.

I wandered into a walk-in closet that looked like a boutique, fill with Endless rows of designer's bags and shoes lined the walls. I always knew I had immaculate taste, but this layout was insane.

I turned back to the vanity table, walking over as i finally looked at my own face.

Damn, I was gorgeous, thin, and curvy in all the right places. I looked like a goddess, but inside, I felt like a stranger wearing a mask.

Julian stepped up behind me, placing his large hands on my shoulders leaning down, his cologne filling the air.

"This is the woman I fell in love with," he mumbled.

As his fingers moved toward my waist, I shoved him away.

To the current me this guy was just a gorgeous stranger.

I didn't know him, and I didn't know why his touch made me feel so unsafe.

Julian stumbled backward, he didn't look mad. he looked profoundly tired.

"Elena, I get it. You don’t feel secure right now," he muttered, keeping his eyes locked on mine.

"But i belive you will fall back in love with me just like you did the first time, I’m going to check on Jackson. Get some rest."

when the door click shut, I felt a massive wave of relief, then immediate loneliness.

I paced the room, tearing through the dresser drawers and nightstands.

I looked for anything—a note, an old photo, a scrap of paper—anything to explain who I had been for the last eleven years.

I felt like a prisoner in a museum, everything was perfect, but nothing belonged to me.

I found a jewelry box overflowing with diamonds, but not a single photo. I found rows of expensive perfumes, but no journals. Nothing.

My eyes caught a wall safe in the corner. I punched in my birthday, but the lock didn't budge. Exhaustion hit me, so I crawled into the king-size bed. Tomorrow, I told myself, I would find a way to crack this code.

The next morning, I headed straight downstairs. The moment Julian saw me enter the dining area, he started begging for my forgiveness.

Am sorry for touching your last night.

"It’s fine, Julian."

Geez, has this man has always been like this, I mean, it is kinda nice seeing someone truly care as much as apologising over little things.

Jackson sat across from me, staring. I had no idea what to say to my own son, so I kept my eyes down and focused on my food.

Once dinner was over, Julian brought over a photo album. It was packed with pictures of me at nineteen, pregnant with Jackson, and snapshots of me with friends Julian claimed were my bestfriends, in every picture, I looked happy. In most, Julian and I looked lovey-dovey.

My fingers trembled as I flipped through them. In one shot, Julian kissed my temple while I cradled a newborn Jackson. I looked radiant. I belonged in his world.

But the longer I stared at my smiling face, the more sick to my stomach I felt.

I had zero memory of being that girl. I couldn't remember the warmth in those eyes. It felt like I was reviewing scenes from a romance movie starring as an actress who happened to look exactly like me.

Julian sat on the edge of the couch, tracking my expressions.

"Is this really me?" I asked, pointing to a photo of us on a yacht, a giant diamond ring sparkling on my finger.

"It’s you, Elena. Every bit of it."

​I slammed the album shut. It was too much. The whole thing felt like a beautiful, engineered lie.

​As I headed upstairs, I caught Julian’s reflection in the hallway mirror.

​His warm, doting smile had vanished, he stood alone, staring down at the closed book with a chilling expression, he looked like he was plotting something.