The Problematic Prince

city and the gall to ask her to run away with him again, in the middle of the night, leaving her jerk husband behind.

   “If you have a problem with the bet, then let’s talk about it,” Bjorn said, swallowing the lump of anger.
“Yes, I made a bet and you were the prize of that bet, but what harm has it caused? Without that bet casting us together, you would have likely ended up with some stinking old man, tending to his deathbed, or some monster like Heinz, a man beyond redemption.
So wasn’t the bet more beneficial to you?”

   Bjorn looked at Erna, her sad appearance on the bed did not look back at him.

   “Ah, Pavel, are you upset you couldn’t run away with him? Run off into the sunset, holding hands while mocking your inconsiderate husband who only treats you like a trophy.”

   “It’s not like that,” Erna screamed, shaking her head.
“Pavel and I are, were, just friends.
So don’t talk about him like that.”

   “Well, friend I’m sure you are!“ Bjorn’s lips curled into a sneer.
“Don’t play ignorant, Erna, it’s a sin to be so insensitive, you understand? What friend would risk getting shot in the head and throwing away his future just to run away with a woman at night? What kind of friend would risk degenerating from a promising artist at the academy, to painting portraits on the street?”

   As his self-loathing grew, Bjorn’s hypocrisy only intensified and his anger spiralled out of control.
Why?

   Despite repeating the question several times, Bjorn still couldn’t find the answer, which only made him more nervous.
He felt a strange and irrational fear of himself, overwhelmed by emotions that he could no longer control.

   While his cards were on full display, he couldn’t see his opponent’s hand.
Something that would lead to inevitable loss and Bjorn had never lost before.

   “What will happen to the child, if we get divorced?” Bjorn’s eyes drifted to his wife’s belly.

   Erna blushed and wiped the tears away with the sleeve of her nightie and wrapped her arms around her belly, hugging herself.

   “The child…I will raise it.”

   “Are you kidding me?” Bjorn let out a mirthless laugh.
“Divorce if you want, but the child stays with me and the moment you walk away, you will never see the child again.
Are you sure you can handle that?”

   “B…but in the past…” Erna bit her lip, startled as she tried to respond.
She wanted to bring up Gladys, but something stopped her.

   An unscrupulous man who had an affair when his wife was pregnant and later, abandoned them both.
That was the problematic prince of Lechen, a widely known lie that Bjorn himself had orchestrated and decided to live with for the rest of his life.

   Erna and her child will live with that lie as truth, despite its obviousness, Bjorn couldn’t stand the look in her eyes as she believed it.
It was strange to find that he couldn’t live with that fabrication right now.

   “In the past, ah, Gladys, right…I gave Gladys her child,” saying the name slowly, Bjorn laughed.
“Because she is a Princess, unlike you, who lives in the remotest part of the world.”

   Bjorn knew that Erna would never abandon her child, which only fuelled his persistent cruelty even more.

   “I would never let our child grow up in such a secluded corner of the world, Erna.
If you’re confident that you’ll never see our child again, then go ahead and ask for a divorce.”

   At first, he tried to reassure Erna, who was often plagued by insecurities.
At least, he had started with that intention, but the mention of a divorce ruined everything.
Despite that, Bjorn had no regrets.
Erna would never bring it up again.
If he couldn’t claim back what was lost, then it was better to ensure no other alternative was available.

   “If I can give you the honest answer that you want,” Bjorn faced Erna again, expressionless, “I married you because you were quiet, harmless and beautiful.
You were a woman that could keep me entertained without opposing my way of life, just like the flower corsages that you keep fussing over.”

   As the image of a forever blooming flower brought to life by his wife’s fingertips came to his mind, Bjorn felt his anger melt away.
He believed that Erna had to be like that flower, always beautiful and unwavering, even in the face of such loss.
She was the only woman he had chosen for her utility and she had to hold onto that.

   “So, don’t think about anything else.
Stay where you are and give birth to our child.
It’s your only duty.”

   Bjorn’s long shadow cast over Erna, curled up on the bed, who was silently crying.

   “Now it’s your turn,” Bjorn’s large hand covered Erna’s face, “Answer me, Erna.”

   Erna’s tears flowed nonstop, soaking Bjorn’s hand.
She looked at him with a sharp, vacant stare, like a lost child and nodded slowly.

   “Yes,” she whispered.

   Bjorn sighed upon hearing Erna’s answer mixed with sorrowful sobs.
A feeling of relief mingled with a sense of embarrassment washed over him, leaving him feeling dirty, as if he had just bathed in muddy water.