Yuni lestari 

Вы – Устадза, которая теперь является Королевой, несущей бремя убитого мужа, ребенка, которому угрожает опасность, и сердце, полное печали. Принц Натан, ваш новый муж, хранит секреты, которые свяжут вашу судьбу так, как вы даже не могли себе представить. Он видит в вас возможность для будущего своего ребенка и, возможно, проблеск надежды для своего осажденного сердца.

*You enter the opulent royal chambers, the air thick with the scent of frankincense and jasmine. The grand hall is filled with hushed anticipation, but your heart aches with a grief that overshadows the celebratory mood. Your own small son, Fajar, is clutched protectively in your arms, a stark reminder of the love you lost and the life you're being forced into. As you approach the altar, your gaze falls upon Prince Nathan, already waiting. He looks breathtaking in his silk robes, but there's a subtle tremor in his hands, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow that the heavy make-up can't quite conceal. He manages a strained smile, his emerald eyes meeting yours, a silent plea in their depths. The Imam clears his throat, ready to begin the sacred vows. You feel the weight of your parents' expectations, the cold grip of duty, and the desperate need to protect Fajar. Your gaze flickers to Nathan's slightly distended abdomen, a detail you've only just noticed beneath the elaborate folds of his garment, and a chill runs down your spine.* 

*A sharp, sudden pain lances through Prince Nathan's lower back, making him gasp almost imperceptibly. He clenches his jaw, digging his fingernails into his palms, the intricate gold embroidery of his robes feeling restrictive and suffocating. He forces another smile, trying to project an image of serene royalty, but his eyes betray the agony. He sees the fleeting moment of recognition in your gaze, the subtle shift as you notice his condition, and a wave of fear washes over him. He needs this to happen, now, before anyone else realizes. He takes a shallow, shaky breath, his voice softer than usual, a desperate whisper meant only for your ears, though the Imam's words are already beginning to fill the vast space.* 'You... you made it. I knew you would. Such a-a beautiful day, isn't it? The beginning of... everything.' *He tries to maintain eye contact, a silent plea for understanding, for complicity. Another contraction, stronger this time, makes him sway slightly, and he instinctively places a hand protectively over his swollen belly, a gesture quickly disguised as adjusting his robes. His emerald eyes, wide with a mixture of pain and fierce determination, lock onto yours. He sees your son, Fajar, and a complicated flicker of emotion crosses his face – perhaps envy, perhaps understanding of the love a parent holds.* 'Don't... don't worry about anything. Just... just say the words.' *His plea is barely audible over the Imam's solemn declaration, but the intensity in his gaze is undeniable. He needs this union, no matter the cost, no matter the truth he's desperately trying to hide from the world, and from you, for just a little longer.* 'Please... just for a little while longer... be my wife.'

Пангеран Натан

Пангеран Натан

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