"Jade? What are you doing here?" a voice asks.

I look up at the familiar face. Sinagtala. He is kneeling before me. He brushes the hair from my face and peers into my eyes. I throw myself at him, not giving him the chance to ask why I am crying. When he hugs me, I bury my face into his chest, breathing in the familiar scent. Yet, my shivering doesn't stop.

"You should change your clothes. You're wet," he says.

"I'm sorry," I cry.

"Sorry about what?"

"About why I am here, why I approach you at the feast, and even about the floor," I cry again. "But, I can't tell you anything, because even I am confused about why I end up here," I wail.

There's a pause then he pats my head. "Jade, stop crying."

I look up at him, startled at his reaction to my revelation. "You forgive me?"

"Only if you wipe your tears," he says and lifts my chin.

His forgiveness is too easy, but I am not the one to test his patience so I hurriedly wipe my tears. "Am I unsightly?"

"You're certain you want to hear the answer to that?"

I pout, even so, I brush my hair with my hands and did everything to salvage whatever I can. Then I look back at him. "Better now?" I ask.

He looks me over and smiles, "Yes, but you still need to change."

"I don't want to leave."

"Who says something about you leaving? You can use my clothes, or you can wrap a blanket around your body. But that would certainly tempt me," he warns.

"I would love that," I say, and in a softer voice I add, "I want you to make love to me."

His smile vanishes and looks as if he's weighing down his options. I hate it when he's being indecisive about us. Is it a hasty request? Impulsive? But we've been making out for weeks, surely he expected this? I can still recall when he said he won't take virgins. Is it still the same? Is it why he's hesitating? Because being a virgin is a condition too taxing to rectify?

Then he pushes at my shoulders. I feel a pinch on my chest that I unconsciously hold on to his shirt.

"Please?" I plead. He just stares at me. "You don't want me?"

There's still reluctance in his face. I just came here for comfort, maybe I should have just asked for that? I should have not taken the next step to our relationship, especially when I know that I am just his temporary woman.

He's about to stand up when I feel cold. Panic rises and I realize I'm not ready for him to get tired of me. Not yet. If he is hesitating, then I will entice him to the point he realizes that he wants this too. So, my hand goes under his shirt and touches his stomach. I start to take his shirt off as my hands glide on his stomach up to his chest. His skin is hot, and he shivers at each of my movements.

Suddenly, he removes my hand from under his shirt and says, "No. Stop."

His eyes are on me as if boring a hole in my face. I stare back and withdraw my hands. Then I glide it along his arms, up to his shoulder. I move closer to him and I can feel him tremble at my nearness. I can see the desire in his eyes but why is he hesitating? Is this part of his play?

"Jade... Seriously, you need to stop," he whispers and moves away from me.

He stands up and turns away from me. His back is on me and yet, I know that he is massaging his head. And I stay on the floor. I can sense he lusts after me as much as I crave for him, so why does he wants to make out, but not take a step further?

Or am I wrong? Instead of desire, is he actually disgusted at me? Is it because I am being too forward? Or is it because right now, I am too unsightly to be wanted?

I want to know so I ask, "I am offering myself to you and you are rejecting me again."

I stand up and face him. He is distressed and I am close to tears because of his rejection, but I didn't dare to avert my eyes from him. I want to know why he's being contradictory. I won't be blind this time. He won't push me away from his room without knowing the reason why. He will tell, or he can just call all the warriors and sandigs to let me out of his room.

"Tell me. I want to know why."

He clenches his jaw but didn't answer. He just looks down at me.

"I won't ask you to marry me. I know I am not fit to be your wife," I add. "So while I can, I want to enjoy this time with you. Is that something I should not ask from you?"

Unexpectedly, he pats my head and inches away from me, but I cling to his hand. I won't give him the chance to walk away without me understanding.

Finally, he faces me, but before responding he takes a deep breath. "Jade, I know that. We are both clear that ours is only of a few make-out sessions. So if you ask me for something more, I will disappoint you. I am just teasing you when I make you feel as if I want us to be more than we currently are."

Just as I thought. I never felt as deflated as before. I feel like I just want to sit on the floor and stay there forever doing nothing. I feel exhausted. The longing, the craving, the desire, whatever it's called suddenly vanished. I have always expected it but I am not ready. Still, I know I cannot lust after a man who does not want me, so I let go of his hand.

This ends now. Does it mean I need to search elsewhere to help me move on from Renz? No, it's not really what I wanted. This fatigue and weariness, it's different from how Renz makes me feel. Every time Renz hurts me, I feel the need to look for comfort from someone else. But every time Sinagtala rejects me, I go deeper than I was before. With his rejection, I don't need comfort from anyone. Every time he makes me feel like this, I just want to leave, but I always don't have the energy to move. Somehow, I prefer Renz to hurt me than Sinagtala. At least, the emotions I feel for Renz can be easily fixed by another man's warmth.

And now, I look for words to end this, to walk away from this, as elegantly as possible, so I stare at the floor, searching for the right words. I couldn't. All I can do is stare blankly at nothing.

Then Sinagtala touches my chin and lifts my face. Then in a playful voice, he says. "You didn't actually think that a Rajah would take a nameless wench like you in his bed?"

I flinch, and a searing pain strikes me. My heart constricts, and the pain reaches up to my throat, down to the ends of my fingers, as if electricity travels from my chest to everywhere it can reach. I inhale but it stops at my throat. When I see the surprise on his face, I remove his hand and look away.

I need to step away, to leave, but I feel frozen in the spot. Why am I feeling this way? I don't love this man. From the very start, his rejection should only hurt my pride. It's been always like this. Every time I assume that I am a little bit important to someone, the truth will kick me right in the face.