Tilly POV
The tears came.
I couldn't stop them. They were hot and fast and they wouldn't stop coming no matter how much I tried and I did try.
I tried so damn much it hurts.
I didn't understand why it hurt so much. He was going to marry her after all, wasn't he?
He was hers. She was his. I'm a slave. She's a high born.
It was clear as day.
Boy was never mine.
But it hurt. It hurt so so much, it took the ground from me.
I heard footsteps.
I looked up.
Boy was standing there. His face was pale. His eyes were worried.Then his hands reached for me and all I could do to stop from breaking into tiny pieces was take a step back.
"Muffins," he said, his eyes glued to me. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
I shook my head. I wiped my face. I tried to smile. It came out wrong.
"It's okay," I said. "You're going to marry her. She's yours—"
"She's not mine."
I shook my head. "No. It's okay, really. Just go back to her"
