I Got Married to a Yandere Queen
Chapter 53 - 52 - An Obsession Ignites

Chapter 53: Chapter 52 - An Obsession Ignites

The wedding procession slowly faded into the distance, leaving behind a trail of flowers scattered across the stone-paved road now lit by the gentle glow of oil lamps. The cheers of the townspeople dwindled into hushed murmurs, then vanished altogether—swallowed by the whisper of the evening wind, which was beginning to turn cold.

The sky had turned a deep violet, and the last light of the sun hung like an unhealed wound on the edge of the horizon.

And yet, amidst all the changing light and sound, Riven and Ashtoria remained still.

Ashtoria was still leaning into his chest, arms wrapped around him tightly, as if the world might tear him away at any moment. Her embrace didn’t loosen—it only grew firmer. Her head rested against him, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat like a song she refused to forget.

Riven stood unmoving, one hand gently on Ashtoria’s back, letting her stay. He didn’t know what to say. Maybe he didn’t need to say anything. Their presence was enough. Even silence held meaning that evening.

But as time passed, discomfort began creeping into his shoulders, trickling down his arms and back. He shifted slightly, trying to ease his stance without disturbing her. Still, Ashtoria did not move.

She was still holding him.

And Riven couldn’t bring himself to let go.

He exhaled softly and glanced to the side, spotting Mira seated on a bench not far from the square. She was resting her chin on her hand, watching them with a look of bored amusement. When their eyes met, Mira raised a single brow—a look that said, "How long is this going to last?"

Riven replied with a small nod and a helpless smile. Mira rolled her eyes and returned to twirling a twig in her fingers, killing time.

Meanwhile, Ashtoria remained silent. But it was not an empty silence.

Her shoulders still trembled faintly. Her breathing was uneven. There was a storm still raging inside her, and Riven could feel it—as if her embrace was the only anchor keeping her from falling apart.

He looked up at the night sky, now scattered with stars, then lowered his gaze again to the blood-red hair draped over his chest. He spoke softly, barely more than a whisper:

"Your Majesty... we should part ways now."

But Ashtoria didn’t move. Her body stayed pressed against his. In fact, if Riven had been more attuned, he might have felt that her grip only tightened, more desperate, more demanding—her body refusing to let go, her soul rebelling against the words just spoken.

Riven took a slow breath and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Your Majesty," he said again, firmer this time. "We have to part now. We both have lives we must return to."

Those words were like a thin blade slipping quietly into her chest. Ashtoria didn’t scream. She didn’t cry. But something inside her tore—slowly, deeply, and agonizingly.

She lowered her gaze. Her arms gradually loosened. The fingers that had clung so tightly to his shirt lost their strength and finally let go... like someone losing their grip on the only thing keeping them alive.

And yet when she lifted her face—so close to his, just inches away—her eyes shimmered, not with tears, but with an emotion too vast for a mortal frame to contain.

"Don’t call me ’Your Majesty,’" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Call me... by my name."

Riven blinked. His eyes shifted, studying the woman who now stood in front of him with a kind of fragile silence that echoed deeper than words.

"Say it," Ashtoria urged again, this time with more firmness, more sincerity—but behind her gaze, something else began to surface. Something intense. Something more than love. A hunger for recognition. A possessive need.

Riven looked away briefly. He didn’t know why, but his heart trembled. Then, after steadying his breath, he spoke softly:

"...Ashtoria."

And when that name left his lips, a jolt like lightning surged through her veins. That voice... that name... from his mouth...

"Say it again," she blurted, almost without thinking.

Riven looked at her, puzzled, but her expression left no room for refusal. In her eyes now, something strange flickered. A blend of joy, pain, and obsession blooming like sweet poison.

"Ashtoria," he said again.

And for her, time stopped.

Her heart raced—too fast. Her face grew warm. Her breath caught. Inside her chest, something erupted. Not just love. But certainty. A terrifying conviction that this man was hers. That there was no world where she could allow him to leave.

Riven lowered his gaze again, chest tightening. And then he said, sincerely:

"It’s best if we part here. Thank you... for treating me and my sister so kindly. I hope one day... we’ll meet again, under better circumstances."

Those words fell on Ashtoria’s heart like cold rain on a blooming flower. Her composed expression shattered. Her usual regal calm cracked from within. Her eyes went blank for a moment—then began to tremble, barely able to contain the turmoil within.

Riven saw it. And something in him stirred. But he knew—if he hesitated now, he would never be able to walk away. So he turned around without waiting for a reply, trying to keep his steps light.

But he had only taken one step when a warm, trembling hand seized his wrist. The movement was quick, almost reflexive, but the emotion in its grip was impossible to ignore.

He stopped, sighed softly, and turned.

There, Ashtoria looked at him with wide, wounded eyes. Her lips trembled.

"I told you..." she said in a broken voice. "Don’t call me Your Majesty. Call me by my name."

Even she was surprised by her own action. But when she saw Riven’s back leaving her... something in her screamed, wild and primal. Her hand had reached out before her mind could think.

Riven stared at her, calm yet confused.

"Ashtoria... what is it? Why did you stop me?"

The question pierced deep. Ashtoria lowered her gaze, afraid to meet his eyes. Inside, another voice whispered: ’I don’t want to part from you. I can’t bear it. I want to keep you. Lock you away. But... would you hate me?’

And then she said softly,

"Why are you in such a hurry to leave...? Do you really not want to be with me that much? Were all the things you just said... just lies?"

Riven froze.

Those words struck him. He felt offended—even hurt. Because Riven had never played with anyone’s feelings, least of all this woman’s.

"Do you really think I lied to you?" he asked, his voice low and firm.

Ashtoria shook her head instantly.

"No... I just... I just want to be with you a little longer."

Her words softened something in him. His emotions began to melt. He looked up at her face, wondering quietly, ’Why is she acting this way?’

Then Ashtoria spoke again, gently,

"I heard... you’re heading to the capital. Your sister mentioned it." She paused, taking a breath, then continued:

"I’m going there too. What if... we traveled together?"

Riven said nothing, processing her offer. But before he could respond, she added:

"If you walk or take a carriage, it’ll take you a week or two. But if you come with me..."

Her gaze locked onto his, soft but unrelenting,

"...you’ll arrive in a single day."

Riven considered her words. His rational mind told him he should say no. That this closeness was starting to cross a strange, dangerous line. But when he looked into her eyes...

...he sensed that even if he refused, she would never let him go.

And perhaps... a small part of him didn’t want to be left behind.

Didn’t want to say no.

At last, with an uneasy breath and a conflicted heart, he said:

"Okay."

A simple word.

But it changed everything.

Ashtoria smiled. Slowly. Softly. But within that smile was something frightening. Something glowing in her calm eyes—like embers finally catching fire.

An obsession that would never go out.