Episode 5: The Fire Beneath Her Smile

Lilith lust

hii my cute little red flag 💜

Here’s Episode 5 — directly connected to Episode 4. The tension grows. The triangle gets sharper. And Alara… she’s not innocent anymore.

Exactly 600 words of dark romance, betrayal, and twisted hearts.

Episode 5: The Fire Beneath Her Smile

Word Count: 600

Alara doesn’t cry.

Not when she runs through the marble halls barefoot.

Not when the guards bow, confused by the storm in her eyes.

Not when she locks her bedroom door and stares at herself in the mirror.

She just… breathes. In and out. Slowly. Controlled. Like she’s learning how to be someone new.

Like she’s burning the soft version of herself alive.

Her fingers curl into fists.

She loved him.

She trusted me.

And we both destroyed her.

Meanwhile, I stand in the hallway, the cracked mirror still cooling behind me. My lips still taste like Azaan. My pulse is still erratic. Not from regret.

From the power.

But it isn’t clean. It’s messy. Sticky. Heavy.

Because Alara saw everything — and for the first time, I’m not sure she’ll forgive me.

Footsteps echo behind me.

“Zainab,” Azaan calls, his voice rough. “Wait.”

I turn, still composed. “Didn’t get enough?”

He slows. “I didn’t mean for her to see.”

“She was meant to. She needed to.”

He stops, studying me. “That wasn’t revenge in that kiss. That was real.”

I look away. “Real doesn’t matter. She was always going to choose light. And I? I’m the shadow.”

Azaan steps closer. “But I didn’t kiss her.”

“And now you’ve kissed me twice.”

His hand brushes mine, fingers barely touching. “Do it again. This time, without guilt.”

I pull away.

“We don’t get to want,” I whisper. “We get to win. Or lose.”

And I’m not ready to lose yet.

Alara watches the rain fall outside her window. The sky weeps for her. But she doesn’t cry.

Instead, she opens the hidden drawer in her vanity — the one I thought she never knew about.

Inside: a single letter.

Old. Folded. Unsent.

It’s from me.

Alara,

He kissed me before he kissed you.

But I let you have him anyway.

Because you smiled. Because you needed something beautiful.

I gave you that. Now I want it back.

She reads it once. Twice.

Then she smiles.

But it’s not the sweet smile she wore as a girl.

It’s the kind that could cut glass.

Later that night, at the moonlit banquet, the court celebrates a pointless victory. Golden goblets. Strings playing in corners. Laughter like knives.

I wear red velvet. Azaan wears black and silver. We don’t speak. But the air between us is thick.

Then—

Alara enters.

Wearing white.

Looking like a ghost reborn as a queen.

She walks straight to Azaan. Smiles up at him.

“Would you dance with me, my prince?”

His eyes flick to me.

I give the slightest nod.

Let him go.

He takes her hand.

As they dance, the court watches — dazzled. Delighted.

But I see it.

The way her fingers dig into his shoulder.

The way she leans close to whisper something sharp.

The way she looks at me, not him.

Her smile is poison.

And I know now — I didn’t destroy her.

I woke her up.

After the dance, she approaches me.

“Beautiful dress,” she says sweetly.

“You wore white,” I reply. “How ironic.”

She leans in, whispering so only I can hear.

“I’m not going to cry over him, Zainab.”

I smirk. “Good. He’s not worth it.”

Her voice hardens. “But you? You broke the wrong heart.”

And for the first time, I feel it.

Not guilt.

Not fear.

But the thrill of an enemy worth fighting.

end

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