I added a cover image for this story, but IDK what I think yet. I think Maxon looks too much like Edward Cullen. I may change it, but that's the picture for now.

Thanks for reading!

-CL

"I'm never going to finish this," I groan, blowing a strand of hair out of my vision. I throw down the proposal and stand up, pacing the room. I pull my hair into a high topknot, blowing out a breath. "Just breathe, Bella," I murmur to myself. "Just breathe." I look at the pile on my desk again, causing tears to form in my eyes. I try to keep it out of my mind, but the fight that I had with Father before I entered the Selection comes to mind.

"There's no way you will be able to run a country. You can hardly think properly," Father says, gesturing with his hands. I made him angry bringing up the Selection. "You're not smart enough to make the prince fall in love with you, let alone run a country if you are somehow chosen. Which you won't be."

"But Father," I say, ignoring his insult, "I want to do it." I inwardly cringe, knowing that my speaking up angered him more.

"Too. Bad," he bites out. "That's enough. Get lost, Bella, or otherwise expect my hand."

I scurry away, not wanting to face his hand's wrath. The bruise I already have is just starting to fade. I'm going to sign up for the Selection if Father likes it or not. I'm a grown woman.

I pull myself out of the memory, trying to get the insult to fade. Ever since Maxon and I fought, I haven't been able to do my job-being the queen of Illéa. There are too many memories attached to it, too many thoughts of Maxon. Hence the fact that the paperwork keeps on piling up on my desk, the papers almost as tall as me when I'm seated.

I take a deep breath and sit down again at my desk, picking back up the proposal. I try to read it over again, but I don't understand it. I'm so tempted to tear it to shreds or throw it in the fire or-

"Bella, I need you to look at this proposal," Maxon announces, waltzing into my office.

The other issue with my office is Maxon's is connected to mine, all but a door keeping us apart. He didn't even bother to knock on said door.

I look at him, tears threatening to spill over in frustration or sadness, I don't know. I quickly realize my mistake, turning my head so he can't see the tears. I try to harden myself, not wanting Maxon to see me weak. "Bella?" Maxon asks harshly. He must think I'm ignoring him. Not that I blame him.

I take a deep breath and turn to face him again. "Bella, my dear, what's the matter?" Maxon says, his face and voice softening. He places the proposal on the stack before facing me, his hands in his pockets. "Talk to me, my dear."

I shake my head and stand. "I'm-I can't do this, Maxon," I say, a sob breaking my resolve. "I'm not smart enough to be Queen. I don't know why I ever thought I was."

At this I break, my tears flowing freely. Maxon hugs me, having me rest my face on his chest. I loop my arms around his neck and sob into his shirt. "I'm-I'm not-smart e-nough," I say between sobs.

Maxon gently picks me up, cradling me by my ass, and places my legs around his thighs. He sets me down on the desk, moving papers out of the way. I can't stop thinking about how stupid I am, especially thinking I can run a country. Maxon's fingers trace my jaw until he stops at my chin, gently lifting my eyes to meet his. "Bella, my dear, you can run a country."

I shake my head. "No, I can't. I'm so stupid. I'm a fucking moron," I say, belittling myself.

Maxon's eyes harden. "No," he says, his tone gentle but with finality. "You're an intelligent-no, brilliant-young woman. You are my wife. You are brilliant, and I love you for it," he says, looking me in the eyes. "Don't ever say you're anything but."

Tears form in my eyes again, but this time it's from Maxon's kind words. I can't remember the last time someone called smart, let alone intelligent or brilliant. "Thank you, Maxon," I whisper, looking him straight on. "You don't know how much that means to me."

Maxon's eyes soften again. "Oh, Bella, I'm so sorry you were treated like that," he murmurs. "I'm sorry about what I did to you, Bella. I never wanted you to feel threatened or trapped. I just…"

"I know, Maxon," I say with a small smile. The tears are starting to fade. "It's not your fault for what you went through. That shaped you, but you've tried so hard to resist, and I appreciate that," I say. I take a deep breath. "I'm sorry, too. I overreacted," I whisper. "I love you, Maxon, and I hope I never lose you." With this, I kiss Maxon on his lips, gently probing his lips with my tongue.

Maxon stiffens, not expecting the kiss, but soon leans into my touch and opens his lips, his tongue touching mine. I pull away before I get too carried away. "Bella, I'm sorry-"

I shake my head and smile shyly. "Don't be. I'm ready to allow you to love me again, but I need a little bit more time. I promise. I just need to do something before we proceed." I trace Maxon's jaw, my touch feather-light. "I love you, Maxon Schreave, and I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise."

"Oh, my dear," Maxon says, smiling softly. "I love you, too." He places his hand on my cheek, cradling it. "I never thought anything other."

I sigh contently like a big weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I hop down from the desk, a smile on my face. Maxon kisses my nose before pulling away and grabbing the proposal. At the sight of it, my stomach drops. "Maxon-I-"

"I'm here, my dear. I'm going to help you get through this," he says, taking off his suit jacket. He rolls up his sleeves and brings a chair next to mine, sitting down next to me. He grabs the proposal, explaining it to me in words I can understand. "Here they're asking for more money to provide food…" And he helps through the whole pile, not leaving until it's done.