The Mind-Reading Mate Why Is the Lycan King So Obsessed With Me novel Chapter 253

Chapter 253: The Things We Don’t Forget

Wasn’t he supposed to be a honey badger?

Why would someone like him even waste his time talking to a bunch of skunks?

But Primrose figured that wasn’t the most important question right now.

"If I had been there," Salem finally said, his voice low but steady, "maybe you wouldn’t have had to go through that awful experience."

He looked her straight in the eyes, and for once, there was no teasing, no sarcasm. "I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I should’ve been by your side."

Primrose held her breath. She could hear the sincerity in his voice, see the guilt written across his usually smug expression.

Salem wasn’t pretending. He wasn’t saying those words to save face or play the part of a loyal knight.

He genuinely meant it.

For the first time, it felt like she truly mattered to him, not just as a business partner, but as someone he genuinely cared about.

But hadn’t he once said they weren’t even friends?

Did she really have to go through something that horrible just to earn a friend like him?

And yet, as she thought about it more, Primrose realized Salem had never been completely heartless toward her.

Sure, he acted cold. He said things that made him seem detached, like he didn’t care, but when it really mattered, especially when she asked him directly, he always helped her.

More than that, if he hadn’t told Edmund where to find her, her husband might not have arrived in time.

So maybe ... maybe Salem had already seen her as a friend, even if he’d never admit it. Because if he truly didn’t care, he wouldn’t be standing here full of regret.

He wouldn’t look so sad, and he definitely wouldn’t be looking at her the way he is now, like what happened to her had left a scar on him too.

"It’s alright," Primrose said softly, finally offering him a small, fragile smile. "Don’t worry about it."

Just like that, the bitterness she’d been carrying for so long—the frustration, the anger, the disappointment—it all melted the moment she saw his sincerity. "He didn’t ... get the chance to do anything like that, so ..." She swallowed. "I’m fine."

Salem lowered his gaze. His eyes drifted to her trembling hands as she mentioned her dark experience.

When she noticed, she quickly balled her hands into fists and tucked them under the pillow, as if hiding the shaking would hide the memory too.

"That kind of thing ..." Salem said quietly, almost a whisper, "isn’t something you just forget."

"People love saying stuff like, ’It’s in the past, just move on,’ or, ’Maybe it was a test from the gods.’ Or worse ..." His voice darkened. "Some asshole might say, ’It was your fault. If you had fought harder, maybe it wouldn’t have happened.’"

"But if anyone ever says that to you ..." His tone grew sharper, more serious. "Punch them. Or better yet, poison them."

Primrose blinked, unsure if she heard him right.

Salem tilted his head, completely serious. "Don’t worry. I can make an undetectable poison just for you."

She stared at him, unsure if he was joking or being completely serious.

But then she saw the slight curve of his lips. It wasn’t quite a smirk, but it wasn’t a full smile either. It was that rare expression Salem wore when he meant every word, somewhere between deadly serious and strangely comforting.

"I’m not saying you should kill anyone," he added casually with a shrug. "Just ... remember, no one has the right to make you feel like it was your fault. Ever."

Primrose lowered her gaze, her heart tightening.

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