The Weight in the Air
I tried to hold my head high.
I tried to wash off the scent of humiliation.
But as I entered the queen’s chambers for the second banquet, I could feel it —
The shift.
The same hall, the same servants, the same golden goblets.
But something in the air had thickened.
Esther’s smile wasn’t sweetness anymore.
It was still. Composed. Measured.
And the king…
His laughter sounded forced.
As if even he knew something was wrong but hadn’t yet asked what.
The Last Supper
The wine flowed, but I barely sipped. My fingers twitched. My mind raced. I should have left. I should have feigned illness. But pride anchored me to the chair like iron.
Then came her voice — quiet, steady, cutting through the room like a blade wrapped in silk:
“If I have found favor in your eyes, O king… grant me my life — and the lives of my people.”
The king straightened. My hands froze mid-air.
She continued.
“For we have been sold, I and my people, to be destroyed, killed, and annihilated…”
Every word was a stone dropped into still water. Rippling outward.
And then he asked it:
“Who is he? Where is the man who dared to do such a thing?”
And Esther turned.
Not with anger. Not with vengeance.
Just truth.
“The adversary and enemy is this vile Haman.”
Everything Stops
I don’t remember breathing.
The world shifted.
The walls pressed inward.
Even the candlelight seemed to flicker in horror.
The king’s face flushed, then drained.
He stood, fists clenched, and left the room.
Not a word.
Just fury.
And I knew.
I knew.
The Final Beg
I turned to her. Not as a noble. Not as a prince. But as a man whose world had collapsed in a single sentence.
I fell to my knees. I begged — not for power, not for dignity — just for my life.
She stepped back. I reached out. Grabbed her gown. The doors burst open. The king returned.
And he saw me — bent over the queen, hands clutching her fabric.
“Will he even assault the queen while she is with me in the house?”
No more questions.
No more trials.
Just a sentence in motion.
The Face Covered
The guards moved like shadows.
Before I could stand, a cloth was thrown over my head.
I heard the silence that falls just before the fall.
Then someone spoke:
“There’s a gallows — fifty cubits high. Built by Haman for Mordecai, who saved the king’s life.”
And the king, in the voice of a man whose wrath has solidified, said:
“Hang him on it.”
