Page 8 of Galactic Sentinels, Vol. 1 (Chronicles of Pherebos #1)

And when I think about it… maybe this isn’t so different from what women have faced for generations.

My biological mother and my adoptive mother were both of Indian descent.

In their culture—and in many others on old Earth—marriages were arranged.

Love wasn’t always part of the equation.

We saw it in the films Prianka loved to watch.

Stories of women who made peace with duty. Who found strength in sacrifice.

Maybe I can do the same.

On Earth, in so many civilizations, alliances were forged not out of love, but necessity—practical, financial, political. Marriage was often a transaction, not a romance. I’ve seen it in the history files, in the documentaries Prianka loved, in the old films she made me watch over and over.

Of course, I would’ve preferred something else. A choice made freely. A connection built on affection, not obligation. But I don’t have that luxury. I have three days to decide.

Except… I already have.

The truth is, the decision was made the moment Henri laid out the terms. I can’t let Prianka suffer. I won’t let her die—not when there’s still a way to keep her alive. Even if that way costs me something I can never get back.

I’ll go to Jaga-18. I’ll play the role he wants. I’ll endure whatever I have to. Because Prianka is worth it.

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll find a way to reclaim something of myself along the way.

Ileana, fourteen weeks later.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

Prianka shrugs and smooths the plaid blanket over her knees.

“Yeah. I’d rather sit here in the quiet and enjoy my last evening here. If you don’t mind.”

Of course I mind. If I had any choice, I’d stay with her. But I don’t. Tonight’s the farewell ceremony for Henri and his successor. Tomorrow, we leave for Jaga-18. Henri’s stepping down as administrator of BN-35 to become governor of the new terraformed colony.

He’s shown us videos of Jaga-18—our future home. Everything looks clean, orderly, promising. As the governor’s household, we’ll have a privileged position. Henri even arranged for a private space, set apart from the others, because he knows how much Prianka and I value peace and quiet.

Jaga-18, like all terraformed worlds, is a small planet that had the right conditions for life—just not the time or luck to develop it naturally.

The Intergalactic Confederation stepped in with their technology.

Gravity generators hold the atmosphere and water in place.

They’re still reinforcing the ozone layer.

From what I understand, they created the basic conditions for life, then waited a few months before introducing seeds and pollinating insects.

It’s all still new. There’s a lot of work to be done. Henri said I could manage a vegetable garden near Prianka’s room so I’d always be close if she needed me. It sounds… peaceful. Almost ideal.

Almost.

Jaga-18 is pretty new, and there's a lot to do on it. Henri said I could take care of a vegetable garden near Prianka's room so I'd be close to her if I needed to. Sounds perfect!

On the other hand, he's no longer letting me share my sister's room. He said that even though he let me stay with her for the last three months on BN-35, on Jaga, I'd have to share his bed every day .

I'm a little anxious about that. The day after he popped the question, he took me to his place and made our relationship a reality.

It wasn't as bad as it was made out to be.

It wasn't super pleasant, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be.

Neither that first time nor the few others that followed.

I'm a little afraid of sharing his bed on a daily basis, though.

I'm worried he'll start making more demands.

But I'll do what needs to be done. I'm not afraid of a little pain!

I finish the intricate braid that keeps my long hair in check and take a deep breath.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. But don’t worry—I’ll be back as soon as I can. I don’t plan on staying long.”

Prianka gives me a small smile and adjusts the plaid blanket over her knees.

“Oh, that’s all right. You have the right to enjoy your evening—and the celebration in Henri’s honor!

” she winks. “I can manage one evening on my own, you know. I’m planning to go through all those videos Henri gave us about Jaga-18.

Can you believe it? I’m going to see a forest from my room. Real trees!”

I can’t help but smile. She’s so excited, so full of wonder. She keeps talking about where we’re going to live, imagining every detail. It’s going to be a completely different world from the sterile corridors of the base—the only home we’ve ever known.

Seeing her like this, so hopeful, makes everything feel worth it. Every sacrifice. Every compromise. If she can find joy in what’s ahead, then maybe I can too .

Of course, she knows nothing about the deal I made with the future governor.

Like so many others, she sees only what he wants them to see—a man of integrity, smitten with a younger woman, offering her a life of comfort and protection. She believes I was won over by his refined manners, his quiet strength, his so-called devotion.

Let her believe that.

I won’t shatter her illusion with the messy truth. She doesn’t need to know the cost of her new life. Not when she’s finally excited about something. Not when she’s dreaming about forests outside her window and real trees swaying in the wind.

If protecting that dream means carrying the weight of the truth alone, so be it.

“Ileana, are you ready, my darling?” Henri calls out as he steps into our cabin without knocking.

That’s another thing that grates on me. For the past three months, he’s acted like this place belongs to him—like my agreement gave him the right to come and go as he pleases. It didn’t.

I swallow my irritation and force a smile.

“I’m ready. I’ll follow you.”

He turns to Prianka, his expression softening into that familiar, practiced warmth.

“Prianka, are you joining us?”

“Good evening, Henri,” she replies politely. “I’m a little tired. I’d rather stay and rest, if you don’t mind. Besides, you’ll probably have more fun without me. ”

Immediately, his face shifts into a mask of concern—compassionate, attentive, just the right amount of worry. He kneels beside her and takes her hands gently in his.

“Prianka, you’re never a burden to us. Never. If that’s why you don’t want to come, you’re mistaken. You are our little joy—mine and Ileana’s.”

I watch the scene unfold, knowing exactly how convincing he can be. To Prianka, he’s the kind, generous man who swept her sister off her feet. And I won’t be the one to break that illusion.

As always, my sister falls under his charm the moment he turns on that gentle, brotherly warmth. It works every time. Who could doubt his sincerity when he kneels beside her, all concern and kindness?

But I know better.

And as long as Prianka suspects nothing, I’ll keep playing along. She must never know what it really costs me.

“I’m really disappointed you’re not joining us,” Henri says with a theatrical sigh. “I would’ve made sure you weren’t alone—and that you had a wonderful evening with us.”

Oh, I don’t doubt that for a second. I’ve seen how much he enjoys putting on a show—how he loves to be seen as the kind, attentive man who goes out of his way for others. Walking around the base with my disabled sister on his arm only adds to his image: the humble, generous leader.

What a performance .

Now that I know him intimately, I’m no longer fooled by the polished exterior.

Everything about him is calculated. But he’s not cruel.

Just clever. Strategic. He’s chosen two women who serve his image well—me, the beautiful orphan he “rescued,” as he likes to remind me, and Prianka, the fragile sister who makes him look like a hero.

I can live with that. For her.

So I swallow my resentment and paste on a smile.

“Let’s go, Henri.” I turn to Prianka. “Get those videos ready for us—our future home! I’ll be back soon and bring you some of those treats you love. See you later, sweetheart.”