It has been two weeks since I received my results and acceptance letter. I was so excited, and since then, everything has happened so fast — faster than I could even blink. One moment I was screaming happily over my acceptance letters, and the next, Mom was running around like a full-time superhero. She has been so busy getting money for my school fees and finding a place for me to stay in Oxford. We even went there to register, paid my acceptance fee, and got my resumption date — it's in September. She handled the payments, the accommodation, and every tiny detail so I could start my new life at Oxford University — the very place where her own love story once began. Everything was finally ready. Everything, except my heart.
I had one week before school started, and I made all the necessary preparations before the week ran out. I'm a fresher, and I'll be studying English Literature. It's a dream come true for both me and my mom. She was so proud, and I know that if Dad were around, he would've felt the same — but I try not to think about him too much. He hurt and mistreated my mom badly.
When the week ended, I was officially ready for school. Mom made sure I packed everything — both the things I needed and the things I didn't — claiming they might come in handy someday. I packed clothes, books, snacks, and way too many "just in case" items Mom insisted on.
"You never know when you'll need an extra sweater, an emergency umbrella, ten notebooks, and three bottles of hair conditioner," she said.
"Moooom," I groaned — but secretly, I loved how much she cared.
Saturday evening arrived like a knock on destiny's door. My suitcase was zipped, my passport tucked safely away, and my dreams almost too big to fit into the cab that pulled up outside. I was set to leave that night so I could arrive on Sunday. Mom had called a cab to take me to the airport, and just three minutes later, it honked from outside our house.
We loaded my luggage into the trunk, heart pounding with excitement and nerves, and we headed off. The airport was crowded when we arrived, full of goodbyes, hellos, buzzing with people headed toward their own adventures and futures. Mom and I hugged tightly — both of us pretending not to cry, even though we were holding on like we never wanted to let go.
"I will miss you too much, Ninu. I love you, my angel. Take good care of yourself, okay? And don't fall prey to bad things. And live a little! Maybe even get a boyfriend? She attempted a smile but her eyes betrayed her. Call me when you get to Oxford. I love you," she said.
"Mom!" I gasped. "No boy drama. I already retired from romance, remember? I love you too."
"Oh honey, you'll figure it out. I miss you already and you're still here. What if you go off and achieve your dreams and never come back? Oh my goodness, I'll be all alone," she said dramatically. She sniffed loudly for extra effect. "You'll go off and be successful and then forget your poor mother — I'll die alone with twenty cats."
"Mom, please, you're too dramatic. I'm just going to Oxford — I'll come back, okay? Drama queen," I replied, and we both laughed.
I smiled through the tears. "Not happening. I'll always come back to you."
Then the announcement came: "Flight to London now boarding."
"Have you taken everything- your visa and passport?" she asked.
"Yes, Mom. I'll miss you already, and I'll call you every day, I promise," I replied.
"You better," she said.
I hugged her even tighter, knowing this was the moment everything in my life was about to change. My heart dropped — this was it. We hugged one last time, the kind of hug that feels like home — and I said goodbye.
I completed all the formalities, checked in with my visa and passport, and got a window seat — I love watching the clouds. I waved goodbye to Mom, and she waved back before disappearing into the crowd. My heart squeezed painfully as I stepped into the airport. This was really happening.
Mom had already left, and I kept thinking about the last few days with her. I knew I was going to miss her a lot. I tried to distract myself by thinking about college — the fun parts, the stressful parts, all the new faces and fresh starts. I believed I could take care of myself, though I was nervous about meeting new people, making friends, and keeping up with lectures. It was going to be quite the adventure.
Then came the announcement. The pilot said we were taking off immediately, and my stomach did a tiny flip — excitement, fear, maybe both. I boarded the plane, took my beloved window seat, and watched the clouds slowly swallow up everything I knew. My chest felt heavy and light at the same time.
As I settled in, a cute guy came and sat beside me — tall, broad shoulders, soft smile. The kind of guy who looks like his hair always behaves. He smiled politely, and I tried not to stare like a hungry squirrel. Wow. Oxford might be interesting already.
I buckled my seatbelt, pretending I wasn't suddenly shy. The plane began to move, speeding up until the ground vanished beneath us. I looked out the window, whispering a quiet goodbye to the life I was leaving behind. And before I knew it, somewhere over the ocean — while dreaming of new beginnings, new faces, and maybe new love — I fell asleep.
Somewhere over the ocean, I woke up to a soft tap on my shoulder.
"Hey…sorry," a warm voice whispered. "You were leaning on me a little."
My eyes flew open and oh no, my cheek was firmly planted on Cute Guy's shoulder. Instant panic.
"I— I'm so sorry!" I sat up straight like a startled pigeon. "I didn't mean to invade your shoulder space."
He chuckled — a low, nice chuckle that should honestly be illegal.
"It's totally fine," he said. "I didn't mind."
His British accent? An immediate problem for my heart. Up close, he looked even more like a walking rom-com lead — soft brown hair, hazel eyes, and dimples. DIM. PLES.
"I'm Noah," he added, offering his hand.
"Felicity," I replied, shaking it. My palm instantly got sweaty. Ugh, betrayal.
"So, Felicity," Noah smiled, "first time to England?"
I nodded. "Yeah. I'm starting school at Oxford."
His eyebrows lifted. "No way. Me too."
Of course. Fate was doing the MOST. We talked about majors, flights, awkward fears (his: birds; mine: failing spectacularly in public), and we laughed like we'd known each other forever. By the time the plane descended, it felt like the universe had placed me right next to the start of something interesting. When we landed, he helped me get my suitcase down.
"Maybe I'll see you on campus?" he asked.
"Maybe," I said — pretending to be cool, but my heart was throwing a parade.
We parted ways at the airport exit, and I refused to look back because if I did, I might start believing in destiny. Arrival in England on Sunday morning. Cold air. British accents everywhere. I officially wasn't in California anymore.
A cab took me straight to Oxford — crisp stone buildings, grand halls, the smell of history hanging in the air. I received my accommodation key, checked in, and stepped into the room that would be my home for the next four years. I unpacked, freshened up, stared nervously at my textbooks, and got my books ready for the next day. The first term would start with an induction, and I was so excited.
After settling in, I ate a quick meal and called Mom. We talked about everything and nothing — and we already missed each other so much. When the call ended, the silence felt louder than expected. I hugged my pillow tight, like it could protect me from the unknown. One week is Induction. Tomorrow, everything will change.
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Meanwhile… in England.
My name is Christopher Daniel Blake — Prince of England, United Kingdom. Future king. You can clap later. If you asked the world, I'm privileged. If you asked me? I'd call it complicated. My parents — King Grayson Caleb Blake and Queen Aurora Grace Blake — had countries to rule, so my nanny raised me more than they ever did. I love them, truly, but they were always unavailable, and I grew up craving freedom like oxygen.
I'm the eldest of three siblings: Princess Penelope Ava Blake, and the twins — Prince Nathan Charles and Princess Isla Willow Blake. As the firstborn, the crown is my destiny, whether I want it or not. With the crown waiting for me, every step I take is watched, judged, and controlled. But I'm a carefree, rule-breaking kind of guy who believes you learn from your mistakes
but according to my father, royals aren't allowed to make them.
Last year, I entered Oxford University to study English Literature — not exactly my dream, but someone decided it should be. With all the pressure from my father, the palace, and expectations stacked against me, I failed my exams. Embarrassing? Maybe. But mostly exhausting. So now I'm back, retaking everything and trying to survive another year while pretending I'm just a normal student — even though everyone knows I'm not.
My father has a completely different vision for me. He says I'm a spoiled brat because Mother gave me whatever I wanted. He wants me to be a leader, to follow the rules, and to embrace my duty. He reminds me constantly that I'll be King one day. He told me I was a disgrace. He told me I'd never be ready. He told my siblings to stay away from me. Because of all this tension — my failure, his anger, and the endless expectations — I moved out. I didn't want any distractions, especially from him.
When I left, I left the palace behind. Traded marble walls for a tiny rented room near campus. My father cut ties with me. Worse still, he told my siblings not to contact me. But I still speak to my mother sometimes — quietly, carefully. I found a place to stay near Oxford, where there are no rules, no duty — I'm free as a bird. I wanted to study Medicine. A real future helping people. But Father wanted a prince polished for the crown.
Back in high school, I had a crush on a girl named Mia Harrison. We dated for a few months, but it didn't work out. Maybe that was for the best. Now, I work at a café to earn some money and help others financially. No one knows I'm a Prince, and I'd very much like to keep it that way — except Jake, my best friend since middle school. He knows everything about me and has met my family. We do everything together.
Now it's just me and Jake — my best friend since forever — the only one who actually knows the real me. The me who works in a café. The me who doesn't care about crowns or palaces or gold-lined expectations.
A new year is starting. New classes. New mistakes to make. And for once… I feel free. I'm currently studying English Literature, even though I really want to study Medicine. But of course, my father insisted I take Literature instead. Royal duties, royal decisions, royal disappointments.
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Two people. Two different worlds. Both heading toward Oxford. Both about to collide. But neither of them knows that yet.