Felicity's POV.
That morning, my head was still spinning with everything Mom had said. Royal. The word kept replaying in my mind, loud and impossible to ignore. It sat heavy in my chest, like a warning I didn't fully understand. Dad. Secrets. A whole world my mother refused to explain. What did she mean when she said he lived a life built on secrets? And why tell me now, when my life already felt like it was falling apart? Nothing made sense anymore. I was already struggling to understand my feelings for Chris, the kiss we shared, and the emotions I didn't know how to control. Adding this new revelation felt cruel, like one more weight placed on my heart already stretched too thin. I felt unsteady, like the ground beneath me had cracked and I was trying not to fall through it.
I got to campus early, hoping the quiet would help me clear my head. The sun was just beginning to rise, washing the empty halls in soft morning light. For a brief moment, I thought I could breathe. That hope disappeared the second I stepped into the lecture room and saw Chris already seated. My heart skipped a beat. I wasn't ready. I didn't have time to prepare or pretend to be cool around him. He looked up and gave me a soft, uncertain smile like he didn't know what mood I was in or how I'd react. I hesitated, then sat beside him anyway. Neither of us spoke. The silence between us felt heavy, full of things neither of us knew how to say.
It was painfully awkward. We both said, "Hi," at the exact same time, followed by stiff, polite smiles that fooled no one. We looked away almost immediately, like strangers pretending we hadn't kissed, cried, or burned for each other in silence. There was no teasing. No warmth. Just tension humming between us. Our arms were close, but we didn't touch. Every small movement felt careful, guarded, as if one wrong move would shatter whatever fragile balance we were clinging to. We stared at our notebooks, our hands, the walls, anything except each other.
Then the door opened and the air shifted. She looked like she just stepped off the cover of Vogue and she walked in like she expected to be noticed: long dark hair, confident steps, radiant skin, perfectly put together. Heads turned. Whispers followed. She scanned the room once, calm and sure, then her eyes landed on us. On Chris. She smiled and walked straight toward us.
"Christopher," she said, her voice warm and polished, her accent clearly not from around here. Hearing his name on her lips sent a cold twist through my stomach.
Chris stood abruptly, shock written all over his face. He looked completely stunned. "Mia? What… what are you doing here?"
She laughed softly, radiant. "I finally transferred. Oxford couldn't keep me away forever… and from you." Her eyes sparkled. "And of course, I missed you."
Before I could process what was happening, she wrapped her arms around him like a scene from a romantic movie. Chris hugged her back—stiff, distracted, not warm—but still, he hugged her. Then she kissed him on the cheek.
My chest tightened. I looked away, jaw clenched. Who is she? And why is she all over Chris? I thought bitterly.
Chris glanced my way, like he'd just remembered I existed. He gently pulled away from Mia, cleared his throat, and gestured toward me.
"Mia, this is Felicity. Felicity—Mia."
Mia turned to me with a warm smile. "Nice to meet you," she said sweetly.
I forced a smile through clenched teeth. "Sure. You too… same here."
Inside, I was fuming. Jealousy curled around my ribs, sharp and unwelcome. My mind spiraled, already inventing dramatic betrayals. Who was she? Why did she know him like that? And why did my heart feel like it had just been punched?
Before I could spiral any further, our phonetics lecturer, Mr. Morgan, walked in. He adjusted his glasses and clapped once to get our attention.
"Alright class, excellent work on last week's performance" he nodded. "You all did well."
Everyone sat up straighter
"But four students stood out. Felicity and Penelope. Christopher and Joshua. Your delivery was exceptional. I'd like both pairs to come up and recite your poem lines from last week."
My heart skipped. 'Wait. What?'
Chris and I exchanged a look. A spark flickered of surprise, nerves, and something deeper. We rose from our seats and walked to the front of the class. Our shoulders brushed, and for a brief moment, that familiar spark flickered between us—undeniable.
"Ladies first," Chris said softly.
Penelope and I stepped forward. I took a deep breath. My voice shook at first, then steadied.
"Penelope and I wrote a poem called The Maybe Between Us."
—
"The Maybe Between Us" by Felicity & Penelope.
Love is not gentle when it lives in me. It's wild, it's want, it's lightning in the rain. A touch that trembles, words that bruise and heal. I bloom in chaos, soft and fierce and free. If love must burn, then let it burn through me. I'll rise in ash, and love eternally.
He lingers in the corners of my mind. A thought too loud to leave, too soft to chase. He never says too much. But when he does. I feel a truth I may not want to know.
I tell myself it's kindness, nothing more. A moment, not a meaning. Just a breath.
And yet I catch my heart outside the door,
Following his footsteps—half to life, half death.
I do not know if this is love I feel. But if it isn't—why does it feel so real? I've loved before and look what that love cost. So why does he feel different—yet the same? And why can't I stop whispering his name?
Is it just friendship? Or something much worse? A maybe, a moment… or is it a curse?
I see you in the corner of my thoughts,
like a whisper I never meant to keep. Your smile lingers longer than it should and your name settles softly in my sleep.
But I've stitched armor over old wounds,
built walls from the ache of before. My heart doesn't leap—it flinches now,
when you knock so gently at the door.
You make me want to risk the fall,
but I still remember the crash.
I don't know if it's love or a shadow of something I can't quite grasp.
So I stay here, in the maybe,
half a breath away from you. I'm not sure if I love you. But I'm terrified… that I do."
—
Every word of The Maybe Between Us spilled from places I'd been trying to protect. When we finished, the room went silent for a heartbeat. I looked at Chris, he had been watching me the whole time, smiling, a little confused. Then the silence broke, and the class erupted into applause. Mr. Morgan smiled.
Mr. Morgan exhaled slowly, clearly moved. "Wow," he said softly. "Just… wow. That was exceptional—raw, honest, brave, and deeply human. Emotionally precise in every way. That is what I call true emotional resonance." He smiled. "Now, gentlemen, let's hear from the boys."
Chris and Joshua stepped forward.
"Our poem is titled She Is My Forever."
—
"She is My Forever" by Christopher & Joshua.
Love lives in silence when it lives in me. A steady heat that waits behind the wall,
It's eyes that linger where they should not be, A soul that rises every time I fall.
I crave not ease—I crave what fate forbids. A stolen smile, a touch the world would bid me to forget. But still, I stand, I stay. Her shadow is the light that shapes my day.
If love must ache, then let it ache for her. My vow, my fire, my truth I can't deter. Destiny had other plans. I love her not in ways the world permits. Not in the open, not in golden light. My love is forged in silence where it sits. A shadow sworn to guard her every night.
For nothing else can hold my gaze but she. Her laugh, a flame that sets my soul alight. How every touch I never feel is sin,
And every glance denied is hard to bear.
But if she asked, I'd throw the crown away.
She walks like a verse I never wrote,
yet somehow always knew by heart.
Every glance she gives me
pulls the earth and stars apart.
She doesn't see the way she glows,
how her silence speaks in flame. She doesn't know that I would burn just to whisper her name. They ask me why I love her as if love is something you explain. But how do you define the ocean
to someone who's never touched rain?
She is not perfect—thank goodness for that. She is real. She is raw. She is light.
And even when she pushes me away,
I would choose her every night. Even if she never says she loves me,
even if she never understands. My heart is hers to ruin and to hold within her hands.
Oh my Beloved, when I met you
It changed my whole world, I can't live without you. When I look at you, my heart melts like a thousand pieces.
This secret I hold is killing me.
You're mine and I will make you mine.
Oh my Beloved. My heart still beats for only you."
—
Chris's voice was steady, rich with feeling as he began. Then Joshua. The poem wasn't just spoken, it felt like a confession. Every line seemed written for me. About me. My throat tightened, and my heart began to race.
After the poems, the class fell into a stunned silence before breaking into applause. Even Mia clapped, though I noticed the way her gaze sharpened, lingering on Chris like she was trying to solve a puzzle.
Mr. Morgan nodded slowly, a soft smile touching his lips. "Excellent," he said, his voice calm but full of meaning. "That was thoughtful, layered, and deeply felt. You didn't just perform—you revealed something. That's the true emotional range."
I glanced at Chris, and for a moment, we weren't just classmates with a complicated past—we were something more. As our voices filled the room, something shifted. The awkwardness between Chris and me thinned, replaced by something electric—real chemistry. Even Mia noticed. I caught her watching us, her expression sharp and calculating. I didn't look at her. I didn't need to. I could feel her eyes.
When we finished, the class erupted into applause again. Mr. Morgan grinned. "Now that is how you speak from the heart. Class dismissed. And please welcome our new student, Mia Harrison. See you all next week."
As everyone filed out, the tension between Chris and me remained—undeniable, electric, alive.
>>>>>>>>>>
Christopher's POV.
As we sat back down, I couldn't stop looking at Felicity. She was close enough to touch, yet far enough to feel impossible. Every part of me was unraveling. Everything was slipping—her voice, her poem, the way she looked at me like she was holding back a storm. I was already drowning.
Wait… does that mean she loves me but doesn't know how to say it? How can I leave without her? How do I choose duty over love? What am I supposed to do at this point?
I wish I wasn't a prince. I wish I was just a guy—a regular guy who could fall in love without consequences. It would all be so much easier. I made a stupid, reckless bet: one month to make her fall for me, then break her heart and walk away. But now… I can't even breathe without her. I can't. Not anymore. Because now, I'm the one who's losing.
Her voice jerked me out of my thoughts.
"Helloooo? Where is your head at?" she asked.
"I'm so sorry, what were you saying?" I asked, blinking.
"I said I want to talk to you."
"Rain check, please. I'm in a hurry. I'll talk to you later, okay? Take care of yourself." I kissed her hand before walking away.
Panic surged as I left. I kissed her hand not because I was calm, but because I wasn't and walked away before I shattered completely. I thought I was in control. I thought I could walk away. Now, I couldn't breathe without her.
That evening, I returned to the palace. It had been months since I'd set foot inside. The marble floors gleamed, the chandeliers sparkled, yet everything felt colder than ever. I hesitated at the door, dreading what awaited me. The servants greeted me politely. My siblings hugged me. My mother smiled warmly. But my father… he just stared, then turned toward his study and summoned me. That night, the palace felt heavier, colder. And when he spoke her name—Mia—my stomach dropped.
"Good evening, Father," I said stiffly.
He nodded without looking up. "She's already arrived. Mia and her family will be here shortly. Go upstairs, change, and come greet them properly."
"Who?" I asked, though I already knew.
"Mia Harrison," he said.
I exhaled slowly. "I met her already at Oxford. We talked, and she registered here but I'm not marrying her. My heart belongs to someone else."
His eyes snapped up, fire and ice in one glare. "What did you just say?"
"I said I'm not marrying her," I repeated firmly.
The silence that followed was thunderous. Then slap. His hand cracked across my face, and it burned.
"You will marry Mia. This isn't about your heart. This is about your duty to this family—your responsibility to the crown," he snapped.
I swallowed the burn in my throat. "I never asked for any of this," I whispered.
"You were born into it," he growled. "You don't get to choose. I forgave your childish rebellions before. This time, you will do your duty as crown prince."
I said nothing more. I turned and left the study. As I crossed the hall, I passed the portraits of kings and queens—people who had chosen thrones, power, and duty over love. Their eyes followed me like silent warnings, like reminders of what I was expected to become. But with every step, something inside me settled with brutal clarity. I wasn't going to be like them. No matter what anyone says. No matter what the crown demanded. No matter the consequences. Because my heart, whether the crown liked it or not, was already hers. It already belonged to Felicity. And as I walked away, torn between the crown and her heart, I knew one thing for certain, I would choose her everyday of my life.