It has been two weeks since I received my 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 excitedly in our living room, and the next, Mom had transformed into a full-time superhero — running errands, sorting documents, arranging my fees, and even finding a place for me to stay in Oxford.
We flew there earlier to register, pay my acceptance fee, and finalize my resumption date — it's in September. Mom handled everything: payments, accommodation, paperwork and every tiny detail needed for me to begin my new life at the same university where her own love story once began. Everything was finally ready. Everything, except my heart.
I had just one week left before school started, and I spent it packing, sorting, re-packing, stressing, and preparing for the biggest chapter of my life. By the time the week ran out, I'd made all the necessary preparations. I was officially a fresher, ready to study English Literature—something Mom and I had dreamed about for years. It truly felt like a dream come true for both of us. Mom was so proud, and I know that if Dad were around, he would've been proud too… but I don't let myself think about him much. He hurt my mom in ways I can never forgive.
When the final week ended, reality hit. I was officially ready for school, and Mom made sure of it—packing everything I needed and plenty of things I didn't, insisting they might 'come in handy someday.' Clothes, books, snacks, and a ridiculous number of 'just in case' items all went into my bags."
"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 deep inside, I loved how much she cared. It made leaving harder.
Saturday evening arrived like fate knocking on my door. My suitcase was zipped, my passport tucked safely into my bag, and my dreams felt 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 the cab, and three minutes later it honked in front of our house.
We loaded my luggage into the trunk, my heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves, and then we were off. The airport was buzzing with life — goodbyes, reunions, tears, laughter, and people rushing toward their own destinies. Mine was somewhere across the ocean. Mom pulled me into a long, tight hug, both of us pretending not to cry even though neither of us 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. Live a little! Maybe even get a boyfriend? She attempted a smile but her voice cracked. Call me when you get to Oxford. I love you," she said.
"Mom! No boy drama. I already retired from romance, remember?" I protested. "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, not Mars. I'll come back, okay? Drama queen," I said, and we both laughed as we wiped our tears. I smiled through them. "Not happening. I'll always come back to you."
Then the announcement echoed through the terminal: "Flight to London now boarding."
"Have you taken everything? Do you have your visa and passport?" she asked for the tenth time.
"Yes, Mom. I'll miss you already, and I'll call you every day, I promise," I replied.
"You better."
I hugged her even tighter, knowing everything was about to change. My heart dropped. This was it. We hugged one last time — the kind of hug that feels like home — and then I stepped away and said goodbye. I went through security, checked in with my visa and passport, and chose a window seat because I love watching the clouds. I waved at Mom one last time before she disappeared into the crowd, and my chest tightened. This was really happening. I was leaving home.
I boarded the plane, found my seat, and stared out the window, trying not to panic about everything ahead. New people. New life. New everything. Mom was already gone, and I kept thinking about our last few days together. I knew I was going to miss her so much. I tried to distract myself by thinking about college — the fun, the stress, the new faces. I believed I could handle it, even if I was nervous.
Then the pilot announced takeoff, and my stomach flipped. Just as I settled in, a guy sat beside me — tall, cute, soft smile, the kind of hair that always behaves. He gave me a polite smile, and I pretended to stay calm while my heart pounded. The plane sped down the runway and lifted off the ground. I looked out the window and whispered a quiet goodbye to everything I knew. Somewhere over the ocean, thinking about new beginnings, I drifted off to sleep.
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 face 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 deep, warm, 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. God help me.
"I'm Noah James," he added, offering his hand.
"Felicity Paddington," I replied, shaking it. My palm instantly got sweaty. Ugh, betrayal.
"So, Felicity," Noah smiled. "First time in 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 everything: our majors, flights, awkward fears, why he hates birds, why I hate public embarrassment. 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. People in coats looking important. I officially wasn't in California anymore.
A cab took me straight to Oxford — crisp stone buildings, grand halls and courtyards, the smell of history hanging in the air. I received my accommodation key, checked in, and stepped into the small room that would be my home for the next four years. I unpacked, freshened up, organized my desk, 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. My real college life was beginning.
After settling in, I ate a quick meal and called Mom. We talked for a long time 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. Everything suddenly felt real. Scary. Exciting. 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. The guy the world watched but never truly knew. 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, but I grew up craving the one thing the palace never gave me: freedom.
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 not the polished, perfect prince my father wishes I was. 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 mistakes.
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, the entire kingdom watching my every move 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 for the crown. 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. I work part-time at a café. I keep a low profile. The me who doesn't care about crowns or palaces or gold-lined expectations. Everyone else thinks I'm normal. And honestly… that's how I like it. 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.