Felicity's POV.
They held my hands tightly, rough fingers clamped around my wrists as panic surged through my chest.
'He isn't really leaving me now, is he?' I told myself. 'Why am I so impulsive?'
"All right, darling," the first thug said, tightening his grip. "Let's continue what we started."
"Gentlemen, you look like decent guys—please, just let me go," I pleaded, my voice trembling.
"Yes," the second one sneered. "Good guys like to have fun. You get what I'm saying?" His grin widened. "And you're the fun I'm talking about."
They grabbed my arms and dragged me toward the darker end of the street, my shoes scraping helplessly against the pavement.
"Leave me alone!" I screamed, panic clawing at my throat.
I had to call out to Chris, clinging to the hope that he hadn't really left. Without thinking, I called out the one name my heart trusted.
"Chris!" I cried. "I need you!"
Out of nowhere, he appeared. Fists flew. Bodies crashed, and painful grunts filled the night. Chris moved like a storm, fast, furious, unstoppable, taking the thugs completely by surprise. They didn't stand a chance. Within seconds, they were bruised, terrified and stumbling, fleeing into the night. My knees nearly gave out. Tears blurred my vision as I ran to him and wrapped my arms around his chest but he didn't hold me. Instead, he pushed me away. His eyes blazed with fury, pain, and something dangerously close to heartbreak.
"What did I ever do to you?" he snapped. "You almost got yourself hurt because of your pride, your stubbornness, your ego. Felicity, I didn't do anything wrong. I just fell in love with you."
His voice shook with restrained emotion. "I've never loved anyone this much before. Only you. I didn't plan it. I didn't ask for it. It just happened and it's real. Unintentional, but real. And I'm not going to stop feeling it now."
Then he turned and started to walk away. I stood frozen, tears spilling freely, unable to move. When reality finally hit me, I came to my senses and ran after him.
"Chris, wait!" I cried, rushing after him.
"I'm sorry," I said breathlessly. "Okay? I really am."
He stopped but didn't turn around.
"For what exactly?" he asked coldly. "What are you sorry for?"
"For how I treated you, for hurting you, for pushing you away when you were honest with me. You opened up, showed you cared, and I… I just panicked. I blew it all out of proportion. I'm so, so sorry."
"Stop apologizing," he said flatly. "It's over."
"What's over?" I whispered, my voice trembling as my chest tightened.
"Everything," he replied. "I won't bother you with my feelings anymore. I take it all back. I'm sorry for my behavior… and for the trouble I caused you tonight."
He still wouldn't look at me.
"Even our friendship?" I asked, tears sliding slowly down my cheeks. "Is that over too?"
He finally turned, his gaze piercing mine.
"You tell me," he said quietly. "Do you want it to be over? Do you think it's over?"
We walked silently until we reached my dorm.
"Go inside," he said softly. "Get some rest. Say goodnight to your mother for me, okay?" He didn't answer my question.
I swallowed. "Goodnight," I murmured, waiting for more. He didn't respond. He didn't look back.
Inside, I found Mom asleep on the couch—she must have waited up for me. My heart squeezed painfully. I gently covered her with a blanket and kissed her forehead before crawling into bed heading, exhausted, hollow, and emotionally drained.
A flashback hit me—his lips brushing mine, the warmth of that moment still lingering. I snapped back to the present with a tight ache in my chest, my heart beating fast and uneven, as if my body remembered something my mind was trying to forget. Tears welled in my eyes, but I didn't let them fall. He loves me—but I don't know if my heart can take it. It has been broken before, and I don't want to break it again.
The next morning, a pounding headache woke me up. Mom had already cleaned the kitchen, done the laundry, and prepared breakfast, as she always did. I walked into the kitchen, rubbing my temples, feeling every ache from the night before.
"Oh, Mom, my head is killing me. I have a splitting headache," I groaned, holding my temples.
"Oh, sweetheart," she said gently, guiding me to sit. "Come here. I'll massage your temples. Then we'll have some coffee, and after breakfast, you'll take your medicine and rest, okay?"
"Thanks, Mom," I smiled weakly. "What would I do without you?"
"Nothing," she said playfully. "Absolutely nothing, I suppose."
We laughed. "Oh, before I forget—I have to go to school today," I said, sipping the coffee she handed me.
"On a Saturday?"
"Yeah. We have a project due."
She nodded but sighed. "I was hoping we'd have time to catch up. I haven't even met your friends properly, and honestly my first impression of one of them didn't go too well. That boy last night worries me, and frankly, it says a lot about the people you hang out with."
"Mom, Chris isn't like that," I said quickly. "He doesn't drink. It's a long story, and it's complicated. Trust me, I'll explain everything later, I promise. I really have to go right now."
"Yeah, yeah. Run along," she said, waving me off dramatically. "I'll just be here… alone… by myself… abandoned…Did I mention alone?"
"Oh, Mother," I laughed. "Don't be such a drama queen."
After a hot shower, put on my pink floral dress, kissed her goodbye, and pedaled my bicycle down the quiet morning street. The air was crisp, the dew fresh, and for a fleeting moment, the world felt peaceful, almost like it belonged only to me.
>>>>>>>>>>
Christopher's POV.
The moment she closed the door, I let out a sharp breath. I was already walking away, down the street, hands shoved into my pockets and my heart pounding like it hadn't gotten the memo that I'd just said it was over. Why did I do that? Why did I say that? Gosh, I'm so stupid. I stopped mid-step, breath fogging in the cold air. It wasn't over. I knew it the second the words left my mouth. I love her. I always will. No amount of pride or anger was ever going to change that.
Then I heard footsteps. I turned and there he was. Noah stepped closer, his eyes sharp and unreadable.
"You," he said flatly.
"Me?" I snapped. "Are you talking to me? And who the hell do you think you are?"
He smiled, slow and dangerous.
"Your worst nightmare."
I laughed, but there was no humor in it.
"Stay away from Felicity," he snarled.
"Or else what?" I shot back.
"She's mine," he snapped.
My blood boiled. "She's not some prize you get to claim."
"I saw everything—the coffee shop, the thug. You don't love her. I know you're just using her."
I clenched my fists. "Are you crazy? Who do you think you are, coming here and saying all that?"
"The one who won't hurt her," he replied.
"You've insulted me and Felicity. Listen carefully, you better watch your back. I love her, and I will never give up. So you better run while you still can."
"You better watch out too," he said.
That was it. The line. The one thing I couldn't forgive.
I stepped closer. "You don't know her. And you don't know me."
His gaze hardened. "I know she deserves better."
For the first time that night, doubt crept in not about my love, but about whether I'd already lost her. And that scared me more than anything. When I got home, I didn't even change, just collapsed onto my bed. Sleep never came. My mind kept replaying the threat I faced that night. By morning, regret weighed heavily on my chest, about Felicity, about last night, about everything that had happened. My emotions were in complete disarray. After a long, cold shower in hopes of clearing my head, I did something I hadn't done in weeks: I called my mother. She answered on the first ring.
"Hello, Mother," I said, bracing myself.
"Christopher! My son!" she exclaimed. "You remembered you have a mother? I'm shocked. What a surprise, I was just thinking of you. How are you, darling?"
I chuckled lightly, even though I wasn't in the mood.
"I'm fine. Just wanted to check on you. I'm sorry. Things have been hectic lately. I miss you. How is Father? How are things at the palace?"
There was a pause on the line. I knew that pause. She was about to say something important.
"I miss you too, darling. And that's exactly why I've been trying to reach you. There's something we need to talk about. Well," she began with a peculiar cheerfulness. "Your father and I have some news. We found someone, someone wonderful. Her name is Mia Harrison."
My blood ran cold. "Mia?" I repeated cautiously, as if someone had punched me in the chest. That part of my life was long buried and not by accident.
"Yes! The woman you're going to marry. You remember her, don't you? Your childhood sweetheart. Oh, you were inseparable as kids! Her parents are old allies of the Crown. The match is ideal for many reasons, royal duties, family values, everything aligns. She's a duchess in Scotland," she said.
I paused, chest tightening. Blinked once.
"Come again?"
"Chris, this is not up for debate. You've known her your whole life, don't you remember Mia? Your sweetheart from the royal estate?"
My heart dropped. "Mother, that was over a decade ago. We were kids playing with sticks and sneaking into the garden."
"Yes, and now you'll be adults sharing a crown. Her family has kept their loyalty to the monarchy. She's grown into a stunning, accomplished young woman. The council, your father, and I believe this alliance is exactly what the monarchy needs."
"But I'm not in love with her anymore. It was just a childhood crush. Nothing more," I said slowly, trying to remain calm.
"And yet love can come after duty, just like it always has," she said calmly.
"No, not for me," I replied firmly. "I'm in love with someone else."
Silence again. This time, heavier.
"Who is she?" she asked.
"I don't know if you know her, but she's kind, brave, fierce. She makes me feel alive. And I love her."
"Is she a duchess or a princess?" she asked.
"No," I said softly. "She's just a normal girl. My girl."
The Queen sighed. "She's a commoner, Christopher. She has no title, no pedigree. She can never stand beside you as queen."
"You raised me to think for myself. To feel. So what changed?"
"I raised you to serve your people and protect your kingdom. And that means making sacrifices."
"I won't marry someone I don't love."
Another long silence.
"We will continue this discussion in person," my mother said. "She's arriving in a few days. We've arranged a dinner for the official announcement. Christopher, she's perfect for you. You need to see Mia for yourself before you make this decision."
"What about my father? Did he consent to me marrying Mia?" I asked.
"Yes. He's the one who brought up the whole idea of an alliance marriage," she said.
"I already made my decision," I said quietly. "But I'll come. Not because I agree, but because I respect you."
"Fine," she said. "Tomorrow morning."
She hung up. She didn't know about Felicity. But my heart already belonged to her. By the time I stepped back, my chest still tight and my thoughts scattered, I realized just how tangled everything had become. Anger, longing, regret, and fear pulled me in every direction at once. I didn't know it then, but that moment had become the crossroads of my heart—the point where everything shifted. I was caught between what I felt and what I feared, unsure whether to move forward, turn back, or stay frozen in place. Whatever path I chose next, I knew it would change everything.