The palace always felt different whenever Zayn wasn't in the room.
Quieter.
Colder.
Bigger.
I sat by the window, fingers wrapped around a warm cup of tea, watching the clouds gather outside the castle walls. It felt strange being alone after such a soft, perfect morning.
My eyes drifted to the wedding ring on my finger—delicate, silver, engraved with a single word inside:
"Mine."
Zayn chose it himself.
A small smile tugged at my lips as memories of our wedding day washed over me like sunlight.
---
The ceremony had taken place under a breathtaking sea of chandeliers, each one glittering like constellations suspended above us. The Montclair royal crest hung behind the altar—two mirrored lions forming the shape of a crown. A symbol of strength. A symbol of legacy. A symbol of the twin princes.
I remembered how nervous I felt walking down the aisle. My dress whispered against the marble floor, my heartbeat echoing louder than the music.
But then I saw him.
Zayn.
Standing tall in a dark royal suit, gold embroidery tracing his shoulders like fire. His eyes—steady, warm, devoted—never left mine.
And suddenly…
the world made sense.
When I finally reached him, his fingers brushed mine with the gentlest tremble, as if he was afraid too—afraid of loving me too much.
"You're breathtaking," he whispered, voice low enough that only I could hear.
"You're nervous," I whispered back.
"Only because I've never wanted something this badly."
My heart broke open inside me.
Our vows weren't loud, or showy, or dripping with formality. They were intimate. Honest. Soft.
"I promise to choose you," Zayn said, "in every lifetime, in every world, in every version of myself."
My voice shook when I replied.
"I promise to love the man behind the title more than the title behind the man."
those were our wedding vows
and slowly the crowd faded.
The palace disappeared.
It was just him.
And me.
And the eternity between us
reality had hit Us
I could remember when the priest finally pronounced us husband and wife, Zayn didn't wait for permission—he pulled me into a kiss that felt like a universe forming.
Jeez
---
A soft knock pulled me out of the memory.
"Your Highness?"
It was Elena, one of the palace attendants assigned to me.
I turned. "Yes?"
She stepped inside hesitantly. "Prince Azael has asked that you join him in the East Wing lounge."
My heart paused.
"Me?" I questioned. "Not Zayn?"
"He insisted on speaking with you directly."
Azael?
The prince who barely spoke unless necessary?
The twin known for his coldness and precision?
The one who never asked for me… or anyone?
A strange, uneasy chill slid through me.
"Do you know what he wants?" I asked.
Elena shook her head. "But he seemed… troubled. I've never seen him like that."
Troubled?
Azael didn't get troubled.
He caused trouble.
I set down my tea, smoothed the skirt of my dress, and forced myself to steady my breathing.
"Very well," I whispered. "Lead me to him."
But as I stepped into the long, echoing hallway leading to the East Wing, the castle suddenly felt too big… and too quiet.
My thoughts spiraled.
Why did Zayn leave looking serious?
Why did Azael send for me personally?
Why now?
The heavy double doors of the lounge came into view.
Elena pushed one open.
"Maya," Azael's deep voice called from inside. "Come in. We need to talk."
I froze.
Because something was very wrong with the way he said it.
Very wrong.
Elena whispered, "Your Highness? Are you okay?"
But I didn't answer.
Because at that moment—right before I stepped into the lounge—I heard something inside.
Azael's voice.
And Zayn's voice.
Low.
Urgent.
And angry.
"…she doesn't know yet," Zayn was saying.
"She needs to," Azael replied firmly. "You can't hide this from her any longer."
My heart stopped.
Hide what?
I pushed the door open fully.
Both twins turned to me.
And Zayn—my soft, gentle husband—looked at me with eyes full of a truth he never wanted to say out loud.
"Maya," he breathed.
But Azael said it first:
"It's time you knew the truth."