Christopher's POV.
For the first time, I kissed her and in that single, reckless moment, I realized I had already lost. Her lips were warm, soft, tasting faintly of strawberries and heartbreak. The shimmer of her red lip gloss caught the moonlight, and for one suspended breath, the world disappeared. No doubts. No fear. Just her. Just us. But then she pulled away and slapped me. That was when I knew I'd made a mistake.
I apologized for kissing her, but I would never apologize for loving her. She left a spark in my heart anyway. One I knew would never fade. And I would not give up on her and I wasn't going to beg her to understand, not tonight.
I stepped back, hands raised, my chest aching. "I swear I never meant to hurt you. I let my feelings take control, and that was wrong. I'm sorry, Fel."
And I meant it, not for loving her, never for that but for crossing a line she hadn't invited me to cross yet. She didn't respond. She didn't need to. So I turned and walked away. She stood there, stunned, her hand still trembling from the slap, her eyes wide with shock and something far more painful than anger. I didn't wait for her to say anything else. I couldn't. My heart thundered in my chest as I left…loud with confusion, echoing with sadness, heavy with longing, and painfully aware that nothing would ever be the same. Each step away from her felt heavier than the last.
The night air was cold as I walked down the street, but my skin still burned where her palm had met my cheek and where her absence now lived in my chest. It wasn't the slap that hurts. It was the look in her eyes. Anger, yes, but also fear that she slapped me again. I reached the end of the street and stopped under a flickering lamplight and dragged a hand through my hair, breathing hard. I could still taste her lips in mine. I closed my eyes, touched my lips, and let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head with a small smile.
'I love you.' I'd said it without planning to, without meaning to say it out loud but it was true. It had always been her. I went home and lay in bed. It was late but I was restless. Sleep was impossible. My bed felt empty. My mind replayed everything, her voice, her expression, the way she looked at me, like I'd shattered something fragile inside her. I loved her. That truth terrified me. So I got up, got dressed and went straight to Felicity's dorm.
When I knocked on the door, a middle-aged woman with kind hazel eyes and a gentle, warm smile answered.
"You must be Christopher," she said, smiling. Her voice is warm but curious.
"Please come in. I'm Felicity's mom, Joy."
I nodded, suddenly nervous. "Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry to disturb you. It's wonderful to meet you." I kissed her hand and stepped inside, unsure of what to do with my own hands, so I stuffed them into my jacket pockets.
"Such a gentleman," she smiled and invited me in.
The house smelled like vanilla and cinnamon—so warm and comforting.
Family photos lined the Polaroid wall with string lights, each one capturing a different season of their lives. I caught glimpses of Felicity in a few—laughing, smiling, growing up and glowing. Her mother clearly loved decorating.
"Please, why don't you sit?"
I nodded and took a seat on the sofa. My legs bounced with nervous energy. Joy sat across from me, folding her hands in her lap. She studied me quietly, her eyes kind but observant.
"I've heard a lot about you from Felicity. You're so handsome," she said.
"Thank you so much. And you too—you're beautiful beyond words. You look a lot like Felicity," I replied, smiling nervously.
"Why, thank you. She didn't tell me much, but I could see she was upset," she said gently. "Mind telling me what happened?"
My chest tightened as Joy listened quietly. I swallowed and told her everything that had led to tonight…how we met, how I cared, how I crossed a line, and how I regretted it.
"I kissed her," I admitted. "I didn't plan to. It just happened. And she slapped me. Thrice. But I don't mind. And I don't regret loving her."
Joy didn't scold me. She didn't judge. She didn't flinch. She just listened.
"I told her I loved her. And I do. I always have. But I think I scared her. I didn't mean to. I just… needed to make sure she's okay. But she isn't here, is she?"
There was a pause, then Joy gave a small, understanding smile.
"She isn't," she said softly. "She's always been guarded with her heart. You probably know that better than I do. But the fact that you're here, worried about her… that says something."
She stood. "I'll let her know you stopped by. She might need a moment."
I nodded. "Okay, ma'am. Thank you. I just wanted to make sure she's alright. I'll take my leave," I said.
As I turned to leave, Joy smiled knowingly.
"For what it's worth," she said gently, "loving her isn't your mistake. Forgetting to ask—that was."
I swallowed and nodded. She was right.
"Wait," she added suddenly, her eyes lighting up. "I have an idea. Why don't you pretend you're drunk?"
I blinked. "What?"
"I know you love her, and I can see you're a gentleman," she said. "Let's see how she reacts."
"That's a terrible idea," I said flatly. "I don't drink alcohol, and I'm not about to start."
"Pretend, you dumbass," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just pretend."
"Oh." I sighed. "Okay. That might actually work. I'll be right back."
And with that, I stepped outside.
>>>>>>>>>>
Felicity's POV.
As we stepped inside, I was dumbfounded. The outside was only a preface, inside was where the beauty truly lay. The house was breathtaking, far too grand to feel real.
"Shut the front door. Wow!" I breathed, taking it all in. "Someone pinch me, because I must be dreaming. This place is gorgeous. It's extraordinarily exquisite."
I whispered wow again. "It's beautiful inside and out. What kind of place is this? It's unreal. I swear I'm going to have a heart attack."
Penelope laughed. "Sit before you faint, okay? Relax. Calm down and have a seat. I'll be right back."
I tried to sit, but I couldn't. Everything around me sparkled—the chandeliers, the furniture, the polished floors. It all felt unreal. I finally sank onto the soft fancy couch, yet couldn't stop looking around. I was mesmerized. Everything was so beautiful. I stood and ran my hands over the couch, the gorgeous tables, the walls, even the chandelier. It was so elegant. I truly thought I was dreaming. They had a 55" LED TV and a HiFi sound system. The living room was massive, with two attached rooms and fancy chairs—a sight for sore eyes.
If the living room looks like this, how will the rest of the house be? I wondered. For a few precious moments, I forgot everything else. I'd worried about Mom, but she knew her way around, and she'd been to my apartment before. The only thing on my mind now was to live a fancy life for a few hours and enjoy myself. Good thing I'd dressed up.
My excitement was short-lived the moment Penelope's parents appeared. The air shifted instantly. I stood up and greeted them politely, but their response was sharp, humiliating, dismissive, and cruel.
"Good evening, Your Majesties," I said, politely.
"Hm. So you're the girl our daughter has been spending time with," her father said coldly. "No wonder she's changed so drastically. I didn't know she was associated with such low lives."
Her mother scoffed. "Honestly. My daughter deals with such riff-raff. Look at her—hardly dressed properly. Such low-class clothing."
Something inside me snapped. 'OMG, they didn't just say that. I'm going to show them their place right now'.
Penelope stepped forward, panicked. "Mother, Father, you promised to be nice! What the hell? Felicity, I'm so sorry."
"It's okay, Penelope," I said calmly, then faced them. "With all due respect, sir, your daughter is my best friend and this is who she truly is. If you think she's changed, then perhaps you don't really know her."
I turned to her mother. "Ma'am, it's highly inappropriate to insult a teenager who has done nothing wrong. And for the record, this is the fanciest dress I own, so you'll have to deal with it."
I held my ground. "Besides, I didn't even know she was a princess until tonight."
I defended myself and defended Penelope. I spoke my truth. For the first time since the kiss, I felt strong again. They both stared at me, stunned, while Penelope smiled. Just then, a servant came and announced that dinner was ready. It was 9 PM.
"Let's have dinner," Penelope said. Her parents headed to the dining room, but Penelope and I stayed behind. Soon, her little siblings came down the stairs.
Tension softened as her younger siblings appeared, bringing light and laughter into the room…dramatic, adorable, strangely familiar, wildly inappropriate six-year-olds who made me laugh when I desperately needed it.
"Hello! Are you Felicity—the one we've heard about?" the girl asked.
"Why yes, you little cutie pie. And what's your name?" I asked, bending down to meet her gaze.
"My name is Isla," she replied.
"And you, little dude?"
"I'm not a dude. I'm a prince! My name is Nathan, but you can call me Nate. You're beautiful beyond words, you're my princess," he said dramatically, bowing.
"Oh, why thank you, Your Highness!" I laughed, bowing in return.
"You remind me of someone. Well, never mind that. Anyway, you two are so cute," I added. Nathan's dramatic flair reminded me of Chris.
"Well, thank you, Miss Felicity," Isla said, bowing.
"I've got to tell you something, Princess. You shouldn't call me cute. I'm a man and men aren't cute. Men are handsome and hot and—"
"Okay, okay, Nathan, cut the crap," Isla interrupted.
"Hmm, feisty, aren't you? So hot," I said, joining in the drama.
"Oh, I'm going to love you, Princess," Nathan declared, kissing my hand before both of them ran off to the dining room. Penelope and I laughed.
"They're just children… yet they act like little adults. Seriously, how old are they?" I asked.
"Well, they're both six years old," she replied.
"And they behave like adults—wow. They really are nothing like you," I teased.
"Told you! Alright, let's go have dinner before my parents rain fire and hailstones on us," she giggled.
"Oh, they wouldn't dare," I replied, laughing as we walked to the dining area.
When we arrived, I was once again mesmerized by the beauty of the house. Everything about it was elegant and luxurious. Dinner followed—formal, proper, and a little suffocating. To my surprise, they waited for everyone to be seated before starting dinner. At my house, we would've started eating already.
"So, Felicity, where are you from?" her mother asked.
"Well, ma'am—" I began, but she interrupted.
"Please, call me Grace," she said warmly.
"Well then, Your Grace," I replied.
They all laughed.
"Oh dear," she said, amused. "My name is Grace Aurora Blake."
"Oh! Sorry about that," I smiled. "Well, Grace ma'am, I'm from Los Angeles, California. Thank you," I added, still smiling, a little puzzled by the sudden change in her demeanor.
Appetizers were served—cheddar soufflés. They were pretty tasty.
"Mmm, this is delicious," I said.
"Yes, our cooks do a great job," Penelope replied.
"So, we'd like to know the reason for your visit," her father said after finishing his appetizer.
"Well, I do have a reason today," I replied. "But for future visits, I won't need one. She's my best friend." I took a breath. "I'm here to ask your permission for Penelope to come to school tomorrow so we can finish and submit our project. Isn't that why you sent her to school in the first place? To learn, complete projects, have fun, and grow? Why not let her do those things?"
"And who says she doesn't?" her mother challenged.
"With all due respect, ma'am," I said calmly, "the restrictions you place on your children are clear in their eyes. And I think that's unwise. My mom always says children need to spread their wings and experience the world, not be cooped up. That's how they learn valuable lessons. It doesn't mean they'll go astray. If you've instilled good values in them, they'll know right from wrong. They won't learn from their mistakes if they're never allowed to make any."
I paused. "I know I'm just a regular girl, and it's not my place to tell royalty how to raise their children. But please, just consider what I've said."
Something unexpected happened. I'd spoken honestly—challenging them with respect, but without fear. And for the first time, they listened. Not because I was perfect, but because I was real. The room fell silent. Her parents exchanged a look until Penelope broke the quiet.
"It's okay, Felicity. You've done your best," Penelope said quietly. "I know my parents. They won't be stirred."
"That means you don't know us well enough," Grace replied softly. "We know we've been hard on you. Maybe that's why our first son left. But it was never out of cruelty—it was because we love you and never want to lose you."
"Mother, not now—please," Penelope said.
"Oh—right. You mentioned there are three siblings," I said gently. "Who is he?" I asked, making air quotes.
"It's nothing, Felicity," Penelope replied quickly. "He's my eldest brother. I just don't want to talk about it."
I gave her a confused look but let it go. Just then, a servant brought in the main course. It was a dish I didn't recognize. I hesitated, staring at it a little too long, and from the way they watched me, it was clear they noticed I had no idea what it was.
"It's called Whole-tail Scampi Caesar Salad. Try it—it's delicious," Penelope said with a smile. "It's a British dish."
I took a bite, and she was right. It was delicious.
"So, Felicity," Grayson, her father, said. "We've heard everything you said and you're right. Perhaps we act this way because we're getting older. But we will consider your words."
When he finally nodded, something terrifying and empowering settled in my chest. I realized I wasn't invisible. I wasn't small. And tonight, I'd brushed the edge of a world far bigger than my own.
"Father!" Penelope exclaimed.
"Are you saying you're old?" I teased lightly. "Seriously, you don't look a day over forty."
Laughter filled the room. Yet even surrounded by warmth and luxury, my thoughts drifted back to one person….Chris. The look in his eyes before he kissed me. The way he apologized. The way my heart betrayed me by racing anyway. Nothing had changed. Everything had.