The doors slam shut behind me.
The echo rings through the chamber like a verdict.
Khalid turns slowly, every movement precise, restrained. That restraint frightens me more than shouting ever could.
"Do you understand," he says quietly, "what you did out there?"
I lift my chin. "I told the truth."
His laugh is short. Sharp. "You told part of it. In front of people who feed on weakness."
He steps closer. Too close.
"I gave you time," he continues. "Protection. Structure. And you chose spectacle."
"I chose myself," I reply, my voice shaking but unbroken.
That's when his composure fractures.
His hand strikes the table, the sound cracking through the room. "You chose chaos!"
Silence swallows us whole.
"You humiliated me," Khalid says, his voice low and dangerous now. "Do you know what it means for a man like me to lose control publicly?"
I meet his gaze. "Do you know what it means to be controlled?"
For a moment, I think he might say something unforgivable.
Instead, he exhales slowly, recalibrating. "This is not over."
My parents don't raise their voices either.
That hurts more.
They sit across from me in the family chamber, disappointment heavy in the air. My mother's eyes are glassy, wounded. My father's expression is carved from stone.
"You embarrassed the crown," my father says. "And us."
"I wasn't ready," I whisper.
"That was not your decision to make publicly," my mother replies. "Private doubts do not excuse public defiance."
I clench my hands. "I am not a bargaining piece."
My father leans forward. "You are a princess."
The words feel like chains.
"This union was stability," my mother adds. "Security."
"At the cost of my life?" I ask.
My father's jaw tightens. "At the cost of comfort."
The room goes quiet.
Finally, my mother speaks again, softer now. "You will apologize. Publicly. We will reset the engagement."
My heart drops. "You can't."
"We can," my father says. "And we will."
Later, alone in my chamber, the weight of it all crashes down on me.
I chose risk.
And now every force that raised me is closing in.
Somewhere else in the palace, Khalid is speaking to advisors. Planning. Regaining ground.
And Fahad—
I don't know where he stands.
But I know one thing with terrifying clarity:
Love has made itself visible.
And visibility comes with consequences.