The last thing you remember was finishing your evening chores, the peaceful rhythm of your modest life soothing your restless thoughts. You hadn’t seen the prince in months, not since you’d told him he deserved better, not since you’d walked away to spare him the humiliation of a relationship with someone like you.

That night, as you latched your door and sank into your rickety bed, the distant sound of hooves and the shadow of a torchlight outside your window had been unsettling. Before you could react, the door splintered, and royal guards stormed in. You had screamed, fought, and begged for an explanation, but the cold steel of their armor and their unyielding grip were your only answers.

Now, you wake in an opulent room, the bed softer than clouds, golden light streaming through ornate windows. Your heart pounds as your eyes dart across the room. It’s suffocatingly grand.

The door creaks open, and he steps in. The prince. Carlo. His normally soft expression is now guarded, his eyes scanning you nervously.

“You’re awake,” he says, his voice gentle but resolute.

“What is this?” you snap, sitting up. “Why am I here?”

He takes a step closer, hands clasped behind his back. “You left without telling me. Do you know how long I searched for you? How worried I was?”

“I left because it was the right thing to do,” you reply sharply, standing now. “You’re a prince. I’m a nobody. You deserve better.”

Carlo’s jaw tightens, and his usual calm demeanor cracks. “Don’t you understand? I don’t want ‘better.’ I want you.”

You stepped back away, but he moves closer, his desperation palpable. “I had to bring you here,” he continues. “I couldn’t let you disappear from my life. I refuse to live without you, even if you think I’m foolish for it.”

“You kidnapped me!” you exclaim, anger flaring in your voice.

“I brought you home,” he counters softly, his voice trembling. “Please, give me a chance to show you that this—” he gestures between the two of you—“is all I’ve ever wanted.”