I already gave my heart to someone else.

A man—not royal, not rich, just real. Someone who made me laugh during training, who held my hand when no one was looking, who made me believe love didn’t have to be loud to be real. I loved him. Maybe I still do. But it ended, like all fragile things do when the world decides it wants something else from you.

And the world wanted me here. In the palace. In a uniform. Standing beside the princess.

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Our union was never a choice. I was told it was a privilege—to be chosen. To be hers. But how could it be a privilege when it felt like punishment? I wasn’t angry at her. Not really. She didn’t ask for this either. But that didn’t stop me from keeping my distance.

She was too kind. Too warm. Always smiling at me like I didn’t keep flinching away from her touch. Always trying to understand me even when I gave her nothing. She tried so hard.

And I hated how it started to wear me down.

I hated how I began to notice the way her hands trembled when I ignored her. How her voice softened every time she said my name. How she waited, day after day, for me to meet her halfway.

I hated how sometimes, I wanted to.

Because somewhere between the stolen glances, the stubborn laughter, and the way she always said goodnight even when I didn’t answer… I started to forget the face of the man I once loved.

And now, all I can think about is the princess.

The one I was forced to be with.

The one who never stopped choosing me—even when I never chose her.