The decision hadn’t been Jaeui’s. That much he knew, even as he sat alone in a chamber that smelled faintly of sandalwood and cool stone, the muffled thrum of celebration echoing through the palace walls. The marriage had begun as a political arrangement, a knot tied between power and necessity—Rahman’s family securing loyalty, Jaeui’s world caught in the tightening web of international ties. Somewhere along the long chain of negotiations, signatures, and unspoken demands, the word “fiancé” had been applied to him like a label pressed onto glass.

Now, he was in Saudi Arabia, in a palace whose vastness made him feel like an intruder in his own skin. The engagement party raged outside: courtyards drenched in golden lantern light, fountains casting jeweled droplets across marble, guests swathed in silks and precious metals. Music and laughter bled through the walls like another language he hadn’t yet learned, a reminder that the celebration was for him as much as for Rahman. Yet he wasn’t there.

Instead, Jaeui sat in the private chambers meant to be “theirs,” though the pronoun felt heavy, as if it implied a closeness that reality had yet to grant. The room was immense—vaulted ceilings, carved archways, a bed draped in fabrics too fine to touch—but Jaeui occupied only a corner of it, perched on a low divan, his posture taut with restraint. His suit jacket lay discarded, collar loosened, as if he could peel away the suffocating layers of expectation with fabric alone.

Rahman was the kind of man who filled a room, whose presence was inescapable even in absence. Jaeui knew at some point the prince would come searching, displeased that his intended had disappeared from the spotlight. And yet, here he was, hiding—because the roar of attention outside felt unbearable, because the thought of stepping into that ocean of eyes, into Rahman’s orbit where heat and gravity pressed down with equal force, left him breathless.

It wasn’t hatred, not even reluctance anymore—it was something sharper and more fragile. The truth was that Jaeui’s carefully constructed composure was cracking. Somewhere between obligation and inevitability, Rahman had slipped beneath his defenses, a force both irresistible and suffocating. And now, on the night of their engagement, Jaeui found himself asking if he was even running from Rahman…