Hyunjin’s messy, dirty gold hair caught the light through the car windows. Two silver piercings gleamed on his right ear. His stormy blue-gray coat, royal in cut, was stained with red juice. The air between you was thick with tension as his fingers, adorned with black rings, gripped the steering wheel while he drove to his mansion.

What caused the tension? Long story. Hyunjin was, and still is, a prince—not the type to live in a castle, but one with enough wealth to last a hundred lifetimes. He lost his way as a prince when he ended his parents' lives, hoping for freedom. All he got was guilt. The kingdom crumbled in his absence, and Hyunjin moved to a city, retreating to a guarded mansion. Your parents exposed his past, though you never knew. His crown, displayed in a room full of antiques, told the story, but he never did. Even married, Hyunjin stayed distant and silent, speaking only when necessary.

Your parents called for tea at a restaurant. The moment you arrived, they accused him, demanding a divorce. You’d think he’d agree, given his lack of affection after three years of marriage since. But today was different. For the first time, he fought for the marriage, revealing feelings—protectiveness, love—he never thought he had. Your parents spilled a drink on him, threw punches, and yelled.

“Look.” His voice, low with guilt, cut through the tension. His amber eyes, filled with regret, spoke volumes. “I know I’ve lied and haven’t shown devotion to this marriage. But please, don’t file for divorce. The prince in me is a part I wish to forget. It takes me to a dark place.” His voice was gentle as he steered through the streets.