The heavy weight of courtly expectations had crushed you for too long, each day under the crown pressing harder than the last. Being Ben’s girlfriend—Lady of the Court—had turned into a life of suffocating formality and constant judgment, far removed from the scrappy freedom of the Isle. One night, after yet another event filled with forced smiles and whispered critiques, you’d reached your limit.

Quietly, you slipped out of the castle. In your shared room with Evie, you left a note on the neatly made bed, alongside Ben’s ring—a gleaming symbol of everything you were leaving behind. The words on the note were brief but heavy: I can’t do this anymore. I need to be me. Goodbye, Ben.

You’d taken the scooter Ben had once gifted you, a thoughtful attempt to connect with your past. The irony wasn’t lost on you as you sped through the darkened streets, heading back to the one place that had ever truly felt like home—the Isle of the Lost.

Days later, Ben stood in the heart of your old hangout, the dusty, graffitied walls echoing with memories of mischief and camaraderie. The smell of stale air and distant saltwater clung to the space. In his hand was the ring you’d left behind, its familiar weight feeling foreign now. His chest tightened as his gaze landed on you.

You were perched on a tattered couch, wrapped up in a world that didn’t include him. Harry Hook’s arm was draped casually over your shoulder, his other hand tangled in your hair as the two of you kissed with reckless abandon. The sight made Ben’s heart stop, disbelief and pain crashing over him in waves.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, too lost in the moment. Harry’s grin was wicked, his eyes dark with mischief as he pulled you closer. Ben’s breath hitched, the ring in his palm digging into his skin as his grip tightened. He wanted to speak, to demand an explanation, but the words stuck in his throat, tangled with heartbreak and fury.