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Istand in line, ticket in hand, my carry-on slung over my shoulder. The airport bustles around me, a sea of faces I don’t know, all headed to destinations I’ll never see.
My heart feels heavy, weighed down by the life growing inside me and the possibilities I’m leaving behind. I rest my hand on my belly, wondering if the baby can sense my turmoil. Maybe once I get to New York, I can start work again atThe Morning Starand throw myself into preparing for the baby’s arrival.
The line inches forward, and I take a step, then another. Each movement feels mechanical, like I’m on autopilot, just going through the motions.
I reach for my phone, needing a distraction from my spiraling thoughts. That’s when I see it — a voicemail. From Luca.
My heart leaps right into my throat, but I put a hard stop on my racing mind, which longs to jump to all sorts of conclusions.
My finger hovers over the play button. Part of me wants to ignore it, to board this plane and never look back. But a bigger part, the part that still loves him despite everything, needs to hear his voice one last time.
And so I press play and lift the phone to my ear.
“Hailey…” His voice is rough, strained. “I know I have no right to ask anything of you right now. But please… if you haven’t left yet… if there’s even the smallest part of you that still believes in us… come to the coronation. Let me show you how much you mean to me. I am sorry for what I said.”
I close my eyes, tears threatening. One of them escapes anyway, to slip down my cheek. I quickly wipe it away, glancing around to see if anyone noticed. The message over, I lower the phone, my heart racing.
The line moves again. The gate agent gestures for me to come forward, to hand over my ticket and board the plane that will take me back to my old life.
But suddenly, my old life isn’t enough anymore. Luca’s words echo in my head — his love, his pleading, his apology. Can I really walk away from all of that? From him?
My hand tightens on my ticket as indecision wars within me. Board the plane and leave Luca and Werdenfeld behind forever? Or turn around and take a leap of faith, giving our love the chance it deserves?
I take a deep breath… And then I’m spinning on my heel and racing back through the terminal, my carry-on bumping against my hip.
“Miss!” the gate agent calls after me. “Miss, your flight!”
I don’t turn back. I can’t. My heart has already made the decision for me.
I weave through the crowds, ignoring the curious stares and irritated grumbles as I jostle past. The gleaming floors and glass walls blur together as I run, focused solely on my destination.
Luca. I’m going back to Luca.
I burst out of the airport into the bright sunlight. Panting, I hail a taxi, practically throwing myself into the back seat.
“The palace,” I gasp out. “Quickly, please.”
“You won’t even get close to it today,” he says. “Not with the coronation.”
“I don’t care.” I shake my head frantically. “Take me as close as you can.”
The driver raises an eyebrow but nods, merging into traffic. I stare out the window, my knee bouncing with nervous energy. Will I make it in time to see Luca crowned? Will we be able to work through everything and come to an agreement, despite what’s happened?
The drive simultaneously takes forever and no time at all. The driver pulls up to the palace gates and I quickly swipe my card before tumbling out of the door and onto the pavement.
But I stumble to a halt, my eyes widening. The palace grounds are packed, crowds of people jostling for a good position, craning for a glimpse beyond the gates. The driver was right. There’s no way I’m getting inside, even with the staff knowing who I am.
I push my way forward anyway, murmuring apologies. But the closer I get to the gate, the thicker the crowd becomes, the individual bodies morphed into an impenetrable wall. I pull out my phone and try to call Luca, but there’s no answer. He’s probably already on stage, maybe even being crowned at this very moment.
“Please,” I beg, trying to squeeze through. “I need to get inside. I’m Hailey Warren; I’m here to see Pr— King Luca.”
But the guards just shake their heads, unmoved. “No entry,” one says firmly. “Invited guests only.”
Desperation claws at my throat. I’m so close — I can’t fail now.
“Please, you don’t understand! I need…” But my pleas fall on deaf ears. I’m just another face in the crowd, another commoner trying to catch a glimpse of royalty.
I’m about to give up, my shoulders slumping in defeat, when I hear a shout.