Page 77 of Royal Deception

CLARY

I’m sitting on my couch, staring at the screen, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Part of me wonders if I’m just being foolish even thinking about it. But the other part… well, it’s still tangled up in everything that happened with Rory.

I need someone else’s perspective. So, I text Ana, explaining the situation.

Clary: So?

Clary: What do you think? Should I give him another shot?

The three dots blink for a few seconds before Ana’s reply pops up.

Ana: Sounds like he’s willing to try, but one question.

Ana: Did he ever actually apologize to you? Because that’s the only way you know he’s sincere.

I frown at the message, feeling a pang of frustration. No, he didn’t apologize. Not in any real, heartfelt way. Not for all the mess he caused.

But the pull to try again is still there, lingering in the back of my mind.

Clary: Not exactly. But I think he’s trying. I wanna give him a shot. I really like him. Am I being bonkers?

Ana’s response is swift, but it carries the weight of her thoughts.

Ana: It’s not crazy to want to get back with someone you still have feelings for. Just be cautious. Make sure he’s actually sorry for how he treated you. Don’t just settle for someone who says they’re “trying”, okay? You deserve better, girl.

I lean back, reading her words over and over. She’s right, of course. I do deserve more than someone just “trying”. But maybe, just maybe, I owe it to myself to see if there’s more there with Rory. After all, if he’s making an effort, maybe that’s a start.

Clary: You’re so sweet. I think I’m going to give him a chance. I’ll see what he does on our “date”. Maybe he’ll surprise us both.

I hitSendbefore I can second-guess myself. Ana’s answer is a little quieter this time.

Ana: You’ve got this, Clary. Just remember what you deserve, okay?

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words.

The ping of a new text cuts through my thoughts. It’s Rory. My pulse kicks up a notch, my stomach fluttering in that way I can’t control.

Rory: I’m looking forward to our date tomorrow.

I let the message hang there for a moment. I know I’m not ready to forget everything that happened, but there’s a part of me that wants to see if things can change.

Clary: Where are we going?

Rory: It’s a surprise.

Rory: Oh! But wear a warm sweater and some comfortable pants.

I drop the phone beside me, unsure of what comes next but letting the possibility of something new settle in. Maybe this time, I can stop waiting for things to fall apart.

The anticipation creeps up on me slowly. At first, it’s just a tiny flicker—something light and fragile that I can ignore if I try hard enough. But as the hours tick down, that flicker turns into something steadier, something I don’t want to push away.

I’m excited.

It’s ridiculous, maybe. After everything, I should be more guarded. But the idea of a real date with Rory, one where we’re just two people figuring things out instead of drowning in all the ways we’ve hurt each other, is more than a little thrilling.

But that excitement fades a little the next day when I stand in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection.

The pastel blue sweater I picked to wear is soft and cozy, and it’s a color that always makes me feel a little brighter. I smooth my hands down the fabric, trying not to focus on the way it clings a little too much to my stomach. It’s not like I can hide it anymore, not really. My jeans fit fine, but they rest lower than they used to, accommodating the slight curve of my growing belly.