I woke up feeling worse than when I fell asleep.
Not that I got much rest, maybe three hours at
best. My mind had been consumed with thoughts
of my dad all night. And then there was Kayvon.
I still can't believe he texted me. But why?
Why would someone like him even care? Come to
think of it, maybe I was a little too harsh on
him last night. He was just trying to show concern
about my dad. But still. I can't wrap my head
around it. Why would he care? After everything.
After months of making my life hell. Then again,
he stood up to his parents for me. He let me
leave. I'm so damn confused. I sit on the edge
of my bed, staring at the floor, wondering if
it even makes sense to go to work. I need to
check in on my dad. And honestly, I am not in
the mood to deal with the king and queen today.
And cave on. Who knows what he's up to now? Probably
plotting my mental breakdown as we speak. As
I step out of the shower and start getting dressed,
my phone buzzes again. Another message from Kayvon.
Good lord. Good morning. I know this might feel
a little weird, but I just wanted to check in.
Are you coming in today? If not, I totally understand.
I'll let mom and dad know what's going on. Let
me know. Thanks. I blink at the screen. He's
being... nice? What the hell? I shoot him a quick
reply, keeping it short. I won't be coming in
today. Please behave yourself. A second later,
he sends back a winky face, then a thumbs up.
It's the first real text exchange we've ever
had, and it's going surprisingly smooth. But
whatever. I can't think about that right now.
I make it to the hospital and the first thing
the doctor tells me is that there's a ton of
paperwork to fill out. No. Good morning. No small
talk. Just forms. So I get to it. Pen in hand,
filling out line after line until my wrist hurts.
Then they drop the news. They're discharging
him. He's good to go. I know my dad. He probably
told them he was fine just to get out of there.
Classic. By the time we get home, and by home
I mean my apartment because there's no way I'm
letting him stay at his place alone ever again.
It's after three in the afternoon and all I can
think about is his treatment. I sit dad down
on the couch and get straight to the point. We
need to sell the shop. He scowls. I'm not selling
the shop. That's my baby. I roll my eyes. Exactly.
That's why he doesn't want to let it go. Because
it's his baby. But that damn place doesn't even
make money. He just sits in there all day, existing,
burning electricity and wasting time like we
can afford it. It would be so much smarter to
just sell the damn thing. Not only would selling
the shop pay for his treatment, but I'd probably
have something left over. Hopefully, anyway,
if we get a decent appraiser. But Dad shakes
his head stubbornly. I'm not selling it. Then
he raises a finger. But if I do, it's not going
to want my treatment. It'll be for you to pay
off your damn student loans. Dad, I say, my voice
rising. If you don't take this treatment, you'll
die. Then let me die. He snaps. I'm old anyway.
I've lived my life. I'm 55. 55 is not old dad.
What is wrong with you? He sighs, his tone calm
but resolute. It doesn't make sense to spend
all that money on treatment if it just comes
back or doesn't even work. I'd rather you put
the money to good use. Pay off your loans. That's
what I want. You have to promise me that? He
adds. I already told the doctor I'm not doing
treatment. And you've got to live with that,
sweetie. I blink up at him. In my head, he's
going to take the treatment. He has to. But deep
down, I know better. If my dad says no, he means
it. And as I watch him hobble into the kitchen,
pour himself a glass of water like everything's
fine, reality punches me in the gut. He's dead
serious. I walk quietly to my room, shut the
door behind me, and just stand there. A wave
of emotion crashes over me, but I don't cry.
I just stare blankly at the wall, frozen. I'm
going to lose this man. I'm going to lose my
father. And there's nothing I can do about it.
Three hours pass before I wake up again. Apparently,
I'd fallen asleep and slept hard. The kind of
sleep that makes you wake up feeling stupid and
disoriented, then it hits me. Dad's here. I bolt
out of bed and peek around the apartment. He's
nowhere in the living room. But the door to the
spare bedroom is closed. And when I crack it
open, I see him fast asleep. That room was always
something I wanted for emergencies like this.
So when I started working, I made sure to rent
a place with two bedrooms, just in case. He looks
peaceful, which probably means he hasn't eaten.
Or maybe he grabbed a snack. Either way, we need
groceries, real food, cancer -friendly food,
whatever that is. I haven't even gone through
the papers they gave me yet. I head back to my
room, towel in hand, ready for a shower. But
just as I'm about to step in, my phone buzzes.
It's Kayvon. How's your dad doing? I stare at
the message for a second, unsure whether I should
even respond. One, it's past working hours and
this is technically my day off. Two, well, I
don't have a solid two. Maybe I'm just being
petty because maybe, just maybe, he's genuinely
concerned. So I sit on the edge of the bed, towel
wrapped around me and text back. He's fine. Just
about sleeping now. He's staying with me for
a while. Not sure how that's going to go yet.
But if you're wondering, I'm coming back to work
tomorrow. No need to panic. He replies almost
instantly, a smiley face. Pretty sure you have
sick days, Lara. It's not a death sentence to
take one. I'll be just fine. I read the text
and scoff. Just fine? His mother doesn't think
so. She thinks he's a liability, a stain on their
polished royal image. And if I don't get back
soon, I might as well be fired. And if I'm fired,
I can't pay rent, can't take care of Dad the
way he deserves, especially now that he's basically
written himself a death sentence. And then what?
I end up running the shop? No, that's not happening.
I text him back. I'll be at work tomorrow. Look
out for me. Just when I think our texting is
done, my phone buzzes again. And how are you?
How am I? I sink back onto the edge of the bed,
staring at the message for a moment, before typing
out. I'm good. Thanks for asking. But I'm heading
into the shower, so I'll have to talk to you
tomorrow. His reply comes quick. Oh, can I join
you? And just like that, there he is. Exactly
who I thought he was. The man never gives sex
a break, but then again. Can I blame him? He's
handsome, he's a prince and he's spoiled rotten.
I don't bother entertaining him. I leave him
on read and finally get into the shower. The
next morning, I tell dad I'm heading to work.
When I get back, we'll go grocery shopping, okay?
He just shrugs. Eyes still glued to the TV. This
man is acting like it's a regular Tuesday. The
nonchalance is maddening. It bothers me. It fucking
bothers me. Because I'm the one losing him. And
he doesn't seem to care. But I don't have time
to unravel that. Not today. I get to work. clock
in and immediately my supervisor calls me over.
We have a long talk about disappearing without
notice and taking unscheduled breaks. Even after
I explain that my dad was hospitalized, they
don't seem to care. If the money wasn't so good,
I would have quit. I really would have left.
Later, I'm sitting downstairs in the office area
when the room goes quiet. Prince Kavon has entered.
Everyone goes stiff because he's not supposed
to be here. This part of the building is off
limits to Royals, staff only. But he walks in
like he owns the place. And who is he looking
for? Me. Like I'm his mother or babysitter. But
I'm the one who's supposed to be chasing after
him. I jump up and rush over to him, grabbing
his arm and dragging him out. Don't you know
you're not supposed to come in here? I hiss.
He rolls his eyes. What? Are you all bad -mouthing
us in there? No, it's a staff -only area. Not
royal territory. He shrugs. Are we going out
today? I blink. I'm supposed to be asking you
that. You're the one with the schedule. So, what
have you planned? He shrugs again. Nothing, really.
Thought I'd give you a little break. Oh, gee.
How sweet of you. I fold my arms. So what? You're
not going to be fucking anyone today. That's
what you're saying. He frowns slightly, clearly
not amused. My dick will cope just fine, but
I'm sure you'd like that. You're clearly cranky.
I say, already turning away. I'm heading back
inside. He smiles. If I need something, I'll
let you know. I narrow my eyes at him. No, if
you need something, you can tell your servants,
not me. He doesn't respond, just watches me.
Let me know when you're leaving the palace, okay?
I add, he nods once. Prince Kayvon definitely
doesn't summon me for the rest of the day. And
weirdly, I feel sad. I don't know why I feel
sad, but I do. Maybe because, for once in my
life. I have absolutely nothing to do. Anyway,
I head home, get groceries with dad, and the
next day it's the same. He doesn't bother me.
He's in his room, probably playing games or doing
something equally harmless. And I'm just sitting
there thinking, what the hell is happening? Three
days go by like that. No chaos, no drama, just
silence. Then, on the fourth day... He struts
back into the staff area like it's no big deal,
and once again, I have to drag him out. But this
time, I'm actually nice about it. I'm bored as
hell, okay? Oh, so you're ready to go outside
and touch grass? I tease. Into the wild unknown?
He eyes me. I have somewhere to take you. Me?
Where? You'll see. Just grab your bag, I'll get
the car. I'm confused as hell, but honestly,
if it doesn't involve PR damage control, I'm
fine with it. So I follow him, and we end up
at a children's charity. Yes, a children's charity.
Turns out it's run by his mother, but it was
placed in his care last summer. I follow him
around like a lost puppy, still confused, until
we end up in a small back office. A woman greets
us with a polite smile. steps out for a moment,
then returns and hands me an envelope. Kayvon
turns to me with that smile, the smug one that
usually means trouble. But this time, it feels
different. I open the envelope and nearly drop
it. A cheque, in my father's name, for £55 ,000,
half of a hundred grand. I stare at it. Then
I stare at him. He's still smiling like it's
some grand gesture, but I'm not smiling back.
What is this? I ask flatly. It's a cheque for
your father. He says, as if it's obvious. To
help him with his treatment. Why would you give
me this? I ask, stepping back. So that I can...
What? Be grateful? Owe you something? No. It's
so I can help you. I set the check down on the
table. The woman blinks at me like I'm insane.
I don't need this. Isn't this, like, a charity
account? I can't just take money like this. He
frowns. But he needs it. It doesn't matter. My
father's already made up his mind. He blinks.
What? He doesn't want treatment. I say quietly.
He's willing to die. His face falls, the smile
vanishes, his whole expression shifts, and just
like that. The reality crashes over me again,
same as it did the day my father said it. I feel
it all rising, tight in my throat, behind my
eyes. Suddenly, I'm emotional. Because saying
it out loud makes it real. I turn and run outside.
Kayvon follows me and catches up, stopping me
on the pavement. Lara, can you stop, please?
I spin around, eyes blazing. Why are you acting
like you care? You don't. You can't. My voice
cracks. Yes, he's willing to die. I won't have
my father again. He's going to die. He's going
to fucking die. He pulls me into his arms, holding
me tight. I don't fight him. I don't even have
the strength. I didn't realise how much I'd been
holding in until that moment. The tears come
fast, unstoppable. I cry into his chest like
a child, shaking, broken. How could he do this
to me? I sob. I'm sorry, Lara. He whispers. I
pull back. blinking through tears. And why would
you rob children who actually need that money
just to give it to me? No, I... He shakes his
head quickly. Every year, we choose someone to
donate to. It doesn't have to be a child. It
can be anyone we believe needs it. This year,
I chose your father. He looks almost hurt. I
didn't mean it the wrong way. I blink up at him,
heart still pounding. It doesn't make sense,
I whisper. I don't want to take anything from
a child who actually needs it. My father's already
made his decision, and I respect that. He says
he's lived his life. And honestly, I wouldn't
take it either. Give it to a child, I add softly,
or divide it among many. He reaches up, brushing
my cheek. His touch tender for the first time
ever. You're so sweet. He murmurs. So selfless.
I flinch at his touch. It's too much. Too personal.
I step away from him, turning away. Take me back
to the palace. I don't feel well. Yes, of course.
I stay in the staff office for the rest of the
evening, stewing in my own thoughts. I don't
know what the hell is going on in my head. This
is Kayvon. He hates my guts and I hate his. That's
the one thing I could always count on. So why
is he suddenly being tender? I don't want to
think it. I don't even want the thought crossing
my mind. But does he like me? God, no. That's
the last thing I need. When I get home, Dad's
still on the couch, eyes glued to the TV. Did
you eat anything? I ask. He nods without looking
at me. Yeah, right. I grab something quick from
the fridge and hand it to him. He wolfs it down
like a starving dog. Good lord. Later, I crawl
into bed, ready to call it a night. But my thoughts
won't shut off. They circle and spin until they
drag me under. I whip out my phone and type a
quick message. I'm sorry. Less than a minute
later, Kayvon replies. Apology accepted. This
little brat. Here I was, actually feeling bad.
And he sends me exactly what I should have expected.
And then, of course, he follows it up with a
smug little emoji. I toss my phone onto the nightstand.
But it vibrates almost immediately. I stare at
it like it's a monster, cave on, calling me.
Ugh. Why? I groan, but still I answer. It's night
time. I say flatly. It's night time on my side
too. Why are you like this? What are you sorry
for? I sigh. How I behaved. It wasn't my best
moment. I was just… emotional. And you were trying
to be a good friend, I guess. And I took it the
wrong way. So, yeah, I'm sorry for how I reacted
for everything these past few days. There's a
pause. Then he says… Okay. Well, I accept your
apology. What are you doing? I'm about to head
into bed so I can make it to work early tomorrow.
Hmm. What? Nothing. Oh, for Pete's sake, just
say it. Do you always go to bed this early? Are
you really such a bore? Yes. I snap. I have responsibilities,
you know. Unlike you. Unlike me? He scoffs. I
have responsibilities too. I roll my eyes even
though he can't see me. Okay, sure. What? Nothing.
Don't you ever go dancing or clubbing? When I
was in college, yes. Now, I don't have the time.
My dad is sick, and I have to work with you all
day, every day. Don't lie. You get two days off
a week. That doesn't count. You all still call
me on my off days. I'm behaving myself now, so
you should have a little more free time. And
I'll use that time wisely. Sleeping, taking care
of my dad, managing the shop. That's such a boring
list. Well, except for taking care of your dad.
But you need activities. I don't need activities.
Why does this bother you so much? Because...
Because what? Spit it out. Because I want to
take you somewhere. I laugh. Loud, unrestrained
laughter. Take me out? Oh, hell no. You must
have lost your mind. That is the last thing I'd
want to do with you. Silence and instantly regret
creeps in. At least, not right now, I add weakly.
You're right. He says, his voice clipped. You're
probably right. This was a mistake. Have a good
night, Lara. He hangs up and I'm left staring
at my phone. realising I may have just landed
a direct blow to his ego. Shit. I get to work
expecting him to avoid me all day, but instead
calls the office phone, polite as anything, and
tells me he's heading out. That's the normal
procedure, but coming from him. Totally not his
style. When he shows up, he's in casual clothes,
shades on, and carrying an extra bag. Where are
we going? To the gym. I narrow my eyes. We have
a gym at the palace. A public gym. Oh god. Public
gyms are my worst nightmare. The second we get
there, people are snapping photos. And of course,
he looks gorgeous in every single one, while
I'll probably end up looking like a mole rat.
The paparazzi hover. Girls crowd him. But, shockingly,
he doesn't entertain any of them. Not once. Which
makes me wonder why he dragged me to a public
gym in the first place, when the one at the palace
has more equipment than this. For the next two
weeks, he makes a habit of showing up in public
places and he's on his best behaviour. So much
so. that sometimes I think maybe I'm not even
needed. But I see a side of him I wasn't expecting,
the way he kneels to talk to children or takes
his time with the elderly. It's nothing like
the arrogant prince I thought I knew. It softens
something in me. Kayvon's birthday is days away.
In addition to that, his parents have already
lined up a marriage partner, and it's clear he
isn't thrilled. Meanwhile, dad is worse without
treatment. The cancer's moving faster than I
expected. The king and queen grant me two weeks
off, partly because of my father, partly because
they want Kayvon to bond with his fiance. He
doesn't like that I'll be away from him, but
he lets me go. One evening, I'm at the hospital
with dad when I see Kayvon on the news, sitting
beside his bride -to -be at a charity event.
She's glowing, and he looks bored, miserable.
I pull out my phone and text. Good Lord, the
news is depressing. I'm watching your face and
it looks dread. Are you dying, sir? He replies.
Only because you're not here. I can't behave
badly. I can't help but smile. The camera pans
back, catching him mid -text with a grin. I send
another. At least you're smiling now. Maybe throw
in a wink and a long tongue for the camera. I'm
joking. But to my horror, he actually does it.
Right there. Live. I gasp, then burst out laughing.
Scandalous. I text. Boy, oh boy. It must be a
dream. I look up to see Dad awake, smiling faintly.
Oh, Daddy, you're awake. Who's got your smiling
like that? The Prince? Or do you have a new boyfriend?
I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't
seen you this chippy since your mum. Whoever
it is, they're doing something. I roll my eyes
and put my phone down, choosing to focus on him
instead. A week later, I still hear from Kayvon,
though not often. His fiance and birthday prep
are keeping him busy. Meanwhile, dad's in and
out of the hospital so much, I almost wish he'd
just stay there, where they can keep an eye on
him. One morning, while grabbing coffee, I bump
into an old college friend, Ben. We catch up,
and he asks me out. I'm not sure I want to, but
I know Dad would love hearing I'm having fun
again. Maybe it'll make him happy to think I'm
moving on. Plus, it would stop him from pushing
this ridiculous fantasy that the prince and I
are secretly in love. He swears we're headed
for marriage, but I think it's just the sickness
talking. I don't like Kayvon like that. I don't
think I do. And he doesn't like me either. Besides,
he has a girlfriend. God, why is this even a
thought? Ben picks me up in his fancy car and
takes me to a Michelin star restaurant. He's
going all out. We've just ordered when Kayvon
and his girlfriend walk in. Of course, his eyes
meet mine instantly. Then flick to Ben. His expression
doesn't change, which should be a relief, but
somehow isn't. He keeps walking with Natasha
at his side, probably toward the VIP section.
We finish eating and Ben insists on dessert.
I excuse myself and head to the washroom. When
I come out, Kayvon is waiting at the door. I
jump. What are you doing here? I should be asking
you that. This is the ladies washroom. He smirks.
Not that. You have a date. Yes. Who's that? None
of your business. Shouldn't you be with, uh,
what's her name again? He narrows his eyes. You
know her name. Don't play coy. Natasha. He shrugs.
I came to check on you. I'm fine. Now run along
I flick my hand at him not until you tell me
who he is why? Because I'm concerned I'm good
He's fine as you can see He rolls his eyes if
that's what you call good -looking My jaw drops.
Oh my god. Are you jealous? He turns away Text
me when you get home I'll be too busy He stops
cold. Do not fuck that dude. I arch a brow. Oh,
so you're my dad now? I'm just saying, he's not
the one. You can't tell me what to do. I'm a
grown woman. He ignores me, already walking away.
Text me Lara. I'll be waiting. And I did. I also
did not sleep with Ben. Honestly, I couldn't.
Not with dad this sick. I need to stay sharp.
It's a big day today. First thing in the morning,
I call Kayvon and sing him happy birthday. I
sound like a total toad, but he sits there and
listens all the way through. When I finish, he
chuckles. That was wonderful. I snort. You're
such a bad liar. He ignores me. Oh, um, I know
I've been busy. But I never got to tell you,
at the restaurant, you looked absolutely stunning.
Heat creeps up my neck. Thank you. Good thing
he can't see me blushing over the phone. So,
big day, huh? I tease. Well, yeah. I'm a year
older, not bad. Not that. I'm talking about Natasha.
Aren't you proposing today? Oh, that. His tone
drops. I frown. When someone's proposing, they're
supposed to be happy. Excited. But you sound
like you're heading to the gallows. That's because
it's arranged. Spending the rest of your life
with someone you barely know. It's not exactly
a fairy tale. To be fair, Natasha's nice. She
is. But still. Well, make sure you at least get
down on one knee. Isn't that what everyone does?
I don't know. You tell me. Apparently you're
the expert. I laugh. You're the prince. Shouldn't
you know? Before he can answer, noise erupts
in the background on his end. He goes quiet,
then says, I've got to go. They're calling for
me. I'll message you throughout the day. Please
don't. Maybe tonight. Or tomorrow. Today is your
day. And I'm going to spend it doing what I like,
which is texting you. I roll my eyes. I don't
know if I should be flattered. Hmm. He pauses.
Anyway, talk to you. It's just after midday and
I'm in the kitchen making soup for dad. He's
supposed to be discharged today. Yesterday was
rough. I honestly thought he wasn't going to
pull through. But the doctor said he stabilized
overnight. They're sending him home. I don't
think they should. But they insist there are
others who need the bed. So whatever. I turn
off the stove. Soup finished. When my phone rings,
it's the hospital. I answer with a smile in my
voice, but it fades instantly. My chest goes
cold. Dad caught a terrible infection. He isn't
doing well. I don't even know how I get to the
hospital. The whole drive is a blur. My head
pounds, my body numb, my thoughts spiraling to
the worst. When I arrive, I see him. Tubes everywhere,
his skin so pale, his body so thin. He looks
fragile, almost unrecognizable. Before I can
move closer, the monitors start screaming. Doctors
rush in around me. I'm shoved back, ushered out,
left helpless in the hallway. What's happening?
Tell me what's happening. No one answers. I pace
the hallway. Minutes stretch into an hour. My
heart pounds with every second. Finally, a doctor
steps out. His face is grim. I'm sorry. He says.
And that's all. My knees buckle. A whale rips
out of me before I can stop it. The sound echoes
down the sterile corridor as the weight of it
crushes me. My father is gone. Isn't it ironic?
They shoved me out so I couldn't even see his
last breath. And now that he's gone, I have all
the time in the world to lay with the dead. What
the fuck is happening? No! My phone vibrates.
It's a text from Kayvon. asking how I'm doing,
saying he's just checking in. I don't even reply.
I feel sick. My clothes are wet with tears. My
father's hands are cold and limp in mine, and
I can't think of anything else. An hour passes.
A nurse comes in gently, tells me they have to
move the body. I feel sick all over again. I
get up like a zombie, walk out of the hospital.
I don't even drive. I take the bus, staring at
nothing the whole ride. At home, I crawl into
bed, curl up, and wait for sleep that doesn't
come. Another text. Cave -on again. I can see
the worry in his words. He's asking why I haven't
answered, if I'm okay. He should be knee -deep
in his function by now. But he's still thinking
about me. I shouldn't keep him in suspense. My
fingers hover over the screen, then type the
only truth I have left. My dad is dead.