23rd ♕
Trust me.
L
The text message had arrived three days ago. I didn't know the sender's name. So far, my cell phone number hadn't been broadcasted to the whole world yet. And given the circumstances and my lack of a wide range of friends, L could likely stand for Love.
Even before, she always put her initial at the end of a text message, one space down. She probably got hold of my number from someone in the palace. But why would she tell me this?
I was almost sure that Love had planned all this. That she had even cooperated with Robin. But the Queen herself had told me that she had asked her private investigator to look into the matter, and Robin's name was the only one who had turned up.
I'd already accepted the fact that Love would be the next princess. Slowly, I'd reached the point of self-awareness and analyzed how things were going. I told myself to think of Love as just another girl who was the next in line.
From the start, I'd never wanted the title. All I'd wanted was to have a part-time job. Then life made fun of me, gave me a taste of my own medicine, and took it back right when I was starting to get attached to it.
"Georgey? We're going," Mom no. 1 said from outside my room.
"I'll see you off," I shouted, closing the ambiguous text message.
Mom no. 1 was waiting for me outside my door. She pulled me into a tight hug when she saw me, and I was intoxicated with the smell of the expensive perfume I'd been sniffing around in our house lately. "Honey, I'm going to miss you. Let's see each other again, okay?"
"You know where to find me," I replied, placing an arm around her back.
She held me on both shoulders. "It was fun staying with you for a whole month. And the kids also had fun."
"I'm going to miss both of them."
"And honey, I know I did a lot of things I shouldn't have done. I made you lose the competition," Mom no. 1 said apologetically.
"Don't worry about it. I was also at fault. I should have told you and them sooner," I broke off and sighed.
"I'll... I'll try to be better, Georgey," Mom no. 1 said, rambling with the words. "I know I haven't been the best mom to you. I know you already have Hannah and you treat her like your real mother. I can't go back and do everything right, but I want to be at least someone in your life."
"Mom," I said, calming her down. "I already got used to the fact that I have two mothers. There's no need to feel like a stranger to me."
"I'm sorry for everything, Georgey. I'm sorry for being a bad mother to you and the twins." Mom no. 1 started crying. "I'm really sorry."
I sighed. "Good news is, it's not too late. You can still start over with the twins. Just focus on them while they grow up. As for me, we can just continue where we left off. I'm already eighteen and have my own life now."
She held on tightly to my hands. "I'm so glad that you've grown up so well."
"I had a lot of help," I said to her. "So what are your plans?"
"Roger and I are going to try fixing our marriage. He promised to take me back if I would attend therapy sessions," Mom no. 1 continued. She never looked more sober, and I was glad for this improvement.
"I hate to say this, but I think he's a great guy to some degree," I admitted.
"If he could take me back despite what I did, that has to mean something," Mom no. 1 replied. "Since we had the twins, he always tried to be a better person. Come on, Georgey. Roger already put our luggage in the car. It's a shame we couldn't say goodbye to your dad and Hannah."
"They went on a date. They said it has been a while." I laughed.
"They make a good couple. I'm also glad that your dad got married to her," she finally admitted.
"Same."
"Are you finish saying goodbye to George?" Roger closed the trunk of the minivan. The twins were peacefully sleeping in the car. I would also miss them. They made the house exciting, less clunky.
"We already talked," Mom no. 1 replied.
Roger asked, "Can I have a word with George before we leave?"
"Go ahead. I'll just wait in the car," said Mom no. 1, enveloping me into another hug, before kissing me goodbye. "See you soon, honey."
"Be good," I said to her.
"I will," she said.
Roger walked a little way from the car. I followed him, since he said that he wanted to talk to me. He stopped in front of the empty lot next to our neighbor's house.
"You okay?" I took the initiative to say the first word, since he didn't seem to know where to start. I wondered if asking how he felt was too much. "I heard you're going to help Dad start his car rental business. Thank you."
Roger shook his head, putting his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. "Your dad needed the help. But the real reason why I did that was for you. I have no better way of saying sorry for everything that happened in the past."
"You didn't have to do."
"Let me do at least this much. And here, take this," Roger said, getting something from his pocket and placing a white envelope in my hand.
Realizing what was inside the envelope, I quickly declined, "I can't. Look, it's okay. You've already done so much by helping my dad."
"Take it, George." Roger pushed back the envelope to me. "I know it won't amount for anything, but it's all I could give you."
I knew it was money. Plenty of it. But I couldn't take it. "No, really. I can't."
"Treat it as a compensation for what your mother did. For destroying everything."
"You don't have to make up for it." I shook my head lightly.
"I want to. I can't do anything except for this. And if I hadn't been a jerk, I would have been your stepdad. And as your stepdad, it's my obligation to take care of you as well," Roger said to me.
"I don't know. It just doesn't seem right."
"I insist. Take it. You can pay me back later if you want. But for now, you know you need it. Go and buy your books. I heard you still haven't bought them."
"I use the library all the time."
"You still need to buy some books. We can start being a family, George. I know your mother would also love for you to visit her sometimes. It would lessen her worries," Roger said.
"Could I?"
Roger nodded. "Of course. The twins would also like that."
"Then I guess I will see them during breaks," I said. Since I knew he wouldn't take back the envelope, I added, "And thanks for this. I'll get a part time job soon and pay you back."
"If that's what you want," Roger said, uneasily clearing his throat. Then he started walking back to their car.
Following behind him, I apprehensively put the white envelope in the back pocket of my pajama. I was still wearing one, because I woke up late and ended up having breakfast for lunch. There was one thing bothering me for a while now. So before he reached their car, I hesitantly asked, "Why did you take her back?"
Roger stopped from walking and looked back at me.
"Why did you take Mom back?"
He looked thoughtful. "For the same reason why I did that terrible thing to you before. They said it was because of love. And we have the twins. We also have to think of them."
"That's why you can't give her up?"
"It's more of a second chance, George. Because people like us never get it right the first time. I think it was your bodyguard who told me about it the other day."
"Ah," I said. "Figures."
Roger shrugged. "We'll get going."
"Wait, Roger. If something... if my mom does something stupid again, be sure to take care of Jerald and Jessie, all right?"
"I will. Don't worry," Roger assured me. "Until next time, George. Take care of yourself."
"Thanks. You too," I replied.
Roger got in the minivan, and Mom no. 1 opened her car window and waved at me. I stared at the departing car, long enough to think about what it would be like for them. Hoping that Mom no. 1 would really change for the better, I placed my bet that the twins would finally have a mother who would care for them. And if it wouldn't work that way, at least I knew that their father was responsible enough to not make them grow up too fast.
A diligent reporter, who worked for a gossip blog and never missed a moment of my life since the announcement of the princess search winner, took a picture of me. After another week, the usual five reporters had become one.
And before I had the chance to give it a thought, I waved at him. As if to say hi. I was also surprised with what I did. But it also seemed to be the right thing to do. We had been seeing each other for months now, literally. I felt acquainted with him for some reason. And I actually liked this guy, since he didn't bother me with useless questions, nor had written false claims about my existence.
The reporter also waved back. "Good afternoon, Princess! Just woke up?"
"Yeah, I was studying 'till morning," I replied.
He nodded.
"You have a class this afternoon, Princess?" Jack asked, as Roger's minivan was out of sight.
Putting my arms behind my neck, I replied, "I have English 1 at two o'clock. We should go, or I'm going to be late."
It was already one fifteen in the afternoon, so I took a quick shower, put on the first pair of clothes I'd seen in my closet, brushed my teeth, and combed my hair. Jack didn't drive at a walking pace, and we arrived at the university on time.
English 1 was my only class for the day, and the track and field practice had been cancelled. Every muscle in my body ached just by going to school, but I couldn't afford to be lazy. I told myself that in an hour and a half, I'd be back home.
Half-running, half-walking, I was careful not to bump into anyone. Out of all the days to be tardy, the classroom was in the farthest building in the campus. To make it even more interesting, it was located on the fourth floor and the elevator was overloaded. Sadly, I had no choice but to take eight flights of stair.
"Slowly, Princess." Jack noticed that I was striding every two steps of the stairs.
"Slowing won't get us anywhere, Jack," I said, catching my breath. "But at this rate, I will be soaking with sweat in class."
"Too bad for the one beside you," Jack chuckled, keeping up with me.
I laughed.
When we reached the fourth floor, I looked at Jack's sports watch. I only had three minutes. I counted the seconds in my brain with every step. Two minutes when I saw the door of our room.
I made it.
All our practice at the track and field team paid off. Our team captain would have been proud of me. For running late and catching up. Yes, not the thing one should brag about.
I was about to reach for the doorknob, when someone said, "Hey, stranger."
Oh.
No.
I closed my eyes, disbelieving the recognition with his voice. Sweat was dripping down my face, and I hadn't even had the chance to wipe them. And as much as I wanted to drag the moment, I couldn't be late. Having left with no other choice, I had to talk to him.
"Tell me there's a valid reason for this," I said.
"A hello would have been nice, stranger," Art, who was sitting on the window sill, replied. His lips curved upward, and I could see that he was very delighted about this whole thing. He jumped down from the window sill and took a step forward, straightening his camouflage shirt. A ball cap with the school logo kept his hair in place.
"Hi?"
We were the only ones in the hall, since most of the rooms on this floor were laboratory facilities and it was normally empty during Saturdays. And Art must have snuck out from the palace, because I couldn't spot a single bodyguard.
"But I see that you're in a rush," Art pointed out.
"I'm late. For class," I replied. My breaths became heavier, and it was definitely coming from some other place. "I'll just... go to class. I can't fail it. So, um, yeah, I'll go."
"Sure." Art nodded.
He actually let me off.
So I just went inside my classroom, and I instantly regretted it. I knew I should have at least asked what he was doing here, but I couldn't even think straight. Why didn't I talk to him? What if that was my last chance and I blew it? I was too ashamed to even playback in my head what had just happened.
The professor was already starting her lecture when I came in. The only reason she didn't see me slipping in quietly to class was because she was writing something on the board.
As far as attendance was concerned, I was present in the class. But I knew full well where my mind was. Art had sent my mind into disarray, and my feet were itching to get out of class and see if he was still there or not.
What was he doing here? Did he come back to school earlier than expected? Should I have talked to him? What would I say? Did he leave? What should I do?
Thinking things over, I didn't realize that Jack didn't come inside the classroom with me. But where was Jack? Were they talking to each other? Was Art still outside? Did he fetch Jack? Would it also be the last time I would see my yoga buddy?
I was tempted to text Jack where he was, but the English professor greatly forbid us from using our cell phones while in her class. I relentlessly tapped my fingers on my desk, worried.
When the lecture had ended, I was the first one on my feet and out of the room. I couldn't afford another minute of not knowing what was going on. So I rushed out of the door, and my eyes instantly searched where I'd last seen Art.
Nobody was there.
Art had already left, and disappointment readily dawned to me. Maybe he was also in a hurry.
I sent Pete multiple texts about what had happened.
saw Art before class..
didn't do anything decent..
and my face was dripping with sweat because i was running late and the elevator's overloaded.
friend, tell me again how to look fine.
U did? Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
i love how supportive you are, you know?
Of course. U can count on me. Hahaha did you bump into each other?
I paused, giving it a thought. It didn't seem to be the case. Unless this window sill used to be his favorite hangout spot.
nah, he was sitting on the window sill in front of my classroom
do you think that was a coincidence?
Nope. If he was there, he was waiting 4 u.
why did you say that?
Because guys r like that. We're too lazy to even make up a plan or create drama. What's your plan when you see him again?
what makes you think i'll see him again?
U will.
At exactly three thirty, Jack also sent me a text message:
Sorry to leave you by yourself, Princess. Prince Art didn't bring any bodyguards with him.
Don't worry.. nobody attacked me in class or anything.
did you go back to the palace?
Someone cleared his throat behind me.
I turned around and saw Jack, holding his cell phone. He put it back in his pocket and said, "Prince Art wanted me to pick you up."
"Did his bodyguards arrive?"
"He went to the canteen. He's currently lined up at the ice cream stall. It's pretty hot today, Princess," Jack explained, as we were heading down. I didn't know why, but I actually sighed in relief when I heard that he hadn't left. This was a bad sign for someone who was insisting that she was moving on quite well.
Jack was about to lead me to the elevator, but I opted for the stairs. He had noticed and probably guessed why, but he didn't comment. Poker face as he was, Jack only followed me as we trod the steps again.
"Prince Art said he would be waiting downstairs," Jack informed me.
I nodded, continuing to walk in silence. Getting down the stairs was easier compared to going up, yet my heart was oddly out of sync. When we arrived on the second floor, I halted from walking. I didn't even know what I would say to Art. Congratulate him for the upcoming coronation?
I held on to the railing to steady my breath. "Jack, did Art tell you why he was here?"
"We usually don't ask for things like that, Princess."
"He didn't mention anything?" I asked again. "Did you notice anything unusual about him?"
"My opinion wouldn't change the reason why he was here, Princess. One should hear in order to know. What you see is only a manifestation of what is going on inside a person."
I resolved to think instead.
"Princess?" Jack asked after a while.
"Give me a moment."
"We should move along. I'm taking up too much space," Jack indicated.
"It's a free country."
"Well, I'm sorry to say this, Princess, but it's not that simple when I'm not a student here. Especially since I'm your bodyguard and a public servant," Jack said softly.
"I could sense what you're doing, Jack. Just give me a moment. I have to be prepared."
"I do not have any other motives, Princess," Jack replied. "People are bumping us from all sides."
I disbelievingly stared at him. We'd only been bumped once, when a group of five came down the stairs. They were talking loudly, so they didn't notice us standing there. But I gave up, and said, "Okay, we move along. Let me torture myself."
Art was holding two ice cream cups. That was the first thing I'd noticed, aside from the fact that a group of girls had recognized him and were asking to take pictures with him.
There had been squealing.
I didn't want to interrupt, so I waited until they were finished.
One of them had noticed me, mostly because of Jack's presence, and asked Art, "Are you here to see George? That's so sweet."
Art looked up and saw us. "Hey!"
Clacking my tongue, I hesitantly went down the stairs. This answered the question of why he was here. It was to see me. Pete was right. If the ice cream cup that he handed to me first thing was any indication. It was strawberry flavored, by the way.
"My date's here," Art said to the girls. "Have to go."
I felt uneasy that he had referred to me as his date, when he was about to be betrothed to someone else. He could have just said that I was his old friend. That would have sounded more acceptable.
"Have fun," they wished us.
"We're so jealous, George," another teased.
I half-heartedly smiled. When they left, I asked, "What date?"
"This," Art implied to us. He added, as we were walking to the university field, "I heard your practice got cancelled, so I thought this would be the best time to drop by."
"You did?" I repeated. "From?"
"Jack, of course," Art replied nonchalantly.
I looked over my shoulders to Jack. "You told him?"
"Oh, he told me a lot of things, George," Art said. I eyed him suspiciously. Jack uneasily cleared his throat, pretending to be scanning the area. Art raised his spoon, adding, "It's not what you think. I'm only guilty of asking how you are doing, if you're okay, about school, and such."
"Which means you know everything?"
Art swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay, most of everything."
"Like?"
"For example, your biological mom and stepdad leaving earlier today. I think that will answer how recent the information are." Art avoided my eyes.
Now I was thinking that Jack was sanctioned to watch over me as Art's personal news flash. I unhappily dug my spoon into the ice cream. Art knew more than what I wanted him to know, for sure. I had never filtered my actions and thoughts with Jack.
This was betrayal.
When we reached the bleachers, Art crossed his arms over his chest and leaned sideways against the railing, carefully staring at me. I raised an eyebrow in response, wondering what his problem was. Changing positions, he stood up, shifted his weight to his left, and placed his right hand over his hip.
"Okay, I'm lost. What are you doing?" I finally asked.
"Posing seductively and trying to win you back with my body," Art replied.
"I must have missed the cue." I ended up helplessly laughing.
He joined in, saying, "I should work on this. Come on, let's go and find a seat."
"The bleachers are empty," I pointed out to him. "We have no games this afternoon."
"I also kind of heard of that."
"Which is why you've brought us here?"
"The university is always the best place to talk. The students here are used to royalties and are also sons and daughters of prominent people. They hardly bother anyone. Unlike outside, where we're always chased by reporters. Good thing we're attending the same school," Art replied.
"Lately, only one reporter has been following me around."
"You must have loved that."
"Sort of."
We were silent for a while. I pretended to be busy finishing up my ice cream, wondering what I should say to him. This was the reason why I never wanted to be friends. I knew that it was an outright lie. Like saying, 'I still love you, so let's talk about the weather.'
"Love's only holding on to your position," Art suddenly said. Out of surprise, I dropped my ice cream spoon to the floor. "I know. You won't easily believe that. But it's what she's been doing in order for your position to not be taken away by the second runner-up."
"I don't believe that," I blurted out.
"I expected you not to," Art said calmly. "Well, not at first. That's why I wanted to tell you the whole story."
I asked again, as if he couldn't see the obvious, "Are you sure it's not just an act? Like are we talking about the same person?"
"I'm sure the palace also checked, no?"
"But..."
"Give my story a try, George."
I exhaled in frustration. "I'm starting to get oblivious to what she's up to lately. She texted me the other day. It was out of the blue. She said I should trust her."
"She asked for your number last week. We've been all over the news. She was worried you might believe them," Art replied. My eyebrows met in confusion and disbelief. Art went on, "The first time we'd been formally introduced, we didn't talk much. We just sat there and listened to them explain that this would be the set-up for the meantime."
"And then?"
"A few days later, having no other choice but to keep each other company, she started telling me stories about you when you were young. How you used to stand up for her whenever she was being bullied because of her snaggletooth. You always knew how to punch someone, she said. That I shouldn't push it too far, or I would end up with a broken nose," Art said, picking up the spoon I'd dropped and placing it inside his empty cup. Then he put it down beside him, clasping his hands together as he placed his feet on the bleacher below us.
"She was always telling that story," I commented.
"She said it was because the story was what had pressed to her when she was with Robin. She regretted what she did, but she was too proud to take back everything and ask for your forgiveness. Love said a lot of her pride was on the line, and she didn't want to back down."
"There had been a lot of opportunities."
He smiled. "Recently, Love had always thought of ways to make it up with you, after she saw what she had traded you for. She said it was the wake-up call when she saw Robin's true colors. What did you two even like about that guy?"
"When we're young and naïve, we always have a thing for assholes," I enlightened him.
"Of course," Art said with a laugh. "And she also said that she didn't expect you to believe her right away. She just said that she was trying to do things better now."
"A public apology sounds nice," I muttered. "Kidding, of course. It was high school. The airtime would never be enough for everyone else who needed one."
"She's not that bad."
"I hope that is also true."
"Let her do her part. In the end, you be the judge."
I nodded, giving in to his proposition. "The coronation is in two weeks. Are you excited about it?"
"No."
"Can't you at least fake some enthusiasm, since it would mostly involve you?" I incredulously replied.
"I don't know who will be there, but there has to be someone. And every day, I'm wishing it will be you," Art told me.
I asked, "What if it's Love?"
"We have a plan," Art told me.
It wasn't the answer I'd expected to hear. I echoed back, "A plan?"
"The verdict was supposed to come out a few weeks ago, but Bridge was holding it back," Art said instead.
"Can I ask what the verdict is?"
"I like you best when you're wearing your most comfortable clothes." Art got down on one knee—not to propose. He tied the loose shoelace on my left shoe. "Is this fate or what? You're also wearing these red sneakers."
"Coincidence. My white pair is in the washers," I said, and my cheeks flushed.
"There." Art also did the other one, before taking a seat beside me again.
"I thought we broke up. What's will all these?" I asked him, preventing my feelings from getting swayed. A small hope could end all previous resolve.
"Think about it. What if you'll be reinstated?" Art asked quietly.
"That's just a mere speculation."
"It's a probability, George."
"You didn't even call," I drifted away from what he had asked. To be fair, he was clearly doing the same thing a while ago. There were just some things that you'd rather leave out in a blur, because you knew what the answer was and you disliked saying it.
"You told me I was prohibited to call you."
"Which was probably why you just showed up?"
"You didn't tell me not to do so. You just said no call or text or email. And that you're not good with friends." Art enumerated with his fingers.
"I did say that. Specifically, the part that I'm not really good with us acting friendly. Not now."
"Oh, we're not friends," Art said.
"Then what are we doing?" I asked for some explanation.
Art gave it a thought. "We're nothing. Like strangers nothing."
"Absurd."
"Then we're strangers who know each other a lot. Like strangers who see each other often. Strangers who..." Art also realized what he was about to say. He left the words hanging, and just said, "But the very important thing is, we're not friends."
"Well, if you insist," I said humorlessly. "Can I ask you something and can you answer it?"
"Can I also do the same?" Art replied right away. "Do you still love me?"
"What?" I almost fell down from where I was sitting. He didn't seem to be kidding, nor had laughed way long after the cue.
"It's okay if you don't want to answer."
"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"
"Because there are also things I can't answer right now," he explained.
"I was just going to ask how bad was the chaos that I'd created," I told him, breathing in. That question really hit the wrong nerves. But I'd always loved this side of him. How he always said what was on his mind and stayed true to himself. This was probably why I was drawn to him.
To be who you were. Be judged for it. And never waver.
Art smiled. "Bad enough for them to ask me not to see you. Or call you. It was actually the same things you said."
"As expected."
"So I snuck out. How can I not see you? Sorry it took a while."
Shaking my head, I said, "No, don't do this. I meant when I said we shouldn't see each other for a while."
"No, you didn't," Art replied, cutting into my thoughts. "It took a while for me to come and find you, because Love and I had been busy holding on to your position. She was the only person who was willing to cooperate with me on making things as uninteresting as possible. She said we had to be boring, no chemistry, and every act of togetherness would have to look forced. So that they would compare us to when I was with you."
"Was this the plan?" My mind didn't register what he had said. Love had agreed to this?
"We planned this by ourselves, although Bridge had already seen through it. We were so willing it was hardly believable. And it was easy putting our plan into action, because in reality, we didn't have even an ample amount of chemistry and we knew that," Art added.
"I didn't know." I wasn't sure whether to act touched or be cynical. Lately, all around me, people were giving each other second chances to make things right.
Art took my hand and buried my forefinger to the side of his thumb. "You can share your thoughts and pain with me now. Feel free to have my thumb anytime. Don't keep it all to yourself. You're not alone anymore. You have to trust people to help you, George. Even the last person on earth you could think of has a heart."
"Except for Robin. There are no apparent signs that he would change."
"Oh, he's an exception," Art agreed.
Instinctively, I tightened my hand with his. "I'm not sure what to do. This is wrong for me. I shouldn't be holding your hand."
"Let's invalidate the break up."
"What?"
"Okay, here's the deal. We will not break up until the coronation. Until it's official that we can't be together anymore," Art said, his eyes deep and thoughtful.
Reluctantly, I shook my head. "That sounds a lot like self-mutilation."
"What if you will not be disqualified?"
"And what if I will?"
"Then we'll break up."
"Think about it. That would be so depressing," I told him, taking my hand from his. "Enough. Let's just pretend we didn't talk about this."
"I have something in mind, George. But it won't work if you don't want to be with me as badly as I want to be with you."
"Tell me. What is that plan?" I asked him, exasperated.
Shaking his head, Art agonizingly asked, "Don't you want to stay with me? Even if it will just be for a day?"
I didn't answer.
"That's it? You don't?" he asked again.
I bit my lower lip, refusing to give him an answer. "What do you want me to say?"
"You just can't risk it, no?" Art asked lifelessly. After saying that, he stood up and went down the bleacher, leaving me behind.
"Art!" I called him. When he was gone, I quietly said, "I do. I just don't want to pointlessly hope."
I was the wildcard, the unpredictable bet. But I was a bet. Why couldn't I give it my all and make the most out of the chance that had been given to me?
"Princess," Jack said softly, taking a seat beside me.
"Don't you have to go with him?" I asked, feeling tears welling up my eyes. Since it was only Jack, I let the tears fall. "He might get... I'm sure it's not that safe if he will go back to the palace after being spotted by the students. News travels fast."
Jack replied, "I already called for back-up. They're waiting for him at the front gate."
"Oh, then... then that's great..."
"Princess," Jack said again. "What is it that you really want to do?"
"I don't know, Jack," I said. "It's so easy going with what I'm feeling, but I know it's worthless to hope for nothing."
"Princess, hope is when we look forward to tomorrow without prior assurance that it will be all right. We just know, like the way the sun will always shine. And we push through with that hope, letting it guide us when the pressure's on and it's easier to give up. Because we know that everything will be all right. You might be crying now, but you would eventually find a reason to smile the next day. If not the next day, the day after," Jack said.
Wiping away the tears from my face, I told him, "I was wrong. All I thought about was the easy way out, and Art's doing his best to reach out to me. Is it too late, Jack? Have I really done it?"
"When you run, don't you give it all you've got until you reach the finish line? No matter what will be the outcome, you will do your best. Because when you give it your all, Princess, you know that your heart will be at ease."
"That's true. You have to give it your best, or you won't be able to forgive yourself if you get defeated." I slowly stood on my feet, wiping the tears and thinking it over. They said love was a courage that could break fears. When fears started burning out the candles, love would sometimes create a wildfire.
"Princess?"
"I hope it's not yet too late," I said to Jack, before running to catch up with Art. It was as if I was catching up to the last train ride that I was waiting for all my life. It would leave without me, but I knew I had to get on it. Because I knew it was the only place I wanted to be.
A crowd had already formed at the front gate entrance. I couldn't see him. Standing on my toes and pulling my hair away from my face to get a clearer view, I anxiously searched for Art. Spotting two black cars, I wondered if he was already inside.
The security personnel from the palace got out, and they were parting the crowd. I pushed my way through. He must still be here if they were also looking for him. When I looked again, two men in suits had secured Art's location. Art held his cap down, and they were leading him to the car.
"There's still time, Princess." Jack made way for me, and he led me along. He took his radio out from his pocket and said, "Hold the car."
Before I'd realized it, the crowd had been divided into two and we were in the middle of it. When he saw me, it was as if the whole world was a bullet train that had arrived at its station—slowly, slowly it came to a gradual stop.
We were dazed and drowning in thousand of different emotions. And as the speed of light in a vacuum could never contain these feelings, they made the world around us stop.
No need for magic wands. Only him and me.
"I want to stay with you, even if the most we'll get is a day. Can I do that?" I confessed, unsteadily walking towards Art. He was already outside the school gate and was near the car. With an understanding smile, he reached out a hand to me. I started running to him without hesitation. Grabbing on to his hand, we collided. And then I looked up, saying, "I want to spend that day with you."
"Say it again." He took off his cap and let it fall to the ground.
Holding on to the sides of his shirt, I said, "I think I'm madly in love with you. And here's the thing, I'll tell you this again and again. Because I just do. Sometimes, all you have to do is to be true to yourself. You've taught me that."
And then his hand cupped my chin, pulling my face to his. "So we're together again?"
"For today. Hopefully, also for tomorrow," I whispered.
"Good," he replied, before meeting my lips. The world around us was so loud and bold, but I couldn't hear a single word they said. All I knew was that I loved the way his hands were in my hair and his lips on mine. I loved how I had to stand on my toes and how he leaned in to meet me.
We were two people who stepped out of our comfort zones to make it work. This was the only way for us to be together. When they said that love was magical, it didn't mean it had to be ripped off from a fairytale book. Love was enchanting because of what it could make you feel. Feelings that you didn't even know existed inside you, one by one, they came alive. A re-awakening might be exaggerating it. It wasn't even there before. But like golden fairy lights, small as they were, together they made sense as a whole. And they were impossible to miss, for they were so beautiful against the winter midnight sky.
When we broke off from the kiss, Art caressed my hair, telling me in a hushed voice, "This is exactly the plan, my princess."
And the lights flashed.
Hundreds of it once again.