THE PRINCE I WAS NEVER MEANT TO LOVE

The glass vase slipped from my hand and crashed against the wall. I stared at the broken pieces scattered across the floor, my chest rising and falling as I tried to catch my breath. My hands were shaking, but I barely noticed. I grabbed a book from my bedside table and threw it across the room. “I won’t do it!” My voice broke as the book hit the wall. “I won’t!” I reached for another one, but my fingers stopped halfway. I suddenly felt too tired to throw anything else. I dropped onto my bed and covered my face, feeling the tears stream through my fingers. “How could they do this to me?” My voice came out weak as I tried to hold myself together. “How could Father just stand there and let them do this?” I wiped my face, but the tears wouldn’t stop. I had watched him downstairs. He had stood there while they spoke about my future as though I wasn’t even in the room. They had discussed my marriage, the family I was being given to, and everything that would come with it, while my father had said nothing. Not one word. He hadn’t even looked at me. I pulled my knees toward my chest, my heart aching as I whispered, “Is that how much you hate me?” I hated myself for asking the question, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. My father had never been affectionate toward me. He had always been distant, sometimes cold, and there were moments when I could swear he looked at me with something close to resentment. But I had still believed he would protect me when it mattered. I had been wrong. I looked around my room, taking in everything that suddenly felt like it belonged to a different life. My books, my clothes, the little things I had collected over the years. Everything I loved was here. This was the life I had built for myself, the only life I had ever known. And now I was expected to leave it all behind. For a man I had never met. I shook my head, wiping my cheeks with trembling hands. “No. I won’t marry him.” A knock came from the door. I froze. My heart immediately began pounding. Another knock followed, and I quickly wiped my face with the back of my hand, trying to steady my breathing. “Who is it?” There was no answer. I frowned and stared at the door, wondering who would come looking for me after everything that had happened downstairs. “Who is it?” I asked again, louder this time. The handle slowly turned. The door opened. My father walked into the room. His eyes moved slowly around the room. The broken vase on the floor, the books scattered across the carpet, the clothes I had pulled from my wardrobe in anger. His expression changed almost immediately, the disappointment on his face mixing with obvious disgust. “What is the meaning of all of this?” he asked, his voice cold as he looked at the mess. “You have turned your room into this because you didn’t like what you were told downstairs?” I didn’t care about the room anymore. The moment I saw him, I rushed toward him and grabbed his hand, my tears starting all over again. “Father, please,” I begged, holding onto him as tightly as I could. “You can’t do this to me. I won’t do it. I can’t marry him. I don’t even know him, and I don’t love him. How can you expect me to spend the rest of my life with someone I don’t even know? Please, Father, you have to stop them. You’re my father. You can’t just stand there and let them take me away.” He looked down at my hand with clear irritation before pulling it away from him. “Let go of me,” he snapped, his voice carrying the same coldness I had become used to hearing from him. When I tried to hold onto him again, he pushed my hands away and stepped back. “The decision has already been made. Stop embarrassing yourself and accept it.” I stared at him through my tears, unable to believe how easily he could say those words. “Accept it?” I cried. “You’re telling me to accept being married to a stranger as though you’re asking me to attend some family dinner. This is my life, Father. I’m the one who has to leave this house and live with him. I’m the one who has to wake up beside him every morning. How can you expect me to accept something like that simply?” His face hardened as he looked at me. “Because you have no choice. You are a princess of this kingdom, and being a princess comes with responsibilities. You don’t get to throw a tantrum every time something doesn’t go the way you want and expect everyone else to fix it for you.” I shook my head, my tears falling faster as I stared at him. “What responsibilities? What exactly am I supposed to be responsible for? Being sold off to a man I don’t even know just because our families decided that was convenient? Is that what being your daughter means? Is that what being a princess means?” The anger in my voice only made his expression darker. For a moment, his hand lifted. I froze. His eyes were filled with anger, and for one terrifying second, I thought he was going to hit me. His hand stopped halfway, however, and slowly lowered back to his side. His jaw tightened as he stared at me. “You will not speak to me like that,” he said through clenched teeth. “You have a responsibility to this kingdom, and whether you like it or not, you will fulfill it.” The strength left my body. I sank onto the edge of my bed, covering my face as the sobs finally became uncontrollable. “What responsibility?” I cried, looking up at him through my tears. “I don’t want to marry him. I don’t want any of this. I didn’t ask for it, and I didn’t promise anyone that I would marry a stranger. Why should I have to give up my entire life for something I never agreed to?” My father stared at me for several seconds before his expression hardened even further. “This wasn’t my decision to make,” he said coldly. “If you want someone to blame, then blame your mother. She was the one who agreed to this arrangement in the first place. She was the one who believed she could play peacemaker and solve a problem that should have been handled differently.” I slowly lowered my hands from my face. “My mother?” I asked, my voice trembling. “What did she agree to?” He looked away for a moment before answering, as though even speaking about it irritated him. “The Valmont Treaty. That is what you should be blaming, not me.” “The Valmont Treaty?” I repeated, still confused. My father turned toward the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he continued. “Years ago, our kingdom was on the verge of war with the Valmont family. Our relationship with them had deteriorated badly because of disputes over territory, trade, power, and political influence. I believed war was the only way to settle the matter, but your mother refused to accept that. She wanted peace at any cost. She wanted to be the one who brought both families together.” He paused before continuing, his voice carrying a bitterness that made it clear he had never agreed with the decision. “Your mother negotiated with the Valmont family and signed an agreement that would put an end to the conflict. Both families would stop fighting, the disputes would be settled, and peace would be maintained between our kingdoms. But that peace came with a condition. One of our daughters would eventually be given in marriage to the Valmont family as a bride. Your mother believed it was a small price to pay to prevent a war.” I stared at him, barely able to breathe. “And now I’m that price,” I whispered. My father didn’t answer immediately, and his silence was enough. “You are your mother’s only daughter,” he finally said, his voice flat. “The agreement was made with that understanding. She believed she was protecting the kingdom, and now you are expected to fulfill what she promised.” “But I didn’t promise anything,” I cried, getting back to my feet. “I wasn’t even old enough to understand what marriage meant. How can you expect me to pay for a decision she made before I even had a choice? I don’t want this, Father. I don’t want to marry him. I don’t care about some treaty or some agreement between families. I just want my life back.” His expression showed nothing but impatience. “I have heard enough,” he said firmly. “The decision has been made, and I am not going to stand here all day listening to you complain about it. Clean yourself up and stop making a spectacle of yourself. The maids will come and clean this room, but I expect you to prepare yourself for what is coming.” I stared at him, my lips trembling as I tried to hold back another sob. “Prepare myself for what?” I asked, even though a part of me already knew the answer. He opened the door and looked back at me, his expression completely cold. “Your groom will be coming in the next few days. Your husband-to-be will be here to take you away, so get yourself together and be ready. And I don’t want to hear another word about this from you.” Then he walked out and closed the door behind him.