Her true love

My love ask me what you want and it will be given to you without hesitation please it's all on my bills the one you fall in love with is the crown prince himself It was on Monday when the sun was about to close its eyes , l had to meet her but l got an urgent message from my body guard and l missed the chance of holding her again in my hands for life and this was because l thought that her love for me was on a swing anytime it breaks but the little did l know about her mind set the love for me was true she wanted for me at the river side for a week but l didn't show up to show my sincerity to her instead l scold her and dumping her as a waste and never turning to have a look at her for the last time but the words she said to me always make me feel guilty saying " Luo Ning Yung you will never see me again and l will never meet you in my life for sure." Now she hates me and she has no love for me The weight of Luo Ning Yung's past words crashed down on him with the force of a collapsing palace. "Luo Ning Yung, you will never see me again, and I will never meet you in my life for sure." Her pronouncement, delivered with a quiet finality that had chilled me to the bone that fateful Monday evening, echoed in the opulent chambers of my royal dwelling. Each passing day was a relentless reminder of my arrogance, my misjudgment, and the precious love l had carelessly discarded. The fact that l was the Crown Prince, heir to a powerful kingdom, now felt like a cruel irony. l could command armies, influence nations, and possess unimaginable riches, yet the one thing my heart truly desired – the forgiveness and love of the woman he had so foolishly scorned – remained utterly beyond my grasp. My royal status, which l had perhaps subconsciously believed would always be enough to win her back, now stood as a stark testament to my folly. Titles and power meant nothing to a heart l had broken. l had tried everything. Messengers laden with jewels that could ransom small kingdoms, scrolls filled with apologies penned in my own trembling hand, and promises of a devotion that now burned with the white-hot intensity of regret had been dispatched. Each mission returned with the same disheartening result: polite but unwavering refusals, the gifts untouched, the scrolls unopened. It was as if an invisible wall, built of her pain and my betrayal, stood impenetrable between us. l had attempted to seek her out myself, shedding the cumbersome weight of my royal identity like an unwanted cloak. Donning simple garments, l had ventured into the bustling heart of the capital, the very city where l had once taken her for granted. l haunted the familiar places they had once frequented – the fragrant tea houses, the serene gardens by the imperial lake, the vibrant night markets where her laughter had once mingled with the cries of vendors. But the city, once a shared landscape of our burgeoning love, now felt vast and indifferent, holding her hidden like a precious gem l could no longer locate. Each familiar corner l turned only amplified her absence, the ghosts of our shared moments mocking my present solitude. My bodyguards, a constant shadow in my privileged life, had initially been the unwitting messengers of my neglect, delivering the urgent summons that had torn me away from their intended rendezvous. Now, they witnessed my quiet despair, their stoic faces etched with a mixture of pity and apprehension. The bustling court, once filled with my decisive pronouncements and the eager anticipation of my future reign, now echoed with my hesitant inquiries, my voice laced with a vulnerability they had never witnessed. Every report, every piece of news that filtered through the palace walls, was meticulously scrutinized for any mention, any whisper of her whereabouts, her well-being, her current life. The riverbank, the place where she had waited for him with unwavering devotion for an entire week, became a place l could no longer bear to visit. The gentle lapping of the water, once a soothing melody, now sounded like a constant accusation, a melancholic reminder of him callous disregard. l could almost see her figure standing there, silhouetted against the setting sun, her hopeful gaze fixed on the path l had failed to tread. The phantom image haunted my waking hours and invaded my restless sleep. Time, the supposed healer of all wounds, seemed only to deepen the chasm between them. Each sunrise served as a fresh, agonizing reminder of my missed opportunity, each sunset a poignant symbol of their extinguished connection. The vibrant colors of my life had leached away, replaced by a monotonous gray that mirrored the emptiness in my heart. The weight of my crown felt heavier with each passing day, not as a symbol of my impending power, but as a constant reminder of the true treasure l had so carelessly lost. Rumors, like insidious vines, began to creep into the palace, carried on the whispers of merchants and travelers. They spoke of a woman of remarkable grace and quiet strength, a woman who had emerged from some unknown sorrow with a newfound resilience. Some whispered of her artistic talent, her paintings capturing the very soul of the landscapes she depicted. Others spoke of her philanthropic endeavors, her quiet acts of kindness touching the lives of the less fortunate. And then came the whispers that pierced my heart like poisoned arrows – murmurs of another's admiration, of a gentle suitor who recognized her worth, who saw the brilliance l had so blindly ignored. l understood now, with a clarity born of agonizing hindsight, that her love for me had not been a fragile, fleeting thing, easily swayed or discarded. It had been a deep-rooted tree, nurtured by sincerity and unwavering devotion, and my callous words had been the sharp, brutal axe that had felled it. The swing he had imagined was not hers, but my own fickle heart, easily swayed by unfounded fears, clouded by arrogance, and crippled by a profound lack of faith in the depth and sincerity of her affections. The crown, once a symbol of my future glory and the culmination of my noble lineage, now felt like a heavy, suffocating burden. Its intricate goldwork seemed to mock me, reflecting my opulent surroundings while my inner world lay in desolate ruins. It was a constant, glittering reminder of the true treasure l had lost – a love that valued me for myself , not for my title or my power. l , the Crown Prince who could command armies, who held the fate of my kingdom in my hands, was now utterly powerless against the invisible walls of a broken heart. l was a prisoner of my own past actions, haunted by the ghost of a love l had deemed disposable. Her words, once a sting of hurt pride, had solidified into an immutable truth, a self-imposed exile from the only heart that had ever truly mattered. The path back to her was not just difficult; it felt impossibly, irrevocably closed, shrouded in the impenetrable darkness of my own making. Weeks bled into months, and the vibrant hues of spring gave way to the languid warmth of summer, then the melancholic beauty of autumn. The kingdom continued its rhythm, oblivious to the silent storm raging within its Crown Prince. l performed my duties with a mechanical precision, attending state functions, consulting with advisors, and making royal pronouncements, but my heart remained a desolate wasteland, my thoughts perpetually circling back to the woman l had lost. My advisors, noticing my persistent somberness, urged me to consider my future, to think of a suitable consort, a princess from a neighboring kingdom who could secure alliances and produce an heir. They spoke of duty and lineage, of the stability of the realm. But their words fell on deaf ears. How could l even contemplate another relationship when my soul still ached for the one l had so carelessly destroyed? The idea of holding another woman in my arms, of offering my heart to someone else, felt like a profound betrayal of the love l had so foolishly rejected. One crisp autumn evening, a royal decree arrived from a distant northern kingdom, announcing the upcoming marriage of their princess, a woman renowned for her intelligence, her artistic talent, and her philanthropic endeavors. The name of the princess sent a jolt of icy dread through my heart: it was she. The rumors had been true. She had not withered in her sorrow; instead, she had blossomed, her inherent worth recognized and cherished by another. The thought of her in another man's arms, of her bestowing her radiant smile upon someone else, was a torment he could barely endure. The finality of her words, once a distant threat, now loomed before me as an unyielding reality. l would never see her again, not as my beloved, but as another man's wife. Desperation clawed at him. He considered defying protocol, of sending a final, impassioned plea to her, begging for a second chance. But a flicker of my former arrogance, now twisted with shame, held me back. What right did l have to intrude upon her newfound happiness? l had cast her aside, deemed her love unworthy, and now she had found someone who appreciated her. To interfere would be selfish, cruel even. Yet, the thought of never seeing her again, of her living her life, building a future with another, was a torment that gnawed at my very soul. He was trapped in a self-made prison of regret, the bars forged from my own foolish actions. As the date of her wedding drew closer, the kingdom buzzed with preparations for the arrival of the northern delegation. l Luo Ning Yung found myself caught in the machinery of state, forced to participate in the ceremonies that would celebrate the union of the woman l loved with another man. Each detail, from the selection of gifts to the arrangement of the استقباليات, was a fresh stab of pain. l imagined her radiant in her bridal gown, her eyes sparkling with a happiness that l would never again inspire. l pictured her exchanging vows with a man who had seen her worth, who had cherished the love l had so carelessly thrown away. The thought was unbearable, yet l was forced to endure it, a silent spectator in the unfolding tragedy of my own making. The day of the wedding arrived, a day of pomp and ceremony, of joyous celebrations that felt to l Luo Ning Yung like a cruel mockery of my inner turmoil. l stood beside my father, the King, my face a mask of regal composure while my heart shattered into a million pieces. The northern delegation arrived, a procession of elegant carriages and richly attired nobles. And then, she appeared. She was even more breathtaking than l remembered. Her eyes, once filled with a hopeful tenderness when she looked at me , now held a serene strength, a quiet confidence that radiated from within. She moved with a grace that captivated the entire court, her presence illuminating the grand hall. As she walked down the aisle, her gaze met my for a fleeting moment. There was no hatred in her eyes, no lingering resentment, only a distant acknowledgment, as if l were a figure from a long-forgotten dream. It was a look that cut deeper than any accusation, a silent testament to the fact that l was truly gone from her heart. l watched the ceremony unfold, each word of the vows echoing the promises l had broken. l saw the gentle smile she had.