HIS PRINCESS

CHAPTER 18

Back in the dorm, Kiara stepped out of the room just as Viola was tying up her shoelaces.

“Library's first class?” Viola asked, slipping her phone into her bag.

Kiara nodded, grateful for the normalcy. “Yeah.”

As they walked side by side down the hallway, Viola glanced once at Kiara’s carefully buttoned blouse, then looked ahead again without saying a word. She didn’t offer comfort or judgment—only space to breathe.

Kiara kept her eyes low as she walked, tugging at the high neck of her blouse. It felt strange—tight around her throat and unlike anything she usually wore. Her fingers kept drifting up to check if the fabric still covered the hickey on her neck. Her steps were small, careful, like someone trying not to draw attention.

Too late.

"Look who finally decided to dress like a normal person," a sharp voice called out.

Tyler Eduardo Jr. leaned against a row of lockers like he owned the school. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, tie loose, hair gelled perfectly out of place.

Kiara froze for a split second.

"I almost didn’t recognize her," Kester added, grinning. "Thought we had a transfer student from Sunday service."

Diego chuckled under his breath. "Somebody hiding a love bite?"

Kiara blinked. "It’s cold," she said quietly, though the hallway wasn’t cold at all.

Tyler stepped forward with a fake thoughtful nod. "Sure. And I wear scarves in summer too."

Kiara tried to walk past him. Tyler shifted to block her path, not touching her—but close enough she had to stop again.

"Hey," he said, his tone mock-gentle. "No need to be shy. We’re just wondering who the lucky guy is. Must’ve been wild."

"Leave her alone, Tyler."

The voice came from behind them. Viola.

She walked up with a lopsided backpack slung over one shoulder and a look that didn’t need shouting to hit hard. She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t frowning either.

Tyler turned, unsurprised. “Always a pleasure, Viola.”

Tyler was undeniably handsome. The kind of handsome that never needed effort. Which made Viola want to throw a punch at his face.

"Yeah, I get that a lot from people with nothing useful to say," she said, eyes flicking briefly to Kiara.

"Relax," Kester said, raising his hands. "We were just chatting."

"You were running your mouth," Viola corrected. "As usual."

Tyler gave a short, humorless laugh. “Always quick with words, Viola. Maybe if you spent less time playing bodyguard, you’d actually be interesting.”

Viola didn’t answer that. She just looked at Kiara. “You good?”

Kiara gave a small nod, still holding the edge of her sleeve.

“Cool,” Viola said, then turned to go. “Come on or we would be late for library class.”

Kiara hesitated, then followed, her steps still cautious, but steadier now.

Behind them, Diego muttered something under his breath and laughed. Tyler didn’t laugh. He just watched them walk away, his expression unreadable.

Kester gave him a sideways glance. “Man, I think she’s hiding something.”

“Obviously,” Tyler said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “We’ll figure it out.”

---

Ariana had not closed her eyes once through the night.

The quiet beep of machines, the sharp smell of disinfectants, and the image of her grandfather lying unconscious had replayed in her mind on a sickening loop. She had wandered from one corner of the hospital to another until her legs ached, until her thoughts burned a hole in her chest.

Earlier that morning, the doctor had spoken again.

“We need a deposit by noon,” he said flatly, not unkind, but not gentle either. “Otherwise, we’ll have to withdraw the ventilator support. There’s nothing more we can do.”

The words had landed like glass shattering against her spine. Ariana stood there, lips parting to speak—but nothing came out.

Now, hours later, the sky outside was bright and bustling, but everything inside her felt dim. She dragged herself through the hospital lobby like someone who had already lost. Her coat felt heavy, her steps automatic.

Then, just as she turned the corner toward the exit—

“Ariana?”

The voice was warm, surprised and deep.

She looked up.

“Derick?”

He hadn’t changed much. Slightly taller than she remembered, a little leaner, but still carrying that casual swagger he was known for. He wore a grey hoodie under a checkered coat, his hands tucked in his pockets, a pair of dark glasses perched lazily on his head.

His smile was easy, familiar.

“Wow, it’s been forever,” he said, eyes scanning her face like he wasn’t quite sure if it was really her.

“Yeah,” she managed, blinking.

They’d known each other years ago—back when things were easier. He had always been the wild one. Flashy cars, loud laughs, reckless flirting. But behind all that, there was always a strange softness in the way he treated her. Not romantic—just… unfiltered kindness. A kind she missed now more than ever.

“Derick!” a voice interrupted from behind him.

A girl. Pretty, glossy, annoyed. Her red nails clutched a takeaway cup of coffee and her tone had a bite to it.

“I’m freezing,” she complained. “Can we go?”

Derick glanced over his shoulder and gave her a quick nod. “Two seconds.”

Turning back to Ariana, he smiled again—so casually it stung. “Let’s talk soon, yeah? I’ll text you.”

Before she could say anything, he was already jogging back to the girl, throwing an arm around her shoulder like nothing had happened. Ariana watched them walk off through the automatic doors, their laughter trailing faintly behind.

She exhaled slowly.

It was just a coincidence. But somehow, it felt like something more. A crack of light through the wall she’d been banging her fists against for weeks.

She didn’t dare believe anything would come of it. But still… she pulled out her phone as she reached the bus stop and typed, hands trembling slightly from the morning chill.

Ariana R:

Didn’t expect to run into you. You look slimmer. Or richer. Either way, hi.

She hesitated, then hit send.

---

The message didn’t deliver immediately. The signal was bad, or maybe the universe just wanted her to suffer a little longer.

She got on the bus, pressed her head against the window, and let the rumble of the engine dull her thoughts.

It wasn’t until she was almost home—standing in the dim stairwell outside her apartment—that her phone finally buzzed.

Derick B:

That sounds like someone who’s about to ask for a favor 😏.

Ariana stared at the message, tired lips pulling into a crooked smile.

She didn’t reply right away.

Her phone slipped back into her coat pocket as she made her way up the narrow stairwell. She moved slowly, dragging her steps like someone walking through a thick dream. Outside, the city buzzed with early morning rhythm—bikes clattering, vendors setting up shop—but in here, everything was still.

The second floor was dim as usual. A strip of light from a faulty hallway bulb flickered overhead.

As she reached her unit, her eyes caught something strange.

The door across from hers—Apartment 20B—was cracked open. Just slightly. Barely enough for a cat to slip through. Ariana slowed down.

That was Phoebe’s place.

The same Phoebe who had packed her bags three months ago and disappeared after saying her uncle in Inner Mongolia had fallen ill. She hadn’t told many people. Just whispered something vague about needing to go home for a while and left before sunrise. Ariana had assumed she wouldn't be back this soon.

Now… the door was ajar. A faint line of shoeprints trailed from the threshold—light, dusty, like someone hadn’t swept since they got in.

Ariana tilted her head, listening for any movement or sound but heard nothing. Just the hallway creaking under her own weight.

She thought about calling out. Then decided against it.

Not now. She had other things to figure out.

Sliding her own key into the lock, she stepped inside her apartment. The air was still. Her curtains hadn’t been drawn, so sunlight had spilled across the tiny kitchen counter and the small folding table where unopened bills were beginning to pile.

She took off her jacket slowly and sat on the edge of the bed, letting the silence gather.

Only then did she pull out her phone again.