SPARK,SHOCK AND A YES
1831 Words
Elsa’s mother opened the door, still drying her damp hands on her apron, and froze when she saw her daughter standing there—smiling too widely—and a tall, unfamiliar man beside her. Before the woman could even form a question, Elsa grabbed Prince Adams’ hand and tugged him inside as if dragging him across a finish line.
Prince Adams followed, his brows pinched together in blatant confusion. He had expected a calm introduction, not this rushed entry that felt like he had stepped into the wrong house by accident. His steps slowed as he looked around the modest living room, unsure if he was supposed to speak or stay invisible.
Elsa’s mother shot her daughter a sharp, questioning look—eyes narrowed, lips forming a silent "What is going on?"
Her father, who had been sitting at the dining table, halfway through a spoonful of tea and bread, paused midair. His hand stopped. His jaw tightened. He looked at Elsa as though she had just marched in holding a live grenade.
"Mum? Dad… this is Prince Adams," Elsa said with a voice too bright to be natural. "I know you’ve spoken to him on the phone already. He is my fiancé, and I love him so much. We’re getting married in a few years’ time, and I’m so glad." She forced a laugh. "So you see, Dad? See how easy it was to get the love and attention of a rich man?"
She looked between them desperately. "Mom? I don’t regret this."
Silence fell like a heavy curtain. The air thickened. Even the ticking wall clock seemed to hold its breath.
Her father’s spoon trembled slightly before he set it down. Her mother stared blankly, stunned into speechlessness. Prince Adams remained still beside her, his confusion deepening with every second of the awkward quiet.
"He’s my fiancé, and I’m excited," Elsa repeated, her smile twitching now, refusing to die even though it clearly wanted to.
She waited for it—the moment her mother would burst into laughter and say, *Alright, enough, you got us,* explaining that she had only gotten Prince Adams to play along so Elsa would stop saying she’d marry a rich man just to avoid job stress. That had to be it. It had to.
Elsa looked at her father. His expression had shifted—still serious, but not shocked anymore. His eyes were searching her face, almost as if he were trying to figure out whether she had truly thought this through.
She turned to her mother. Her expression was sharper—surprise mixed with suspicion, her lips pressed into a thin line. Not a hint of playfulness.
Then she looked at Prince Adams. His expression was unreadable—steady, quiet, focused entirely on her parents instead of her. He didn’t look like someone acting in a prank.
Finally, Prince Adams spoke.
His voice was deep and steady, a warm baritone that filled the room and anchored everyone’s attention.
"Sir," he said, addressing Elsa’s father, "I want to marry your daughter."
He took a breath and added —I intend to marry her."
Elsa’s father stood up. "Elsa, we need to talk. Now."
Her heart dropped. "Dad? Why are you serious? Why isn’t Mom saying anything? Her voice cracked, thin with worry.
Before she could follow her father, her mother finally spoke.
"Why do you want to marry our daughter?" she asked Prince Adams directly.You two come from different worlds. You’re rich, and she’s not."
Prince Adams straightened slightly, as if called to attention.
"Yes," he said softly, "I saw her only yesterday at my best friend’s wedding. But for the very first time, I felt something I have never felt before—something I didn’t believe I could ever feel again after losing my grandmother."
His voice thickened with sincerity.
"She reminded me of warmth. Of peace. Of hope I thought I no longer had. I’m ready to love her, and to make her the happiest."
Elsa turned to her father and saw him smiling—gently, approvingly—despite the earlier shock. Her mother was nodding now, almost impressed, as if Prince Adams’ words had softened something deep inside her.
Elsa blinked rapidly. None of this made sense. Why were they taking it seriously? Why were they acting like this was real?
“Erm… Mom? Dad?” she asked, eyes darting around the room. “Where’s the camera? Did you keep a hidden camera here?”
Her mother scoffed. “Camera? Did you see me holding a camera when you left this house?” she snapped, clearly annoyed.
Prince Adams smiled quietly.
Her father clasped his hands behind his back and asked, “So, if we are to agree to you marrying our daughter—since she has already confessed she loves you—when is the wedding? Because most rich men date ladies for years, get them pregnant, and only marry them afterward. Not with my daughter.”
“Next week,” Prince Adams replied without hesitation. “I want to marry her next week.”
“Whaaaattttt!” Elsa screamed, staggering backward.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
Her mind spun.
Her palms grew cold.
This… this was never a prank in the first place.
The truth hit her like a blow.
Her parents’ serious faces.
Prince Adams’ steady voice.
The silence in the room.
This was real.
Terrifyingly, impossibly real.
Elsa’s father cleared his throat and gestured toward the living-room chair.
“Young man, come and sit. Let’s have a man-to-man talk,” he said, already walking ahead as if the decision had been made for Prince Adams.
Prince Adams followed obediently, still wearing the polite confusion he had carried since stepping through the front door. Elsa’s mother, meanwhile, widened her eyes at her daughter and flicked her head toward the kitchen with the urgency of someone signaling a secret military operation.
Elsa slipped into the kitchen and halted. There were pastries everywhere—on the counter, in trays, stacked on cooling racks, even invading the top of the microwave. More pastries than her mother had ever made on any morning since the dawn of pastries.
“Mom… why all this?” Elsa asked, blinking.
Her mother grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her closer, practically vibrating.
“Orders! Elsa, orders!”she whispered loudly. “All the guests at the wedding you delivered the cake to yesterday—do you know how many people took my number? Look at all this! I’ve already made more money in less than twenty-four hours than I usually make in two weeks! Elsa, your mother is rising! RISING!”
She spun in a little excited circle, waving a piping bag like it was a magic wand. She kept talking—about the money, about her future bakery, about how Daniel and Emmy’s wedding had changed her life—and talking and talking, her voice bubbly, her feet tapping the ground like she couldn’t contain the joy boiling inside her.
Elsa smiled… until the memory hit again like a slap of cold water.
Prince Adams had just told her parents that he wanted to marry her. Next week.
NEXT. WEEK.
When she had thought the whole thing was a joke. A harmless prank. Something she could laugh about later.
Elsa leaned closer.
"Mom, I need to tell you something—"
“Oh! That reminds me!” her mother cut in, snapping her fingers. “When your dad and I called you last night in Prince Adams’ house and he said you spent the night there because you slept off in his car, your father and I… well… we googled him.”
She grabbed her phone with the speed of someone producing evidence in court.
"Look.”
She thrust the screen into Elsa’s face.
Elsa read silently. Her eyes widened. Then widened more. Her eyebrows inched up her forehead like they were trying to escape.
He wasn’t rich.
He wasn’t wealthy.
He was a multimillionaire.
Her fingers began scrolling so fast she nearly broke the touchscreen. Her mother snatched the phone back before she cracked it completely.
“Yes, yes, you wanted to say something?” her mother asked, tucking the phone behind her like it was contraband.
Elsa stared at her mother, her face frozen in a hilarious tug-of-war between shock, fear, calculation, panic, and admiration.
“Elsa?” her mother called, waving a spatula. “What did you want to say earlier?”
Elsa swallowed.
“Erm… Mom… yh, yh… I erm… I wanted to tell you that you would have to make a LOT of tasty pastries because next week… the world is coming to my wedding.”
Her voice came out half-dazed, half-dreamy, as if her brain was still buffering the revelation of who she’d been with for the last four hours.
Prince Adams wasn’t a normal guy.
He was a business mogul.
A miracle.
A walking upgrade to her entire family tree.
Her mother, delighted, simply smiled and returned to her creaming, humming like a woman preparing to bake her way into generational wealth.
Elsa turned slightly and saw her father and Prince Adams in deep conversation—serious, focused, father-to-future-son-in-law stuff. She faced her mother again, her heart pounding.
Was she ready for this new life?
She thought about her father, who dragged himself home every evening with body pains from his school-bus job. He would finally rest.
She thought of her mother, cramped up in this tiny kitchen. Prince Adams could build her a real bakery. A big one. With machines. And space. And AC.
Was she agreeing to marry him for love… or for money?
Her face drooped into a frown. She tried to snap herself out of it.
Then she remembered the first moment their eyes met. That soft, unexpected spark she felt in her chest. The one she had told herself wasn’t real.
Just then, her father and Prince Adams walked into the kitchen.
Her father stepped to her and took her hand gently.
“Elsa, my daughter,”he said, voice deep and earnest. “Are you sure you want to marry this man? After speaking to him, I see he’s a good man. He can give you the life you’ve been wishing for. But I won’t allow this wedding next week unless you are ready. So… tell me. Do you want to marry this man?”
Elsa looked at Prince Adams.
His expression was hopeful but tense; his eyes held a softness that almost pleaded for her answer. Her mother had paused mid-cream, smiling like she already knew what her daughter’s heart would choose.
Elsa inhaled shakily.
Then she looked Prince Adams straight in the eye.
“Yes, Dad… I… I want to marry him. I’m ready.”
Prince Adams exhaled slowly, relief flooding his face like sunrise.
And Elsa felt her world tilt into a new future she had never seen coming—but one her heart quietly accepted.
- Writer
