Falling for her highness

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨Evelynne's pov୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The sound of the carriage wheels faded into the distance.

I remained where I stood, my arms limp by my sides, my cheeks wet and burning. The cold stone beneath my slippers bit into my toes, but I couldn't move. It felt like if I did, I'd shatter

I had screamed.

Begged.

And he had still left.

my breath hitched as I covered my mouth with trembling fingers, my eyes locked on the palace gates, as if staring hard enough could call him back.

But he was gone.

And it felt like something inside me had gone with him.

"Evelynne," a soft voice called gently behind me.

I turned slightly, barely able to focus, only to see my mother, Queen aurelia, approaching with quiet grace and worry etched across her delicate features.

Without another word, the queen wrapped her arms around me, drawing me close. I didn't hesitate—I collapsed into her, burying my face in my mother's shoulder like I had when I was a child and woke from nightmares. Only this time, the nightmare was real, and wide awake.

"He didn't say goodbye," I choked.

"I know, sweetheart," My mother whispered, stroking my hair, her own voice heavy with sadness. "He couldn't."

I clutched her tightly, my cries softer now but no less broken. "He left me, Mother. He really left me."

"I know," My mother said again. "Let it out. Let it all out."

For a moment, it was just us — mother and daughter, pain and silence.

But then footsteps approached.

Rye.

He stood nearby, uncertainty flickering in his usually smug expression. His father had already gone back inside with the king, leaving him alone at the edge of the courtyard.

"I… I didn't know he was leaving tonight," Rye said quietly, his voice low and cautious. "If I had known, I—"

I looked up, my face streaked with tears, eyes distant and disbelieving. "He didn't even tell me," I whispered. "He told no one."

Rye stepped closer. "He didn't want you to stop him."

I turned away, wiping at my face with my sleeve. "Then he's a coward," I muttered.

Rye paused, then sat beside me on the garden bench just outside the hall. "He's a fool," he said, more firmly now. "For walking away from someone who loves him like that."

My eyes flicked toward him at the word love, but I didn't answer. The ache was still too big. Too fresh.

My mother touched my hand gently. "Come inside, darling. You're cold."

I nodded slowly and stood, but not before taking one last glance toward the horizon.

The sun had finished setting.

And Rowen was gone.

Rye offered me his arm, and though my fingers hesitated, I took it.

But nothing felt the same.

Not the warmth.

Not the silence.

Not the way my heart beat — slower now. As if waiting for something that might never return.

My mother followed closely behind me, her silk gown sweeping over the floor, but I stormed ahead, my hands clenched at my sides, my eyes red-rimmed and wild with tears.

My father had already entered through the opposite door, his expression heavy, his hands folded behind his back like a man carrying the weight of far more than a crown. "Evelynne," he called softly,

"Don't!" I snapped, spinning around just as they entered my room. "Don't try to explain anything to me!"

"You kept it from me," I said, my voice cracking. "You knew he was leaving. You knew, and you let me stand there—like a fool—begging him to stay."

The queen stepped forward gently. "We didn't want to hurt you, Evelynne. Rowen made the decision—he asked that we let him go without telling you—"

"Then you should have refused him!" I screamed, tears spilling again. "He belongs here! With me!"

My father exhaled slowly. "He wanted to serve the kingdom. He wanted to make you proud."

"Well, I'm not proud!" I shouted, the words tearing from my chest. "I'm not! I'm furious. I'm broken. I—I hate all of you for letting him go!"

I backed away, bumping into the edge of my vanity, my breaths coming fast and uneven.

My mother reached out, but I jerked away from her touch.

"I don't want your pity. I don't want your comfort. You think because you wear crowns, you can decide who I get to keep in my life?" My voice was barely above a whisper now, but somehow the quietness was even sharper. "You took him from me!."

"Evelynne," the king said sternly now, stepping forward, "You are still a princess. You will not speak to your mother this way—"

"Then maybe I don't want to be a princess anymore!" I cried, my voice rising again, more desperate than angry now. "What is the point of being royalty if I can't even keep the one person who's always been mine?"

Silence.

My mother's eyes welled up, but she stayed still.

And my father… his firm expression faltered just slightly.

"Please," I said in a broken whisper. "Just leave me alone."

They didn't argue.

They didn't try again.

They simply turned and left—closing the door behind them as quietly as they could, even though they knew it was too late.

Inside my room, I sank to the floor.

I pressed my forehead against the cold marble, hands wrapped around myself, the ache in my chest pulsing like a second heartbeat.

I didn't know how to be in this palace without him.

And for the first time in my life…

I didn't want to.