Christopher's P.O.V.
For the first time, I kissed her—and she left a spark in my heart.
Her red lip glitter shimmered in the moonlight, a vivid flash from a dream—real and so alive.
But then she pulled away and slapped me.
I apologized for kissing her, but I would never apologize for loving her.
And I would not give up on her. So I left.
She stood there, stunned, her hand still trembling from the slap.
I didn't wait for her to say anything else—I couldn't.
My heart was thundering too loud in my chest, echoing with confusion and sadness.
The night air was cold as I walked down the street, but my skin still burned where her palm had met my cheek.
It wasn't the pain that stung—it was the look in her eyes. Anger, yes, but also fear that she slapped me again.
I reached the end of the street and stopped under a flickering lamplight, breathing hard.
I could still taste her lips in mine.
I closed my eyes, touched my own lips, and smiled.
'I love you,' I had said it without meaning to—but it was true. It had always been you.
I went home and lay in bed. It was late, but I was restless.
So I got up, got dressed, and headed straight to Felicity's house.
When I knocked on the door, a middle-aged woman answered.
"You must be Christopher. Please come in. I'm Felicity's mom, Joy," she said, her voice warm but curious.
"Thank you. It's wonderful to meet you," I replied, kissing her hand and stepping inside, unsure what to do with my own hands. I stuffed them into my jacket pockets.
"Such a gentleman," she said.
The house smelled like vanilla and cinnamon—so comforting.
Family photos lined the Polaroid wall with string lights, each one capturing a different season of their lives.
I caught glimpses of Felicity in a few—laughing, smiling, growing. Her mother clearly loved decorating.
"Please, why don't you sit?"
I nodded and took a seat on the sofa. My legs bounced with nervous energy. Joy sat across from me, folding her hands in her lap, her eyes kind but observant.
"I've heard a lot about you from Felicity. You're so handsome," she said.
"Thank you so much. And you too—you're beautiful beyond words. You look a lot like Felicity," I replied.
"Why, thank you. She didn't tell me much, but I could see she was upset," she said gently. "Mind telling me what happened?"
I swallowed and told her everything—how we met, everything that had led to tonight.
"I kissed her. I didn't plan to. It just—happened. And she slapped me. Twice. But I don't mind," I said.
Joy didn't flinch. She just listened.
"I told her I loved her. And I do. I always have. But I scared her, I think. I didn't mean to. I just needed to make sure she's okay… but she isn't here, is she?"
There was a pause. Then Joy gave a small, understanding smile.
"She isn't here. She's always been guarded with her heart. You probably know that better than I do. But the fact that you're here, worried about her… that says something."
She stood up. "I'll let her know you stopped by. She might need a moment."
"Okay, ma'am. I'll take my leave," I replied.
"Wait a minute, I have an idea," she said, suddenly lighting up.
"Why don't you pretend that you're drunk? I know you love her, and I can see you're a gentleman. Let's see how she reacts."
"That's a terrible idea. I can't drink—and I'm not about to start."
"Pretend, you dumbass," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Oh! Okay. That might work. I'll be right back," I said, then exited.
*********
Felicity's P.O.V.
As we stepped inside, I was dumbfounded. The outside was just a preface—inside is where the beauty truly lay.
"Shut the front door—wow, wow!! Someone pinch me because I'm dreaming. This place is gorgeous. It's… it's extraordinarily exquisite. Wow! What kind of place is this? It's so beautiful, inside and out. I'm gonna have a heart attack!" I said, taking it all in.
"Hey, hey, calm down, please. Have a seat. I'll be back," Penelope said.
I sat down but couldn't stop looking around. I was mesmerized. Everything was so beautiful.
I stood up and touched the couch, the gorgeous tables, the walls, the chandelier—everything. It was so elegant. I truly thought I was dreaming.
They had a 55" LED TV and a HiFi sound system. The living room had two attached rooms and was massive, with fancy chairs. It was a sight for sore eyes.
If the living room looks like this, how will the rest of the house be? I thought to myself.
I had forgotten everything that happened earlier today.
I was worried about Mom, but she knew her way around, and besides, she had been to my apartment before.
The only thing on my mind now was to live a fancy life for a few hours and enjoy myself.
Good thing I dressed up.
My excitement was short-lived when Penelope's parents came downstairs. I stood up and greeted them, but their response was... harsh.
"Good evening, Your Majesties," I said politely.
"Hmmm, so you're the girl our daughter has been spending time with. No wonder she changed so drastically. I didn't know she dealt with such low lives," her father said.
"Oh my goodness, my daughter deals with such riff-raff. Look at her! She isn't even dressed properly. Such low-class clothing," her mother added.
'OMG, they didn't just say that. I'm going to show them their place right now'.
"Mom, Dad, you promised to be nice. What the hell! Felicity, I'm so sorry," Penelope pleaded.
"It's okay, Penelope. With all due respect, sir, your daughter is my best friend, and this is how she truly is.
If you think she's changed, that means you don't really know your daughter.
Ma'am, it's highly inappropriate to insult a teenager who has done nothing wrong.
And just so you know—this is the fanciest dress I have in my closet, so you'll have to deal with it.
Besides, I didn't even know she was a princess until now," I snapped.
They both stared at me, stunned, while Penelope smiled.
Just then, a servant came and announced that dinner was ready. It was 8 PM.
"Let's have dinner," Penelope said.
Her parents walked to the dining room, but Penelope and I stayed behind. Soon, her little siblings came down the stairs.
"Hello, are you Felicity—the one we've heard about?" the girl asked.
"Why yes, you little cutie pies. What's your name?" I asked.
"My name is Isla," she replied.
"And you, little dude?" I asked.
"I'm not a dude. I'm a prince! My name is Nathan, but you can call me Nate. You're beautiful beyond words—you're my princess," he said dramatically and bowed.
"Oh, why thank you!" I said, laughing.
"You remind me of someone… Well, never mind that. Anyway, you two are so cute," I added. Nathan's dramatic flair reminded me of Chris.
"Well, thank you, Miss Felicity," Isla said, bowing.
"I've got to tell you something, Princess. You shouldn't call me cute. I'm a man, and men aren't cute. They're handsome and hot and—"
He wasn't finished when Isla interrupted.
"Okay, okay, Nathan, cut the crap."
"Hmm, feisty, aren't you? So hot," I said, joining in the drama.
"Oh, I'm going to love you, Princess," he assured me, then both of them ran to the dining room. Penelope and I laughed.
"They're just children. Okay, seriously, how old are they?" I asked.
"Well, they're both six years old," she replied.
"And they behave like adults—wow. They really are different from you," I teased.
"Told you! Alright, let's go have dinner before my parents rain fire and hailstone on us," she giggled.
"Oh, they wouldn't dare," I replied, laughing as we walked to the dining area.
When we got there, I was once again mesmerized by the beauty. Everything about the house was fancy and elegant.
To my surprise, they waited for everyone to be seated before eating.
At my house, we would've started eating already.
"So, Felicity, where are you from?" her mother asked.
"Well, ma'am—" I began, but she interrupted.
"Please, call me Aurora," she said warmly.
"Well, Aurora ma'am, I'm from Los Angeles, California," I finally answered. "Thank you, ma'am," I added, smiling, wondering about the sudden change in her demeanor.
Appetizers were served—cheddar soufflés. They were pretty tasty.
"Mmm, this is delicious," I said.
"Yes, our cooks do a great job," Penelope replied.
"So, we want to know your reason for this visit," her father said after finishing his appetizer.
"Well, for this visit, I do have a reason. But for future visits—I won't need one. She's my best friend.
My reason today is that I want to ask your permission for Penelope to come to school tomorrow so we can finish and submit our project.
Isn't that why you sent her to school in the first place? To learn, complete projects, have fun, and grow?
Why not let her do those things?" I asked.
"And who says she doesn't?" her mother challenged.
"Well, ma'am, the restrictions you place on your children are clear in their eyes.
And with all due respect, I think that's unwise.
According to my mom, children need to spread their wings and experience the world—not be cooped up.
That's how they learn valuable lessons. It doesn't mean they'll go astray. If you've instilled good values in them, they'll know right from wrong.
They won't learn from mistakes if they're never allowed to make any. I know I'm just a regular girl, and it's not my place to tell royalty how to raise their children.
But please, just consider what I've said," I finished.
Everyone was silent. Her parents looked at each other until Penelope broke the quiet.
"It's okay, Felicity. You've done your best. I know my parents well. They won't be stirred," she said.
"That means you don't know us well enough," Aurora replied softly. "We know we've been hard on you. Maybe that's why our first son left.
But it's because we love you and never want to lose you."
"Mother, not now—please," Penelope said.
"Oh yeah, you told me there are three siblings. Who is "he?" I asked, making air quotes.
"It's nothing, Felicity… He's my eldest brother. But I don't want to talk about it," Penelope replied.
I gave her a confused look but let it go.
The servant brought the main course. It was a dish I didn't recognize.
From the way I stared at it and hesitated to eat, they could tell I had no idea what it was.
"It's called Wholetail Scampi Caesar Salad. Try it—it's delicious. It's a British dish," Penelope explained, smiling.
I tasted it—and she was right. It was delicious.
"So Felicity, we've heard everything you said—and you're right," Grayson, her father, said.
"Maybe we act this way because we're getting older. But we'll consider your words."
"Father!" Penelope exclaimed.
"Are you saying you're old? Seriously, you don't even look a day over 40," I said, and we all laughed.