Chapter 6

Max's room was a world of its own—a mixture of chaos and creativity. Alex wandered in, his fingers grazing the spines of notebooks and sketchbooks stacked haphazardly on shelves. Paintings leaned against the walls, their vibrant colors dimmed by the soft evening light streaming through the window. Alex felt as though he had stepped into Max’s mind, surrounded by fragments of his thoughts and emotions.

He picked up one of the notebooks and opened it at random. His eyes fell on a poem written in precise handwriting, its language dense and layered with meaning. He tilted the book towards the light, reading aloud:

The river bends where it ought to break,

Carving stone with whispers, not roars.

Each curve a choice, each drop a wound,

The weight of loss flows, endless, unbound.

As Alex’s voice faded, he glanced over at Max, who was sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him.

“This is… intense,” Alex said, lowering the notebook. “It feels like there’s something hidden in every line. Did you write this?”

Max nodded, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I wrote it when I was eighteen. Right after my father passed away.”

Alex’s expression softened. “Your father?”

Max gave a small, almost hesitant smile. “He was the only one who truly understood me. He didn’t just love me—he saw me for who I really was. Losing him… it felt like the ground had been pulled out from under me. That poem came from all of that.”

Alex looked back at the notebook, flipping to the next page where the poem continued. “It’s beautiful, but also… complicated. What does it mean?”

Max leaned forward, his voice quieter now. “It’s about grief. The river is a metaphor for it—grief doesn’t stop, doesn’t pause. It just keeps moving, carving its way into your soul. The tree is me, trying to grow even when everything around me feels empty.”

Alex stared at him for a moment, then back at the notebook. “That’s… I don’t even know what to say. It’s heartbreaking, but also incredible. You were eighteen when you wrote this?”

Max chuckled softly. “I had a lot of feelings back then.”

Setting the notebook aside, Alex picked up another one, this one thinner and marked with doodles along the edges. “What about this one?”

Max’s face lit up slightly. “Oh, that’s from when I was 14. My poetry wasn’t exactly deep back then.”

Alex flipped through the pages until he found a short poem, its language simple and earnest.

The sky was brighter when you walked by,

A little laugh, a little sigh.

I didn’t know what this could be,

But your smile felt like home to me.

Alex grinned as he read it. “Your first crush, huh?”

Max flushed, his ears turning pink. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. I didn’t even know what I was feeling back then—I just knew I liked seeing him happy.”

Alex leaned back in his chair, looking at Max with an amused smile. “You’ve been a romantic all your life, haven’t you?”

Max shrugged, his smile shy but warm. “Maybe. But don’t tell anyone, okay?”

Alex laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

♥︎

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting an amber glow over the palace grounds. Max stood near the grand entrance, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. The royal family flanked him on either side, their poised expressions a stark contrast to the emotions swirling in Max’s chest. He hadn’t expected the day to end like this—with a heavy sense of longing he didn’t fully understand.

Alex stood a few steps ahead, exchanging final pleasantries with Julien. His voice was steady, formal, yet tinged with warmth.

“Your Majesty,” Alex said, inclining his head respectfully. “We will provide our response to your proposal within the week. Should it be more convenient for you, feel free to send your reply within the same time frame.”

Julien nodded, a faint smile on his face. “That is agreeable. We will await your response.”

Alex’s gaze flickered briefly to the rest of the family, his eyes landing on Max for the briefest of moments. Max held his breath, but Alex said nothing, only offering a polite bow before turning toward the waiting carriage.

Max’s chest tightened as he watched Alex bid farewell to the others. His brothers exchanged handshakes with Alex, and even Mary offered a faint nod of approval. Yet Max remained silent, rooted in place. What could he possibly say? He was just a prince—a young man bound by protocol and expectation.

The carriage door closed with a dull thud, and the horses began to pull the vehicle forward. Alex leaned out of the window one last time, offering a final wave to the gathered royals. Max managed a small, hesitant wave in return, his hand dropping to his side as the carriage rolled past the first gates.

As the vehicle disappeared from sight, the courtyard grew eerily quiet. Max stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the fading silhouette of the carriage as it passed through the last entrance of the palace grounds.

He hadn’t realized until now how much the brief time spent with Alex had affected him. The day had been filled with fleeting moments—shared conversations, quiet glances, and a warmth he couldn’t quite place. And now, as quickly as Alex had arrived, he was gone.

Max swallowed hard, his throat tightening with unspoken words. He felt an ache settle in his chest, a longing that felt both unfamiliar and unwelcome.

“Max,” Julien’s voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” he replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.

“Let’s return inside. There’s much to discuss.”

Max nodded, tearing his gaze away from the now-empty road. But as he followed his family back into the palace, he couldn’t shake the image of Alex’s departing carriage, nor the inexplicable sense of loss it left behind.

☆

As they walked back into the palace, Julien turned to Max with a thoughtful expression. His voice broke the silence as they stepped into the grand hall.

“So, Prince,” Julien began, his tone neutral but expectant, “what do you think we should say? Should we accept this proposal?”

Max hesitated, his gaze lowering to the polished marble floor. A part of him wanted to be cautious, to hold back, but another part—the one that replayed Alex’s words and actions from the past day—urged him to speak from his heart.

After a moment, he looked up, meeting Julien’s eyes. “From my side… it’s a yes, Your Majesty.”

Julien regarded him for a moment before nodding. “Alright, then. That’s the answer we’ll give.”

Hearing those words brought a flicker of happiness to Max’s heart, but it was quickly overshadowed by a wave of fear and doubt. What if Alex wasn’t as genuine as he seemed? What if this was all just a show, a fleeting moment of kindness that would fade over time? His mind spiraled with possibilities, each one more unsettling than the last.

Julien seemed to notice the shift in Max’s demeanor. He placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, his voice gentle but firm. “Max, not everyone is like the last one, okay? People are different—they have their own ideologies, their own mindsets. Maybe Alex is actually a good person. You’ve seen it yourself, haven’t you? The way he stood up for you in front of Mary? The way he treated you yesterday?”

Max nodded slowly, his thoughts returning to Alex’s kindness, his sincerity, and the way he had spoken to him with such genuine admiration.

Julien smiled faintly. “Sometimes, we have to take a leap of faith, Max. Maybe this time, things will be different. Maybe Alex really is the person you’ve been waiting for.”

Max took a deep breath, letting Julien’s words sink in. “You’re right,” he said softly, more to himself than to Julien. “I hope for the best.”

Julien gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder before continuing down the hall. Max lingered for a moment, looking out one of the palace’s grand windows. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the horizon.

He didn’t know what the future held, but for now, he held onto that glimmer of hope, trusting that maybe, just maybe, Alex truly was different.