Ops! Esta imagem não segue nossas diretrizes de conteúdo. Para continuar a publicação, tente removê-la ou carregar outra.
Rory
"Are you sure you have to go?" Lucas asks, looking up at me as I button my shirt back up, stealing a quick glance at my reflection in the mirror.
With a swift adjustment to my hair, I nod in response to my boyfriend's question. "Yeah, I'm sure," I assure him, leaning in to kiss him gently. "My dad mentioned he has something important to tell me. We're meeting for lunch." There's a hint of nervousness in my voice, wondering what news awaits me.
As much as I'd love to stay wrapped up in his arms, duty calls, and I need to face whatever my father has to say. With a lingering embrace, I reluctantly pull away, grabbing my bag as I head out the door. The uncertainty weighs on me as I make my way to meet my father, but I know I can't delay any longer. Whatever it is, I'll face it head-on.
The midday sun casts its warm glow over the bustling streets of the city as I stroll toward the quaint café where I am to meet my father for lunch. Dressed in a simple ensemble, from the day before, my hair cascades over my shoulders, catching the sunlight like a halo around my face. Despite the usual rhythm of the city, my mind buzzes with anticipation, tinged with a hint of apprehension.
As I approach the café, I spot my father sitting at a corner table, his familiar figure exuding an air of both authority and warmth. His presence, however, fails to dispel the unease that gnaws at my insides. Today is no ordinary lunch; my father has hinted at important news, news that he insists cannot wait until dinner.
"Hi, Dad," I greet him with a smile as I take my seat opposite him.
"Ror," he smiles. "I'm sorry to throw such a wrench in your day but this really couldn't wait."
"What is it," I ask, growing concerned that something is wrong.
My father, a distinguished man with a twinkle in his eye and a demeanor that commands respect, regards me with a mix of affection and solemnity. "There's something I need to discuss with you," he begins, his voice measured yet tinged with emotion. "It's about my upcoming marriage."
My heart skips a beat as I process his words.
Marriage? Did he say marriage?
My father has been a widower for years, content in his solitude and dedication to his work as a renowned diplomat. He loved my mother. The idea of him remarrying seems unfathomable, and yet here he is, about to unveil a seismic shift in our lives.
"To a queen," my father adds, his gaze steady as he awaits my reaction.
"A queen?" I echo, my mind struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what I have just heard. I have always known my father moves in influential circles, but the notion of him marrying royalty borders on the surreal.
"Yes, Rory. Her name is Margaret. Queen Margaret," my father explains, his tone tinged with a mixture of pride and uncertainty. "She reigns over the kingdom of Eldoria, and we've grown quite fond of each other over the last months."
I sit in stunned silence, my thoughts whirling like a tempest within me. Queen Margaret—a name that carries with it a weight of responsibility and expectation unlike anything I have ever known.
Months. He said months.
As I absorb the shocking revelation about my father's secret relationship with a queen, a whirlwind of emotions floods my mind. Betrayal, confusion, and disbelief intertwine, creating a knot of uncertainty in the pit of my stomach. How could he keep something of this magnitude hidden from me for so long?
Questions swirl in my head, each one more pressing than the last. Did he not trust me enough to confide in me? What does this mean for our family? And, perhaps most dauntingly, what implications does this revelation have for my own life and future?
As I try to process the weight of this newfound knowledge, I can't help but feel a sense of unease creeping over me. Everything I thought I knew about my family, about my father, suddenly feels called into question.
"You must have a few questions," he breaks the silence between us.
