Maya's POV
The night didn't pass. It dragged.
Sleep came only after hours of staring into the darkness, my thoughts gnawing at every inch of my sanity. The image of my boss's furious face, the silence that followed his words, the eyes of my coworkers—all of it looped like a broken record.
And when sleep finally took pity on me, it wasn't restful. It was the kind that left me more drained than before, like my body shut down from emotional exhaustion.
Ding-dong.
Ding-dong.
Ding-dong.
DING-DONG-DING-DONG.
A groggy moan escaped my lips as I cracked one eye open. What... what time was it?
DING-DONG.
DING-DONG.
"Okay, okay! I'm not dead!" I grumbled, stumbling off the couch like a zombie rising from the grave. My hair resembled a bird's nest. My shirt was crumpled and stained with last night's tears and regret.
Still half-asleep, I dragged myself to the door and swung it open.
And there she stood. Hands on her hips. Eyebrows arched so high they could fly away. Lips pursed in that you're-so-dead kind of way.
Lola.
Lola Hartley
My best friend since kindergarten. Fashion designer, chaos incarnate, flirty to the bone, and currently radiating rage with a side of glitter.
"ARE. YOU. SERIOUS. MAYA?" she yelled, pushing past me like she owned the place. "You text me you got fired and then go full radio silence for twelve hours? I thought you were dead! Murdered! Kidnapped by a psycho barista with a vendetta!"
I blinked. "You... traveled back already?"
Lola whirled around, eyes blazing. "OF COURSE I DID! What kind of bestie do you take me for? You drop a bomb like that and disappear? I tried calling you forty-seven times, Maya. FORTY. SEVEN."
"I was sleeping…"
"In a coma, apparently!" she shouted, throwing her arms in the air. "You didn't even text me back to say you're alive! I was about to call the police. Or worse—your mom."
I winced. "Okay, now that would've been overkill."
"Don't test me." She walked over to the kitchen and grabbed a half-empty bottle of water, muttering, "I swear if you ever ghost me like that again, I'll design a dress so ugly even your Instagram feed will block it."
Despite the ache still sitting in my chest, I let out a weak laugh.
Lola paused, her tone softening instantly. She placed the bottle down and walked over. "Hey... jokes aside, you okay?"
I looked at her, and just like that, the tears returned. Silent, hot, and fast.
"I... I don't know what to do, Lola. I messed everything up. I feel like such a loser."
Without hesitation, she pulled me into a tight hug, holding me like I was breakable glass.
"Shh. No, you're not. You're just in a plot twist, babe. You'll bounce back. We both will. You'll see."
I sniffled into her shoulder. "I think I hate coffee now."
She smirked. "Fair. But don't worry. I brought donuts."
"Wait... you brought donuts?"
Lola grinned and patted her large tote bag. "Do you even know me?"
Maya let out a soft chuckle as Lola dramatically pulled out a pink box of assorted donuts like it was a sacred artifact. The tension in the room eased just a little.
Soon, the apartment was filled with the smell of fried sweetness and comfort. Alongside the half-eaten chicken and the soft flicker of old lavender candles, the cozy chaos of their healing ritual took form. Maya and Lola curled up on the couch in oversized hoodies, legs tangled in a mess of blankets. The mood was mellow, the TV muted in the background, and Maya's head rested against the backrest—eyes dull, but just a little less heavy now.
The living room smelled like crispy fried indulgence and old lavender candles. Maya and Lola sat curled up on the couch in oversized hoodies, legs tangled in a mess of blankets. The mood was mellow, the TV muted, and Maya's head rested against the backrest, eyes dull but slightly less puffy.
"Remember that time in uni when you cried because your sandal broke in the middle of your 'I'm independent and strong' walk?" Lola grinned, raising her wine glass.
Maya chuckled softly. "I didn't cry. I was... emotionally overwhelmed."
"You were sniffling and yelling at the sky like a Greek tragedy," Lola countered, tossing a chicken bone onto the plate. "And then you tied that sad sandal with a charging cable."
"It worked," Maya shrugged, sipping her wine.
"For five minutes. Then you tripped into the café and took down a table of soy lattes."
That made Maya laugh—a real, breathy laugh, not forced or tired.
Lola leaned back with a proud smirk. "See? Still got it. The magical healing powers of food and humiliation."
Maya's smile faded as she stared into her glass. "But what now, Lola? I mean... the job was my only solid thing. I feel like someone just deleted my life plan and left me staring at a blank screen."
Lola turned serious, her brows softening. "You're allowed to feel lost, Maya. It doesn't make you weak. You're not a robot."
Maya sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest. "It just feels like... I'm falling. And I don't know if there's a bottom, or if I'll ever land."
Lola watched her for a moment, then suddenly shot upright. "Okay. Okay. No more poetic sad metaphors."
"What?"
"I wasn't gonna tell you yet," she said, rummaging through her giant tote bag, "but desperate times call for spontaneous chaos."
Maya blinked. "That's... definately not a phrase, but okey."
"Shush." Lola pulled out a colorful envelope with a dramatic flourish and handed it to Maya. "Behold. Our escape plan."
Maya opened the envelope. Her eyes widened. "Grand Adventure's Challenge? Lola, this is—this is huge. Isn't this like a luxury survival-meets-adventure thing? The one where people end up zip-lining off mountains and swimming with dolphins?"
"Yes! It's an elite travel experience-slash-reality show hybrid. Each participant gets teamed up and goes on wild mystery adventures for a week. No phones. No work emails. Just adrenaline, scenic views, and possibly a handsome stranger with an accent. I pulled some strings and got us spots!"
Maya's mouth fell open. "Wait. Us?"
"Duh. Who else do you think I'd drag into the jungle with me? I mean, yes, you're emotionally broken, but emotionally broken people make the best reality footage. It's like free therapy. With better outfits."
Maya laughed and shook her head. "Lola, I love you, but no. That's crazy. I can't go zip-lining through emotional trauma."
"Yes, you can. And you will. You need a break, not another spiral of sad playlists and existential bread baking."
"I'm not in the mood to—"
"To what? Heal? Feel joy? Possibly get a tan? Maya, babe, look at me." Lola grabbed both her hands. "You don't need to have everything figured out today. But what you do need is to breathe. Live a little. Remember who the hell you are."
Maya's eyes shimmered. "I'm... exhausted."
"All the more reason! You don't need a plan. You need a pause. Think of this like a timeout from the world. No pressure, no resumes, just you and nature and possibly a hot guide named Finn who smells like cedarwood."
Maya gave a half-smile. "That sounds oddly specific."
"Manifesting," Lola whispered, eyes wide.
A beat of silence passed. Maya stared down at the ticket again.
"I don't know," she said softly. "What if I come back and things are still just... nothing?"
Lola leaned her head on Maya's shoulder. "Then we make new somethings. Together. You've always had the spark, Maya. Let this adventure remind you how to light it again."
Another moment passed. Then Maya exhaled and let out a reluctant sigh.
"Fine," she said. "But if I die in the jungle, you better cry at my funeral in couture."
Lola squealed. "Deal! And I'll make sure the flowers match your aesthetic."
They clinked their wine glasses, laughter echoing louder now, the first hints of hope weaving into the air like sunlight through curtains.
King Lucian's POV
Royal Study, Aredenne Palace — 10:43 AM
The morning sun filtered through the arched windows of the royal study, casting long shadows over the mahogany desk littered with files, briefings, and the occasional cold cup of espresso. Lucian leaned back in the leather chair, undoing the top button of his shirt, eyes skimming the latest policy draft on land reforms.
The gala was a blur in his mind—music, flashes of cameras, champagne, hollow conversation. He had smiled. Nodded. Even danced once, purely out of courtesy. His mother had insisted, and saying no to Queen Eleanor usually came with a side of emotional guilt and a very long silence.
"Still sulking from last night?" came Sebastian's voice, casual and amused.
Lucian didn't look up. "I don't sulk."
"You do when your mother introduces you to Lady Arabella again, and you pretend you forgot her name."
"That woman once told me she'd name our future children after her horses," Lucian muttered. "Forgive me if I wasn't charmed."
Sebastian chuckled from where he stood, arms crossed by the window, dressed in the tailored uniform of the Royal Guard, though with his usual casual air of rebellion—collar slightly loosened, sleeves messily rolled. "Queen Eleanor's just trying to make sure the bloodline continues. She has Pinterest boards for your wedding, you know."
Lucian raised an eyebrow. "That's disturbing."
"It's real."
He finally looked up from his papers. "I'm not marrying someone just because their last name comes with a title or their family owns half of Europe. I'm not some antique vase to be placed in a showcase for royal alliances."
Sebastian smirked. "And yet, you let her parade you around like one."
Lucian gave him a dry smile. "Last night was diplomacy. This morning is reality. And reality says I have six back-to-back meetings, a report due to the council, and—" He pushed a paper across the desk. "—an itinerary for the Aredenne Adventure Summit, which I am most definitely attending."
Sebastian stepped forward, scanning the paper. "This again? You really plan on disappearing for a week to go paragliding, white-water rafting, and hiking with a bunch of adrenaline junkies?"
"Absolutely," Lucian said without hesitation. "No cameras, no suits, no fake conversations. Just mountains, rivers, and the kind of silence that doesn't judge you for not picking a princess."
Sebastian laughed under his breath. "You really think you'll escape the Queen's matchmaking radar for a whole week?"
"I don't plan to escape," Lucian said with a glint in his eye. "I plan to dodge, delay, and distract."
"And what if you meet someone on this grand adventure trip? A normal girl. No tiara. No royal crest."
Lucian leaned back, thoughtful. "Then I might finally have a reason to attend the next gala voluntarily."
A moment passed. Lightness danced between them, but Sebastian caught something deeper in his friend's voice—longing, maybe. Or the quiet ache of a man tired of being everyone but himself.
Sebastian picked up the coffee cup and walked toward the door.
"Well then, Your Majesty," he said, turning briefly. "Better pack your hiking boots... and maybe leave room for a twist in the plot."
Lucian gave a half-smile, gaze drifting to the open window.
"I'm counting on it."…glint in his eyes. "I plan to disappear. Briefly. Strategically."
Sebastian snorted. "You say that like you're launching a covert military op."
Lucian leaned forward, folding his hands together over the summit packet. "In a way, I am. Only instead of infiltrating enemy lines, I'll be infiltrating normalcy."
A pause stretched between them. The distant hum of palace staff echoed faintly outside the heavy doors, but within the study, it was just the quiet understanding of two men bound by duty—one burdened by a crown, the other sworn to protect it.
Sebastian's gaze lingered on his friend. "So this isn't just about zip-lining and dodging Lady Arabella."
Lucian didn't answer immediately. He stared at the crest on the folder, fingers tightening slightly.
"No," he said at last. "It's about breathing without feeling like I owe the air to someone else."
Sebastian gave a slow nod. "Well then. Guess I better pack too."
Lucian looked up, surprised. "You're coming?"
Sebastian smirked. "Of course I'm coming. You think I'm letting the Crown Prince go frolicking through the wilderness without backup?"
"You mean babysitting."
"I mean damage control. In case you fall off a cliff or fall in love with a travel blogger."
Lucian groaned. "That's not going to happen."
But the corner of his mouth twitched, the first real smile of the day.
Outside, the palace bells rang the quarter hour. Inside, two futures—one broken, one burdened—were quietly hurtling toward a single crossroads.
And in seven days, the Grand Adventure's Challenge would begin.
Where identities blur, secrets stir, and fate rewrites everything.
To be continued…