KHALID'S POV
I found out from Page Six.
Not from her. Not from a call or a text or a conversation.
From a fucking tabloid.
**BREAKING: ROMAN HELTON ENGAGED TO TECH MOGUL RANDALL KIM**
There's a photo. She's smiling. There's a ring on her finger.
And I felt something in my chest crack.
Actually crack. Like a physical sensation.
---
I called her immediately.
Didn't think. Just called.
"What the fuck is this?"
"What it looks like."
"You got engaged."
"Yes."
Her voice was calm. Too calm. Like she'd been preparing for this conversation.
"To Randall Kim."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you need to marry Amira. And you won't do it if you think I'm waiting for you."
And that's when I understood.
She didn't get engaged because she wanted to.
She got engaged to force my hand.
---
It's been three days and I still can't stop looking at the photo.
She's wearing a ring. Small. Tasteful. Probably cost less than the watch I'm wearing.
But it's there. On her finger. From another man.
And I want to break something.
Actually break something. My phone. My laptop. The entire fucking building.
But I don't.
Because she's right.
That's the worst part. She's absolutely right.
---
I've been replaying our conversation obsessively.
"You're seeing if I'll actually go through with it. If I'll actually marry Amira."
"Will you?"
That pause. That fucking pause where I didn't know what to say.
Because the answer is: I don't want to. I don't want to marry Amira. I don't want to do my duty. I don't want anything except Roman.
But she got engaged to prove a point.
To show me that love isn't enough. That I have responsibilities. That I can't throw away everything for her.
Even though I would. Even though I'd burn it all down if she asked.
She's not asking.
She's doing the opposite. She's pushing me away to save me.
And I don't know if that's the most selfless thing anyone's ever done or if it's her testing me one more time.
Both, probably.
---
Karim came over yesterday.
Found me staring at the article.
"You've been looking at that for three days."
"I know."
"She's not actually marrying him."
"How do you know?"
"Because she loves you. This is strategy."
"Or it's real. Or it becomes real." I look at him. "What if I marry Amira and she actually goes through with it? What if she marries Randall and I lose her?"
"Then you lose her. But at least you'll have your family. Your position. Everything else."
"I don't want everything else. I want her."
"I know." He sits. "But maybe you can have both. Maybe that's what she's trying to show you."
---
I agreed to marry Amira.
Called my father. Said I'd do it. Said I'd fulfill my duty.
He sounded relieved. Almost surprised.
"What changed your mind?"
I couldn't tell him the truth. That Roman got engaged to someone else to force me to do this. That I'm only agreeing because she made it impossible not to.
So I just said: "I realized I have responsibilities."
He accepted that.
---
I called her after.
"I agreed."
"To what?"
"To marrying Amira."
Silence. Long enough that I thought she'd hung up.
"Good."
That's it. Just "good."
Not "I'm sorry." Not "I'll wait for you." Just—good.
Like she'd accomplished what she set out to do.
"Don't congratulate me."
"I'm not. I'm just—glad you're doing the right thing."
"The right thing would be choosing you."
"The right thing is not throwing away your entire life."
"I'm throwing away us."
"No you're not. I'll still be here."
And I want to believe her. Want to believe that this is temporary. That we'll figure it out.
But she's engaged to someone else.
And I'm about to marry someone else.
And I don't know how we survive that.
---
The ring haunts me.
Small. Silver. Probably not even real diamonds.
But it's on her finger. From him.
And every time I close my eyes I see it.
See her smiling in that photo. See her choosing someone else. See her moving on while I'm stuck here trying to figure out how to breathe.
---
My brother asked what I'm going to do.
"About what?"
"About Roman. About the fact that she's engaged to someone else while you're marrying Amira."
"I don't know."
"You need to figure it out."
"I know."
"Because if you marry Amira and lose Roman, you lose everything that matters."
"And if I don't marry Amira, I lose everything else."
"Then you need both."
"That's not possible."
"People do it."
"Not people like me. Not—" I stop. "Not with someone like her."
"Why not?"
I don't have an answer.
---
Here's what I'm realizing:
She got engaged to test me. To see if I'd actually do my duty. To see if I'd marry Amira even if it meant losing her.
And I am. I'm marrying Amira.
But I'm not losing her.
I refuse to lose her.
So I need to figure out how to have both. How to be married to one woman while in love with another. How to fulfill my duty while keeping my heart.
It's not moral. It's not right. It's probably going to destroy all of us.
But it's the only option I have.
---
I saw Randall yesterday.
At some industry event I couldn't avoid.
He saw me. Nodded. Like we were casual acquaintances.
I wanted to cross the room and break his jaw.
Instead I nodded back.
And then I left before I did something I'd regret.
Because he has her. Or he will have her. Or—
I don't know what he has.
I just know he has access to her that I don't have anymore.
And that's driving me insane.
---
She said something on the phone that I can't stop thinking about.
"This is me choosing you by letting you go."
What the fuck does that mean?
How is getting engaged to someone else choosing me?
How is pushing me toward an arranged marriage letting me go?
Unless—
Unless she's giving me permission. Permission to marry Amira while still loving her. Permission to do my duty while keeping her.
Permission to have both.
Is that what this is?
---
I haven't seen her in a week.
She's avoiding me. Won't answer calls. Won't respond to texts.
Just—silence.
And I'm going insane.
Because I need to see her. Need to know if this is real or if it's strategy. Need to know if she's actually moving on or if she's buying time.
Need to know if I'm losing her.
---
Amira's family announced the engagement yesterday.
Formal. Official. Published in every major paper.
Prince Khalid Al-Rashid to marry Princess Amira Abdul Nazir.
Six months from now. Dubai. Traditional ceremony.
And I read the announcement and felt—nothing.
No excitement. No dread. Just—nothing.
Because the only thing I care about is Roman.
And she's engaged to someone else.
---
My father called to congratulate me.
"You made the right choice."
Did I?
I don't know anymore.
All I know is Roman got engaged to force me to do this. And I did it. And now we're both engaged to other people while still in love with each other.
And I have no idea how this ends.
---
Here's what scares me:
That she's serious. That the engagement to Randall isn't strategy. That she's actually moving on.
That I'll marry Amira and Roman will marry Randall and we'll lose each other completely.
That this was the test and I failed by not choosing her.
But also—
What if I passed?
What if the test was: will you do your duty even if it costs you everything?
And I did. I agreed to marry Amira. I'm fulfilling my responsibility.
So maybe I passed.
Maybe this is her way of showing me we can have both.
---
I'm getting married in six months.
To a woman I don't love.
While in love with a woman who's engaged to someone else.
And somehow I need to make this work.
Need to figure out how to keep Roman while married to Amira.
Need to figure out how to be a husband and a prince and still hers.
It's impossible.
But impossible is all I have left.
---
It's 3 AM.
I'm alone. Roman's not here. Hasn't been here since she left three weeks ago.
I'm staring at that photo again. The one from Page Six.
Her smile. His arm around her. The ring.
And I'm trying to figure out if this is the end or if it's just the next test.
If she's really moving on or if she's buying us time.
If I'm losing her or if I've already lost her.
I don't know.
All I know is I'm marrying Amira in six months.
And Roman is engaged to someone else.
And I have to believe—have to—that we'll survive this.
That she meant it when she said "I'll still be here."
That this is her choosing me by letting me go.
Whatever the fuck that means.