"I can't do this, Dad. My world has crumbled, and you're not even here to help me pick up the pieces.”

I whispered those words to a study three nights ago and I am still waiting for an answer that I know I will never get.

The lawyers office smells like paper and lemon polish and I already do not like it. I sit stiffly in the leather chair across from the mahogany desk, my hands folded tightly in my lap. My knuckles have turned white. Beside me Amelia sniffles quietly into a tissue. She is seventeen years old. Her shoulders are shaking with grief. I want to be strong for both of us. I feel like I am made of glass and might shatter into a thousand pieces on this expensive rug.

My father has been gone for eleven days. Eleven days since the phone call that changed everything. Eleven days since my world tilted on its axis. Refused to write itself again. I remember the sound of the nurse's voice on the other end of the line. She was careful. Rehearsed. I could tell she had delivered this kind of news before. I remember dropping the phone. I remember Amelia's scream from the room when she realized what had happened.

Eleven days have passed. I still reach for my phone some mornings. I half expected a text from my father about some company matters. I expect a reminder to eat something other than coffee for breakfast. I am learning that grief does not announce itself politely. It simply waits in the space where a person used to be and ambushes you when you forget to brace for it.

"Ms. Williams, " the lawyer says gently. He adjusts his glasses. His name is Mr. Griggs. He has known my father for over twenty years. There is sympathy in his eyes but there is also something else. Something careful. It makes my stomach twist with dread before he even opens the folder in front of him. "I know this is a difficult time. I would not be doing this today if it were not necessary."

"Just tell us Mr. Griggs " I say. My voice comes out steadier than I feel. I have learned how to sound steady when my insides are screaming. "Please."

He opens the folder. I watch his eyes scan the page. I see the way his jaw tightens imperceptibly. I know that whatever comes next is going to hurt.

"Your father as you know was the owner of Williams Textiles " Mr. Griggs begins. "A company he built from nothing over thirty years. He employed over four hundred people. When he passed away. Ownership transfers to Freya as his daughter. A trust has been established for Amelia until she comes of age."

"Okay " I say slowly. "That much we knew."

"There is, however, a complication " Mr. Griggs says. He pulls a document from the folder. The paper is older and slightly yellowed at the edges. It looks like it has been folded and unfolded over the years. "Eight years ago your father entered into an agreement. It was a business arrangement with a powerful family. The Ethans."

I blink. The name means nothing to me. However the way Mr. Griggs says it. With a kind of reverence. Makes the hair on my arms stand up.

"I do not understand, " I say. "What kind of business arrangement?"

Mr. Griggs hesitates. For the time since we walked in he looked almost afraid. That frightens me more than anything has today.

"Your father owed His Majesty Ethan Arthur a sum of money " he says. "A loan that saved the company from bankruptcy during a period. In exchange for that loan and to seal what your father believed would be an alliance between the two families he agreed to a marriage contract."

The room goes still. I can hear the ticking of a clock somewhere behind me. Each second stretches long.

"A marriage contract " I repeat. The words feel foreign in my mouth. They are like a language I do not speak.

"Between you Freya Williams and Freddie Ethan, the King's son " Mr. Griggs says.

Amelia takes a breath. It is the sound in the room for several long seconds. I sit frozen staring at the lawyer as though he has just spoken in tongues. I think that if I stay still enough this moment might simply reverse itself and become something

"That is not possible " I finally say. "I have never even met this person. I have never heard his name before today. My father would never—"

"Your father signed this document with legal counsel present, " Mr. Griggs says quietly. He slides the paper across the desk toward me. "It is binding. Should you refuse to honor it, the loan. Which was never repaid, Freya, not an installment. Becomes due in full immediately. Four hundred people would lose their jobs. The company your father spent his life building would be liquidated within the month to cover the debt."

My hands are shaking now as I pick up the document. My fathers signature sits at the bottom of the page. It is the signature I have seen on my birthday cards and my school permission slips my whole life. However here it is, condemning me to a future I never agreed to.

"He never told me, " I whisper. "Eight years. He never once told me."

"I believe, " Mr. Griggs says carefully, "that your father hoped he would find a way to repay the debt before it ever came to this. I do not think he ever intended for you to actually have to go through with the marriage.. Time ran out on him, Freya.. Now the choice is yours."

Amelia reaches over. Grabs my hand. She holds it tightly and it almost hurts. "Freya, " she whispers. "What are we going to do?"

I look at my sister's tear-streaked face. I see the fear in her eyes. I feel something inside me harden into resolve even as my heart cracks down the middle. She is looking at me the way she has looked at me since she was like I have answers. I am supposed to know how the world works. I have never felt less certain of that in my life.

"We are going to figure it out, " I say. "I promise you, Amelia. Whatever happens I will protect you and this company. I will not let Dads legacy die because of some contract he signed to save us."

However, even as I say the words, a cold weight settles in my chest. There is no version of this where I come out unscathed.. I will marry a stranger. A man from a family so powerful they are practically royalty. Or I watch everything my father built crumble into dust. Four hundred families would lose their livelihoods because of it. There is no door in this room that leads somewhere painless.

"Is there a timeline?" I ask. I force my voice to remain even though my pulse is hammering so loudly I am surprised no one else can hear it.

Mr. Griggs nods grimly. "The King has requested a meeting within the month. He wishes to discuss the terms moving forward. I would advise you to prepare yourself Freya. His Majesty Ethan Arthur is not a man accustomed to being told no."

We leave the office in silence. Amelia cries on the drive home. I let her because someone in the car needs to fall. It clearly is not going to be me. Not not when there is still so much to hold together. I keep both hands tight on the steering wheel. My eyes are fixed on the road. I do not let a tear fall until we are safely parked in our own driveway. The engine is off. The house is dark and waiting in front of us like it is holding its breath too.

That night after Amelia finally cries herself to sleep I sit alone in my fathers study. I am surrounded by the ghost of him. His reading glasses are still on the desk. His handwriting is still tucked into notes, inside books. The faint smell of his cologne still clings to the leather armchair by the window. The room has not changed since the night he was rushed to the hospital. I have not been able to bring myself to move a thing. I think that keeping his coffee mug where he left it might somehow keep a piece of him here with us.

I hold the marriage contract in my hands. I read it over and over as if the words might rearrange themselves into something terrifying if I just look hard enough. The paper is thick and formal. It is stamped with a seal I do not recognize. An emblem of some kind. It is a crest that looks like it belongs in a history book rather than a family's private legal correspondence.

Freddie Ethan.

I do not know his face. I do not know his voice. I know nothing except that he's the reason my entire future has been changed without my permission and that makes me really angry. I think he lives in a palace, maybe not even caring. Maybe he has always known about this agreement his whole life, some rich kid who's just been waiting for the papers to be ready for him to take over.

I think about leaving. For a moment I imagine packing a bag taking Amelia and going somewhere the Ethans can't find us. Some town, a new name, just the two of us.. Then I think of the 400 people who work at Williams Textiles. People who worked for my dad for years, people with their own families, people who sent flowers to his funeral and told me how much he meant to them. I think of Martha in accounting who's worked there longer than I've been alive. I think of Old Tomás in the warehouse who taught me to ride a bike in the parking lot when I was little because my dad was too busy.

I can't leave. I have never been someone who runs away.

I put the contract back in the drawer where my dad kept it hidden for 8 years. Whatever happens next I will deal with it like I deal with everything. On, standing up straight not letting anyone see how scared I really am. That's the one thing my dad gave me that I trust: being stubborn like him.

Outside the city is buzzing with its energy but I feel a quiet sadness inside. I press my hand against the glass of the window and stare out at the lights wondering what kind of man could make a King do what he wants and make my dad promise something in desperation. I wonder if he's looking out some palace window now worried about the same meeting or if he's just sleeping, feeling safe because he's never had to try hard for anything.

I have no idea that I've already met him. That his smile is already stuck in my memory from a few days ago in a small café where I went to get away from my dads empty house.

I have no idea that the stranger I don't like and the person I'm scared of are going to be the man. And that in 3 days when I go to meet the man my dad promised me to, I will look up and see a familiar pair of warm brown eyes and feel my whole world fall apart again.

Three days before the will reading I had to get out of the house.

The house was really getting to me. Every room was like a museum of my fathers absence; every creak of the floorboards sounded like footsteps that would never come again. My fathers slippers were still by the door. His newspaper from that morning was still folded on the kitchen table; the crossword half finished his handwriting trailing off mid-clue like he'd simply meant to come back to it later. I couldn't be in that house another minute without feeling like the walls themselves were closing in on me.

So I walked, aimlessly until my feet led me to a café tucked between a bookstore and a flower shop, the kind of place with mismatched chairs and the smell of fresh espresso thick in the air.

I ordered a coffee I didn't really want and sat by the window watching the city move past me like I was underwater disconnected from all of it. People walked by with their lives intact. Grocery bags, phone calls, laughter shared between friends. And I remember feeling a strange hollow envy toward every single one of them for the simple luxury of an unremarkable day.

It was there staring blankly into my cup that I first noticed the stranger.

He was sitting two tables away alone with a newspaper folded beside a cup of tea. He wasn't reading it. He was watching the door with tension in his shoulders like a man waiting for something. Or someone. That he both wanted and dreaded to see.

I remember thinking, in the way grief lets you notice things without fully processing them that he looked like he was bracing for bad news the same way I'd been bracing for it for over a week.

I hadn't meant to stare.. There was something about the stranger that pulled my attention and refused to let go. The stranger was tall even sitting down I could tell, with shoulders that filled out his simple gray sweater in a way that seemed almost unfair. The stranger's hair was brown, short with a wave to it that looked like he'd run his fingers through it one too many times.. The strangers' eyes. When the stranger finally glanced over and caught me staring. Were a dark warm brown eye that seemed to hold entire storms behind them.

I should have looked away. Instead I offered an embarrassed smile.

To my surprise the stranger smiled back. It transformed the stranger's face, softening the tension in the stranger's jaw and for a moment the stranger didn't look like a stranger with storms in the stranger's eyes. The stranger looked like someone I might have known in my life.

"Rough day?" the stranger asked, the strangers voice low and warm carrying easily across the space between our tables.

" Month " I admitted before I could stop myself. I'm not usually so honest with strangers. Grief had stripped away some of my usual filters leaving raw honesty in its place. "Rough year, if I'm being fully truthful."

"I know that feeling," the stranger. Something in the way the stranger said it made me believe the stranger completely. There was a heaviness behind the strangers eyes that matched my own, a kind of recognition that passed between two strangers who both understood in that instant that the other was carrying something.

The stranger gestured to the chair across from the stranger. "Do you mind? I could use the distraction if you're willing to provide one."

I should have said no. The stranger was a stranger to me. I was a stranger to strangers and my father had just died and I had a business to somehow learn how to run and this was absolutely not the time to be inviting handsome strangers to sit with me in cafés.

"Sure " I heard myself say instead. "Why not."

The stranger's name the stranger told me was Freddie. Freddie didn't offer a name and I didn't offer mine either. There was something freeing. About the anonymity of it. About being just a woman and just a man in a café with no history and no expectations pressing down on either of us.

For those two hours I wasn't the daughter of a dying company. I wasn't a woman about to inherit a legacy I never asked for. I was simply a woman sitting across from Freddie, a stranger who listened like every word out of my mouth mattered.

We talked for two hours. Freddie asked about my father gently. I found myself telling Freddie things I hadn't even told Chloe yet. How guilty I felt for not visiting more in the last year, how terrified I was of stepping into a role I'd never asked for, how much I missed hearing my father hum old jazz songs while he cooked breakfast on Sunday mornings.

I told Freddie about the way my father used to burn the toast every time and pretend it was intentional calling it "extra crispy" like that had been the plan all along. Freddie laughed at that, a real laugh, warm and surprised like Freddie hadn't expected to laugh all that day.

"You sound like he was a man, " Freddie said quietly.

"He was, " I said, blinking back tears. "He was the man I knew."

Freddie's own eyes darkened at that. I caught the faintest flicker of something painful across Freddie's face. Envy, maybe or grief of a different kind. "You're lucky " Freddie said. "Not everyone gets a father worth missing that much."

I wanted to ask what Freddie meant. I wanted to ask about the tension I'd noticed in Freddie's shoulders. About who Freddie had been waiting for when I first walked in.. There was a wall behind Freddies eyes that told me some doors weren't meant to be opened by a stranger no matter how easy the conversation had become.

So instead I let the moment pass and something told me Freddie was grateful for it.

Instead I asked Freddie what he did for work. Watch Freddie hesitate.

"It's complicated, " Freddie said finally. "My family is involved in a lot of things. I don't always get to choose my path the way I'd like to."

"I understand that more than you'd think " I said, thinking of the business now sitting on my shoulders, the employees depending on me, the legacy I hadn't chosen but couldn't abandon. It felt strange and comforting even to sit across from Freddie, a stranger who seemed to carry an invisible weight even if neither of us could fully name it out loud.

At one point the barista came by to refill our cups and Freddie thanked her by name. Marta I think it was. With an ease that struck me as odd for someone who'd claimed moments earlier to have a relationship with Freddie's own life. Freddie noticed my glance and shrugged, almost sheepishly.

"I come here a lot, " Freddie admitted. "It's one of the places I can just sit. Nobody bothers me here. Nobody wants anything from me."

"What do people usually want from you?" I asked, genuinely curious despite myself.

Freddie was quiet for a moment turning his cup slowly on its saucer. "Everything " Freddie said finally with a humorless laugh. "Or nothing at all which is somehow worse because at least when someone wants something specific you know exactly what you're dealing with."

I didn't understand what Freddie meant, not really not yet.. Something in Freddie's voice made me want to reach across the table and take Freddie's hand to tell him that whatever weight he was carrying he didn't have to carry it alone at that moment.

"For what it's worth " I said instead "you don't seem like someone people should be afraid to talk to."

Something shifted in Freddie's expression softening further like I'd said something that mattered more than I realized. "That might be the thing anyone's said to me in longer than I'd like to admit " Freddie said quietly.

We talked about things after that. Books we'd both pretended to finish in school, a terrible movie we'd each seen more than once despite hating it, the strange comfort of foods that remind you of childhood even when they're objectively not very good. It was easy in a way conversations rarely're unburdened by the usual dance of first impressions.

I found myself laughing, actually laughing, for the time since the hospital had called.

We didn't exchange numbers. It hadn't felt necessary at the moment. It had felt like something in itself a single afternoon meant to exist outside of time untethered to the messiness of real life.

When we finally stood to leave Freddie walked me to the door. For one long moment we simply looked at each other, the noise of the café and the street, outside fading into something distant and unimportant.

"I hope things get easier for you, " Freddie said softly. "You seem like someone enough to survive whatever's coming."

"You too " I replied, though I didn't fully know what I meant by it.

He smiled at me one time and then he was lost in the crowd on the sidewalk. I stood there for a time feeling a little better than I had in days. It was the first time since my father died that I felt like myself again. This was all because of a man I did not know well. I only know his name and where he lived I knew not. I did not know what he did for a living. I did not know why his eyes seemed sad even when he was smiling.

In the days that followed I thought about him a lot. I thought about him during my fathers funeral. I thought about him when I was reading my fathers will. I even thought about him when I was dealing with the marriage contract. His face would appear in my mind at times. I would see his smile when I was signing papers. I would hear his voice when I was lying awake at night.

I tried to tell myself that it did not mean anything. He was a stranger I met in a café. We only talked for a while. That was all. I thought it was a nice conversation with someone who was kind to me during a tough time.

I had no idea that Freddie Ethan was thinking about me too. He was thinking about me from across the city. He was in a house with iron gates and guards. He was thinking about a woman with eyes and a nice smile. He was wondering if he would see me again. He was worried about the woman his father wanted him to marry. He had never met this woman before.

We did not know that our lives were already connected. The papers just had not caught up yet. When they did I would meet Freddie Ethan again. This time it would be in a meeting. I thought he would be cold and distant.. He was not. He was the man I had been thinking about.

I think about that day a lot. I think about it like it was a stone I found on the beach. I want to remember every part of it. There was nothing about it but it felt special to me. We were two strangers talking.. It feels like something more. It feels like it is a part of me now.

My friend Chloe asked me why I did not ask for his phone number. I did not have an answer. I still do not have an answer. I just know that it felt like something that was only meant to happen. I thought it was enough.. I was wrong.

The Ethan family palace is really something. It rises above the city like it is from a time. The iron gates and the gardens are well kept. It is like a different world from the glass skyscrapers around it. I have walked past it times but I never thought I would be going inside. When I was a kid I would press my face against the car window when we drove by thinking it was a museum or something. My father would just. Say, "Some people get to live different lives Freya. It does not make them better, just different." I never thought those words would be a warning one day.

I am standing in the foyer now holding Amelia's hand tight. We are both dressed up waiting to meet the King. I have never met him before. I do not want to be part of his family. The foyer is huge with a ceiling that is painted with clouds and angels. It feels wrong considering why we are here.

"Ms. Williams," a servant says, coming down the stairs. "The King will see you now. Your sister can wait in the room."

Amelia's grip on my hand gets tighter. "I do not want to leave you " she whispers.

"I will be fine " I say, even though my stomach is all nervous. "Just. I will come find you when I am done."

I follow the servant down a hall with pictures of serious-looking people on the walls. They all seem to be judging me like they are deciding if I am good enough to marry into their family. I count at least a dozen pictures and they all look so serious. I wonder if they ever smiled in life or if they just do not allow it in pictures. I look at each face trying to find something that looks like the man I am supposed to marry.. They all just look cold and mean.

At the end of the hall we get to a study that is almost as big as my whole house. The King is sitting behind a desk looking perfect in his suit. He does not stand up. Say hello. He just says, "Sit down Ms. Williams."

It is not a question. I sat down. I try to keep my back and not look scared. I have dealt with people before so I tell myself this is not any different.. It feels different.

The study is meant to scare people, I think. The bookshelves go all the way up to the ceiling. There is a huge fireplace. There is a picture of the King when he was younger wearing robes. He still looks mean in that picture.

"I guess Mr. Griggs told you about the situation, " the King says, putting his fingers together. "Your fathers debt, the marriage contract, what happens if you say no."

"He did, " I say, trying to sound calm. ". I do not understand why my father would agree to this without asking me. It is my life all."

The King's eyes flicker like he's surprised I am not scared. "Your father was trying to save his company. I helped him. He agreed to the terms."

"Terms that include me marrying someone I have never met " I say.

The King's face gets sharper. "Terms that will save your family's company. You should remember that, Ms. Williams. If it was not for my family's money your company would not even exist. You would not have a job. Neither would the four hundred people who work for you."

My jaw gets tight. I try to keep my voice level. ". What about your son? Does he know about this? Is he okay with marrying someone he has never met just because you told him to?"

"My son will do what is best for this family " the King says. "Just like you will do what is best for yours."

I want to meet the King's son so I ask him. "I would like to meet him before I agree to anything. I want to at least know who I am marrying."

The King's eyes do something like he is hiding something. "You will meet him when the time is right. Not before. He is busy with work now and I do not want to interrupt him. You will meet him when you are supposed to."

I do not like this. The King's tone says he will not discuss it anymore. "That seems weird, " I say. "Would it not be better to introduce us instead of waiting?"

The King gets up and walks to the window. "I think it is better if we wait. You both need time to get used to the idea of this marriage. My son needs time to adjust. So do you. I do not see why we should rush it."

I want to ask questions but the King's tone says he is done talking about it. "What happens next?" I ask instead.

"You have two weeks to decide, " the King says. "If you do not agree to the marriage I will have to take steps to make sure it happens. I can affect your sister's education, your company's contracts... There are things I can do if you do not cooperate."

The threat is clear even though he says it nicely. I feel cold. I try not to show it. "I understand, " I say. "Two weeks."

The King turns around. For a moment he looks almost pleased. "You are smarter than I thought, Ms. Williams. Maybe you and my son will get along well."

I leave the study feeling like I just survived a fight. I keep thinking about why the King does not want me to meet his son. It does not feel right.

I find Amelia in the room and we hug without saying a word. We are both shaking a little. I can tell she is worried about me. "What happened?" she whispers. "Did you meet him? The King's son?"

"No " I say, still thinking about it. "The King says he is traveling for work. I have two weeks to decide about the marriage. I will meet him when the time is right." I say it like it is a joke. It does not feel funny.

Amelia's face gets serious. "That is weird, " she says. "I do not like it."

I agree, "It is " I say.. I do not have the energy to figure out every strange thing about this family today. I just want to go. The tiredness of the day is making my bones feel heavy and for once Amelia does not push me to talk than I want to.

As we leave the palace I look back at the building one last time wondering what kind of person grows up inside those cold walls with a father as mean as the one I just met. I wonder if there is any kindness left in him or if the palace made him cold a time ago like it seems to have made everything else cold. I try to picture his face. I came up with nothing. Just a vague idea of someone who has always had everything and seems cold because of it. I have already decided that I probably will not like him without meeting him. It is easier to dislike someone when you do not know what they look like.

I have no idea as I walk away from the palace that the very person I am thinking about is sitting in a café a few miles away thinking about my face in the same way that I am thinking about him. I have no idea that the King's strange delay was not really about work. That something complicated is going on, something that neither Freddie nor I can predict.

That evening I am feeling restless and cannot relax after the day so I go for a walk again. The same kind of walk that I did before when I was feeling sad and upset.. Somehow without meaning to I end up back on the same street in front of the same café with the little bell above the door. The evening air is cool. The city is getting quiet and I tell myself that I am just walking to clear my head.

I tell myself that I am not hoping to see him. I tell myself that it would not mean anything even if I did see him. I tell myself a lot of things standing there on the sidewalk with my hand near the door. I do not really believe any of them.

I open the door anyway. The little bell rings and my heart does something strange when I see a familiar pair of shoulders, in a gray sweater sitting at the same table as before.