A new dilemma

Chapter 3: A New Dilemma

    Alex

As I was buttoning up my shirt, the remnants of the evening’s chaos still clinging to my thoughts, my phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand, breaking the eerie silence in the room. My hand froze over the fabric, eyes snapping to the screen.

It was Daniel.

My heart leaped in my chest, then sank just as quickly. I’d completely forgotten about him. After the incident at the bar, I had bolted, leaving him in the midst of laughter and attention that he thrived on. I hadn’t even texted him since I’d returned to the hotel, my mind too jumbled to think straight.

"S***," I muttered under my breath, staring at his name flashing on the screen.

I hesitated, fingers hovering over the phone. I didn’t know how to explain myself. I didn’t know how he’d react if he knew what I’d done. The weight of my actions was still fresh in my mind.

My thumb hovered for a second longer before I sighed, knowing I couldn’t avoid him forever. I swiped the screen and brought the phone to my ear.

"Alex, where the hell are you?" Daniel’s voice immediately came through, and he sounded annoyed, but there was a hint of concern beneath it. "I’ve been looking for you everywhere! You just disappeared."

"I, uh... I needed some air," I stammered, already feeling the knot of guilt tightening in my chest. "I wasn’t feeling too great, so I came back to the hotel."

There was a brief pause, the sound of the bar buzzing in the background on his end. "You just left? Didn’t even say anything? I thought something happened to you, man."

Something had happened. But I couldn’t tell him that. Not yet. Not when I was still trying to process it myself.

"Sorry," I said quietly. "I didn’t mean to worry you."

Daniel let out a frustrated sigh. "Alex, you’ve got to stop doing this, man. One minute you’re fine, and the next, you vanish. You’ve been on edge all night. What’s going on?"

I clenched my jaw, turning away from the mirror to avoid seeing my own conflicted reflection. I couldn’t tell him the truth—not the full truth, anyway. I couldn’t admit that the pressure, the expectations, the constant need to perform was finally breaking me. That I had almost enjoyed the brief escape of being a nobody, but that it had gone horribly wrong.

"It’s just the summit," I finally muttered, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. "You know how it is. All the speeches, the attention... it gets to me."

Daniel was silent for a moment, but I knew he wasn’t buying it. He knew me too well, knew that I wasn’t telling him everything.

"Alex, come on," he said, his voice softer now, the playfulness from earlier replaced by genuine concern. "I know there’s more going on. You’ve been acting weird for a while now. Talk to me."

I pressed my thumb and forefinger to the bridge of my nose, trying to steady myself. How could I tell him? How could I explain what was really going on in my head—the suffocating pressure, the mounting desire to escape my carefully curated life, even for just a moment?

"I just need some space, Dani," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I’m trying to figure some things out."

"You’ve been needing space for months now," Daniel shot back, his frustration evident. "But you’re not figuring anything out. You’re just running. From everything. From me, from your father, from your own damn life. What are you so afraid of?"

I swallowed hard, his words hitting closer to home than I wanted to admit. Maybe I was running. But what else could I do? I had spent my whole life being molded into someone I wasn’t sure I wanted to be.

"I’m not running," I lied again, the words feeling like a defense mechanism. "I just... I can’t explain it right now."

"Then when?" Daniel pushed, his voice sharp. "You keep saying you’ll talk, but you never do. You’re shutting me out, Alex, and I don’t get it. You used to tell me everything. What changed?"

Everything had changed. Meeting that stranger, the way my world tilted when our eyes met, the flood of emotions I hadn’t known how to process. I hadn’t just left the bar to escape the chaos—I had left to escape myself.

"I’m sorry," I finally said, knowing I owed him that much at least. "I just need some time."

Daniel sighed heavily. "Fine. Take your time, then. But I’m here when you’re ready to stop running and actually talk."

The line went dead, leaving me in the silence of my hotel room, the weight of his words lingering long after the call ended.

I tossed the phone onto the bed and ran a hand through my hair, my mind still spinning. I had known Daniel would push for answers—he always did—but I hadn’t expected it to cut this deep.

Part of me wanted to tell him the truth, to lay it all out there and see how he’d react. But the bigger part of me—the part that had been raised to hide every flaw, every doubt—couldn’t bear the thought of it. I couldn’t risk him seeing the cracks in my carefully constructed facade.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my shirt still unbuttoned, my hair slightly disheveled from the night’s events. The image of the man who had bumped into me flashed in my mind again—those sharp blue eyes, the way my breath had caught in my throat at the sight of him. I felt a pang of something unfamiliar twist in my chest.

I didn’t know what I was doing anymore. For so long, I had been following a script, playing the role that had been laid out for me. But now, I was starting to wonder if I had been cast in the wrong part all along.

I turned away from the mirror, buttoning up my shirt with a shaky hand. I needed to clear my head. I needed to figure out what the hell I was going to do next.

But for now, all I could do was breathe and hope that, eventually, I’d find my way back to myself.

****

Days later, I found myself standing in the opulent ballroom of the presidential residence.

 The grandeur of the summit was overwhelming, with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.

 Men in tailored suits and women draped in luxurious gowns moved about elegantly, each of them exuding a confidence that I struggled to muster. 

Despite the dazzling surroundings, my mind was far from the glamour of the evening. I was still haunted by thoughts of the man I had met at the bar—his sharp blue eyes, the way he had pulled me from my own reality, the wild night that felt like a dream fading with the morning light. 

I couldn’t shake the memory of him, and it nagged at me like an unfinished sentence, an itch I couldn’t scratch. 

As I wandered through the throngs of influential figures, exchanging polite nods and forced smiles, I felt a suffocating weight on my chest. Each handshake, each superficial conversation felt like a chore, drawing me deeper into the facade I had learned to maintain. 

I wondered if I would ever see him again, if I could forget the thrill of that night.

“Alex, darling!” my mother’s voice sliced through my reverie, pulling me back to the present.

 She glided over, draped in a striking red gown that turned heads as she approached. “You look absolutely lost. You need to engage! These people could be valuable connections.”

“Right,” I replied, forcing a smile. “Connections.”

She waved her hand dismissively, eager to steer me into the spotlight. “Come, let’s mingle. Your father is speaking soon, and we must be seen.”

I followed her lead, feeling like a marionette on strings, paraded around for the applause of the elite. Just as I was trying to focus on my surroundings, the MC stepped up to the microphone, his presence commanding silence across the ballroom.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice booming through the grand space, “it is with great pleasure that I announce the arrival of the esteemed Royalty of Norway, the Brighmore.”

A ripple of anticipation swept through the crowd, and I forced myself to breathe, clenching my fists at my sides. I hated these people—my parents included. 

The royals were the epitome of privilege, flaunting their power and lineage, believing the world owed them respect. My disdain ran particularly deep for their son, Prince Liam Brightmore. He had always acted as if he were the king of the world, strutting through life with an arrogance that made my skin crawl.

As the large wooden doors at the far end of the ballroom swung open, the atmosphere shifted, charged with both excitement and tension. Guests turned, their whispers rising like a tide.

 I felt my heart quicken, a nervous flutter settling in my stomach as I prepared for the familiar sight of the Norwegian royal family.

Then, he entered. 

My eyes narrowed as I laid them on him. Prince Liam. He was flanked by his parents, the King and Queen, but it was Liam who caught my attention—the same sharp jawline, the tousled dark hair, and those piercing blue eyes that had haunted my dreams.

 It struck me then, an epiphany so strong that it felt like a punch to the gut.

How could I not have seen the resemblance before? The face that had seemed so familiar, so intoxicatingly magnetic—it all came crashing down on me like a ton of bricks. Leo, the man from the bar, was not just any stranger; he was Prince Liam.

The realization sent a shockwave through my body, a

nd I staggered slightly, the polished floor feeling unsteady beneath my feet. My breath hitched in my throat.