The moment of realization

THE MOMENT OF REALIZATION

The security guard’s words slam into me like a punch.

“The VVIP guest in that room… he’s a king.”

My heart stops. My breath stops. Everything inside me just… freezes.

The man I had a one-night stand with.

The man whose touch I can still feel on my skin.

The man whose child I’m carrying.

A king.

The hallway tilts. The lights blur. My mind races so fast it feels like it might burst out of my skull. I’m rooted to the spot, staring at the guard like he just told me the world is ending.

“Ma’am?” the guard frowns, confused by my expression. “Are you okay?”

No.

Not even close.

But before I can pull myself together, I hear hurried footsteps.

“Melissa?” Sandra rounds the corner, stopping dead when she sees my face. Her gaze slides to the guard and sharpens instantly. “What’s going on?”

“She came up here looking for a necklace ,” the guard explains. “VVIP level isn’t for staff unless you’re assigned.”

Sandra steps forward, ready to defend me, but I shoot her a wild look, follow my lead, and jump in first.

“I haven’t found it,” I blurt, letting my voice tremble with overly dramatic distress.

Sandra blinks. Then her eyes widen as she realizes I’m acting.

“Oh! The necklace?” she gasps loudly, clutching my arm. “You still haven’t found it?”

I sniff hard, shaking my head. “No… and I thought maybe someone returned it up here.” I let my lower lip wobble pathetically. “It’s been in my family for years… I just— I’m so scared it’s gone.”

The guard’s posture softens, sympathy tugging at him. “Sorry, miss. No one’s turned in anything like that. But you should check with the front desk.”

Sandra gives his shoulder a grateful little nod. “We will. Thank you so much. Let’s go, Melissa.”

She pulls me toward the elevator with gentle urgency. Our steps are controlled, measured—two innocent ladies handling a small crisis.

The elevator doors slide shut.

Silence.

Then—BOOM.

Sandra jerks her arm out of my hold and recoils like I’m radioactive. “What is wrong with you?” she snaps in a whisper-yell. She snatches her staff access card from my fingers. “Do you want to get me fired? VVIP, Melissa? VVIP?!”

I lean back against the elevator wall, heart still slamming in my chest, shock still choking me.

A king.

I slept with a king.

And I’m carrying his baby.

Everything in my world just changed.

The elevator glides down to the last floor, humming softly, but my mind is too loud to hear it. The doors slide open and Sandra steps out first, adjusting her uniform and forcing a tired smile.

“Alright, remember not to tell and bye,” she says, giving me a small wave.

But I don’t see it. I’m staring straight ahead, eyes unfocused, my heartbeat drowning out the world. My feet move on autopilot. Sandra sighs when she realizes I didn’t notice her goodbye, but she doesn’t call after me. She knows I’m gone, mentally.

I step out of the hotel’s glass doors and the cold air hits me instantly. A single tear slips down the side of my face, warm against my cold skin. I swipe it away quickly, but another follows. My stomach tightens painfully.

What am I going to do?

I wrap my arms around myself as I walk further away from the entrance.

I’m pregnant. With a king’s child.

A man who doesn’t know my name.

I’m just… me. An ordinary girl trying to survive. How am I supposed to walk up to a king, a royal, a national figure, and say “hey, I’m carrying your baby?.”

My throat burns.

A taxi slows beside me, the driver leaning out. “Madam, you need ride?”

I open my mouth… then shut it. The thought of sitting still, trapped with my thoughts, feels suffocating.

“No… I’ll walk,” I say softly.

The driver nods and moves on.

I shove my hands into my pockets and walk down the busy street, letting the noise swallow me. Cars honk, people chatter, life moves normally, while my world collapses silently.

After a few minutes, I look up, and freeze.

A massive roadside TV screen illuminates the street. Bright. Grand. Festive.

A royal wedding broadcast. I take another step… and the groom’s face appears.

My heart stops. It’s him!

The man from that night.

The man whose scent still clings to my memory.

I stand rooted to the pavement as the camera zooms in on his perfect, composed face. A glittering crown rests on his head. His bride stands beside him, smiling like she owns the world.

My breath catches in my chest.

Fuck!!!

The word rips out of me, raw and broken.

He isn’t just a king.

He’s a married king.

The father of my unborn child…

already has a queen.