Pearl Gem Morning sun bath the chamber. Food and water came, delivered by court ladies with stone-cold faces, but never him. No warmth. No knock at the door. No golden eyes waiting on the veranda. Each hour stretched longer than the last. What I thought was a miracle, his proposal, his affection, twisted itself into something colder. Harsher. A cruel game I never saw coming. His Highness disappeared from my life completely. Then, on the third night, a maid came. “His Highness is ready to see you.” My heart suddenly leapt, wild with hope. I rushed out immediately, not thinking, not breathing, already rehearsing forgiveness for whatever excuse he might give. The rain fell gently on stone when I stepped into the veranda. And there he was. Kade King Majesty. Still magnificent. Still heartbreakingly beautiful. But different. His eyes, once a place of comfort, now held no warmth. Only distance. Only storm. “Your job is done here, Omega,” He said coldly, tossing a wad of
Pearl Gem My father had once visited the Noble Wall, and when he returned, his words painted pictures of a heaven too perfect for people like us. I had believed him, of course, but a part of me always thought he had exaggerated. Until now. The massive iron gates of the Royal Castle groaned open for the royal car sent to collect me, and I didn’t bother hiding my awe. My eyes drank in the pristine roads, the manicured gardens, the towering white walls adorned with golden crests. Every inch of the royal domain radiated untouchable power. The car came to a halt before a domed marble structure that shimmered like a palace plucked from myth. And there, standing like a dream turned real, was Kade King. My heart swelled just at the sight of him. Before I could reach for the door, he was already there, opening it for me, one hand extended in silent invitation. I froze, stunned by the quiet gentleness of his gesture. His palm hovered patiently, and when I looked up at his face, h
Pearl Gem “Please don’t tell me you are still daydreaming about His Highness.” My younger brother’s voice floated in from the doorway, dragging me back to the world I was so desperate to escape. I turned toward him, still clutching the pillow that had become my obsession. “Goodness, Gem,” He laughed. “He’s not coming back. And let’s be honest. Everyone believes you are going to end up with Royce.” “Royce is a best friend. Not a man to me!” I snapped, shooting up and chasing after him down the hallway. Laughter echoed through our little home as we dashed into the living room. My mother, busy serving lunch in the dining area, looked up with a small, knowing smile. My father, resting on the couch after a long day at the shop, barely spared us a glance before sighing like a man who had accepted his fate with unrushed exhaustion. It had been one month. One whole month since I had saved the Alpha Prince. Since he had left the Omega Ghetto without a single word. No goodbye. No
Pearl Gem It is unreal. No. This isn’t happening. This cannot be reality. Why should it? A royal in my bed. Not just any royal… but the Alpha Prince himself, Lying there, eyes closed, unconscious. Just as his presence feels utterly unreal, so too does this wild thundering in my chest. A forbidden heartbeat. Why should I feel this way? I am from the Valley clan. We are always beneath. And this young man lying in my bed… he is no one but the future king. I sat on the floor beside the bed, my chin resting against the wooden frame, my gaze fixed on his face. A face carved by the gods from the most precious stone, a visage too perfect, too cruel in its beauty. Designed not just to rule, but to imprison hearts. Like mine. I had called for help immediately. And help had come. After His Highness was brought into my room, my father had sprinted toward the Noble’s Wall, breathless, to spread word that his Highness was still alive. My eyes trailed over the sculpted lines of hi
Pearl Gem "W...what?" "You heard me right, Pearl. You are suffering from heart disease. It developed from prolonged emotional trauma, and I'm afraid... it's severe. You have only three months to live. Ninety days to be precise. I'm so sorry." Those were the doctor's words. Gentle, final as he stepped out of the office, leaving me rooted in place, drowning in shock. My lips moved but no sound came. Perhaps I misheard. Perhaps there was a mistake. Doctor Sarou must be wrong. With trembling hands, I flipped through the papers he had handed me, my heart pounding against my ribs. The truth stared back at me in sterile ink. Diagnosis. Prognosis. Terminal. My knees weakened. But I couldn't cry, not yet. I could only stare at the wall, unseeing, unblinking. The world blurred, and then the tears came. Hot, silent, relentless. Tears of dread. Of heartbreak. Of helpless rage. The room spun around me, and I staggered toward the window, gasping for air. But the breeze that met m