Page 57 of Matched with the Grumpy Secret Prince

He’s strong. He’s capable. He’s everything my father wanted in an heir.

But he’s also furious.

And I know, without a doubt, that he blames me for all of this.

Not just for not being here. Not just for ignoring the castle for so long.

But for walking away in the first place.

And maybe—maybe a part of me blames myself too.

Isaac doesn’t say another word. He shakes his head, looks at me like he’s exhausted even by the sight of me, and turns toward the entrance.

I don’t follow him right away.

I can’t.

I stand there, staring at the place that once felt like a prison, at the brother I abandoned, at the weight of everything I swore I left behind?—

And I wonder if I was ever really free at all.

SOPHIE

It’s been a week since Graham left, but it still doesn’t feel real.

Every time I think about the last time I saw him, it plays like a bad dream—one of those cruel ones where you wake up sweating, heart racing, only to realize the nightmare isn’t over. Because of this? This is still happening.

I didn’t even get to process it properly. One minute, I was telling myself I was finally done with him, that I needed to put space between us, that whatever this was had to end.

Then he walked into the flower shop, and like always, he took up all the space. With his steady voice and quiet intensity, he came in, fixed my car, told me we had to talk, and looked at me in a way that made me feel like I was the only thing in the room that mattered.

And then that kiss.

My goodness, that kiss.

It wasn’t supposed to happen, but I let it because I wanted it.

For once, I stopped thinking. I stopped overanalyzing. I let myself have him, even if it was just for a moment.

And then?—

He left.

Just like that. No warning. No explanation. One phone call, and suddenly, everything changed. I should have been mad. I should have walked away before he had the chance. But I didn’t. I stood there, begging him to tell me what was wrong, watching him pack up his things like I didn’t even matter, like we didn’t even matter.

And now, a week later, I still don’t know what to do with any of it.

I should be over it by now. He left without a word, and I haven’t heard from him since. He obviously does not care about me. I should focus on Ethan and Riley’s wedding, my work, and anything else. Instead, I catch myself replaying it all in my head—the way his hands felt on my waist, the way he pulled me in like he’d been fighting himself for too long, the way it all unraveled in an instant.

And the worst part?

He never reached out. Not once.

No text. No call.

Nothing.

It’s like he disappeared. Like none of it ever even happened.

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