Page 65 of Matched with the Grumpy Secret Prince

My entire body locks up.

Her lips tremble. Her eyes glisten. And before I can stop myself, before I can think, I’m at her bedside, sinking into the chair beside her.

“Hello, Mother,” I say, my voice wrecked.

She lifts a trembling hand, and I catch it, pressing my fingers over hers. They feel smaller than I remember, delicate like she’s made of glass.

Tears slip down her cheeks. “You came home.”

I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I did.”

My father shifts beside her, a low groan escaping him as his eyes slowly open. The moment he sees me, his entire body stills.

The last time we spoke, it wasn’t kind.

The last time we saw each other, I was walking away.

But now, lying in that bed, looking at me with something unspoken, something I don’t have the strength to decipher, he lets out a shaky breath and rasps?—

“Welcome back, son.”

And just like that, something inside me breaks.

Dinner feels surreal.

I never thought I’d be sitting at this table again, surrounded by my family, sharing a meal like no time had passed. But it has. The weight of seven years lingers in the quiet moments, in the pauses between words, in the way my father’s gaze flickers toward me like he’s still adjusting to the fact that I’m here.

The dining hall is just as I remember it—towering ceilings, gilded chandeliers casting a golden glow over the long oak table, and walls lined with centuries of history. The royal crest is embroidered into the deep blue table runner, and silver cutlery gleams under the light. It’s all so familiar, yet I feel like a visitor in my own home.

The meal is a feast—herb-roasted lamb, buttery potatoes, and fresh bread still warm from the castle ovens. The chefs went all out, likely because they knew I’d be joining. It’s a reminder that even though I left, people still notice my absence.

I sip my wine, listening as my mother asks Isaac about the coronation.

“Everything went smoothly,” Isaac says, his voice calm, measured. He’s always been like that—steady, reliable, unshakable. “The council was pleased. The people seem reassured.”

My father nods approvingly. “As they should be. A strong transition is vital for the stability of the throne.”

I glance at my brother, at the way he carries himself now—not just as Isaac, but as King Isaac. The title suits him, though I can’t help but wonder how heavy it must feel.

I keep mostly quiet, taking in the conversation, the easy way they all slip back into routine. It’s strange being here again, knowing I’m a part of this family, but also knowing I’ve been away for too long to fit seamlessly back in.

Still, it’s… nice.

Nice to sit here, share a meal, hear my mother laugh softly at something Isaac says, and watch my father’s sharp expression soften, if only slightly.

But underneath it all, there’s a tension in my chest that won’t settle.

Because no matter how much I try to stay present, my mind keeps drifting.

And, of course, my mother notices.

She sets down her fork and studies me carefully. “Something is troubling you, darling.”

It’s not a question—it never is with her.

I exhale, rubbing my thumb against the rim of my glass before finally looking up. “I left someone behind.”

The table falls silent.

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