Page 70 of Matched with the Grumpy Secret Prince

I nod, clenching my hands in my lap. “He was outside Mia’s shop.”

Riley turns fully, ignoring the seamstress’s tiny gasp of protest as she moves away from the pedestal. “Okay. And?”

I hesitate. “And I told him I didn’t want to hear his excuses.”

She exhales, nodding slowly. “All right. And how do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. He was gone for a month, Riley. A whole month, without a single word, and now he—shows up. Like that’s supposed to mean something.”

Riley studies me for a long moment before taking a step closer. “Sophie, I get it. I do. But…” She tilts her head slightly. “You don’t think you should at least hear him out?”

I instinctively shake my head—and then pause. The idea lingers longer than I want it to.

“I’m not saying you have to forgive him,” she continues. “I’m not even saying you have to let him back in. But if he’s here to explain, don’t you think you owe it to yourself to know the truth?”

The truth.

The word claws at me.

Because the truth is, Idowant to know.

I want to understand why he left, why he disappeared, why it felt like we were heading toward something real, only for him to vanish like it never meant anything at all.

Riley gives me a knowing look. “Listen first. Then decide.”

I press my lips together, my mind already made up before I can process it.

I need to go. I need to hear what Graham has to say.

I step out of the bridal shop, the bell chiming behind me. My feet move before my thoughts catch up, pushing me forward, my heart pounding harder than it should.

I’m walking fast. Too fast.

I barely notice the blur of storefronts and the way the pavement curves beneath my heels. My pulse is too loud, my head is too full.

And then—bam.

I collide with someone—solid, unmovable, and far too familiar.

Strong hands catch my arms before I can stumble, and for a split second, the world stills.

I look up.

Graham.

His hands fall away like he’s been shocked, like my touch burned right through him—but he doesn’t move back. His gaze, wide and wary, locks onto mine, searching, questioning, like he’s trying to decide if this moment is real.

For a moment, neither of us speak.

I inhale deeply, steadying myself. “Talk.”

His jaw tightens, like he’s bracing himself, but then—he does.

He tells me everything.

About the phone call that changed everything—his parents’ accident, their recovery, how his brother had to be crowned king immediately to prevent political unrest.

Wait… King?!I’ve barely wrapped my head around the words when he drops the part that makes my head spin.

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