Youth [MikhAiah] [Book #1]

22

—🦊—

MIKHA

I can't stop thinking about Aiah, even as the limousine glides through the crowded streets on the way to the airport. The hum of the engine and the rhythmic sounds of the city passing by should calm me, but instead, they do nothing to ease the weight that's settled in my chest. My thoughts keep circling back to the message I sent her this morning—how I had to tell her about the arranged date my father set up. The guilt gnaws at me, but there's no escaping this.

Sitting across from me, Juno is quiet, hands steady on the wheel as he navigates through traffic. The tension in the air is thick, a silent reminder that I'm on my way to pick up Denise—the "potential partner" my parents have chosen for me.

As the limousine nears the airport, my phone vibrates in my pocket. A quick glance reveals no messages from Aiah since this morning. I imagine her hurt, even though she told me to be careful and said she understood. I know she's hurting, but what choice do I have? It's my duty to at least show up and play the role they've set for me.

The airport is buzzing with people. As soon as we pull up to the VIP entrance, cameras flash, and reporters clamor to get a glimpse of what's going on. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I can already picture the headlines:

"Prince Mikha Meets Future Wife," or worse,

"Mikha's Royal Romance Revealed."

Juno steps out first, moving swiftly to open the door for me. I adjust my cap, a poor attempt to shield myself from the scrutiny of the public. Stepping out of the car, I scan the crowd, spotting Denise almost immediately. She stands near the terminal, surrounded by bodyguards and reporters, her designer coat and sunglasses making her look every bit the part of a royal-to-be.

As soon as she sees me, a bright, almost too perfect smile lights up her face, and she starts walking toward me, her heels clicking against the pavement.

"Mikha!" Denise's voice is sweet, louder than necessary for the cameras that are undoubtedly zooming in on us. Without hesitation, she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me into a close hug. It's all for show, I know that, but still, I stiffen at the unexpected contact.

I glance around, feeling the eyes of the media on us, the flashing of cameras relentless. Denise leans in closer, whispering in my ear as she maintains her perfect, media-friendly smile. "Smile for the cameras, Mikha," she murmurs. Her arm snakes around my waist, holding me tightly as we pose for the photographers, her head resting lightly on my shoulder.

The moment feels like an eternity, and all I can think about is Aiah. How much I hate this, how much I wish I could be with her instead of here, playing this ridiculous role.

After what feels like an eternity of posing and waving to the crowd, we finally make our way back to the limousine. Denise keeps her arm linked with mine, still smiling brightly for the cameras. I can feel Juno's eyes on me as he holds the door open, his expression carefully neutral, though I know he senses my discomfort.

Once we're safely inside the limo, the change in Denise is immediate. The moment the door closes, she drops her hand from my arm and slides her sunglasses back onto her face, her entire demeanor shifting. Gone is the affectionate, media-friendly girl; in her place is someone much cooler, more indifferent.

She stretches out comfortably on the leather seat, crossing her legs and glancing out the window. "Ugh, I thought the media would never stop," she mutters, more to herself than to me.