⟡ Brief Encounters ⟡

⟡ 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 3 - 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒚𝒂𝒍 𝑰𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒓𝒚 ⟡

Prince William's Point of View

From my seat in the jeepney, bouncing along a muddy mountain road miles away from the palace gates and polished marble floors of home, I caught myself watching her again.

Jeanna

We'd come to the Philippines for a break—a real one. No cameras. No gala dinners. Just two brothers trying to disappear for a while. We'd pictured sun, local bars, maybe a few harmless adventures. We hadn't factored in anyone like her.

But there she was—laughing at something Paul said, her eyes dancing with that spark of curiosity and mischief. No pretense. No carefully constructed façade. Just... her.

And it hit me—how rare that felt.

As the jeepney jolted around another bend, I realized I was smiling. Not the smile I practiced for cameras or charity dinners. A real one. The kind that creeps up before you even notice.

I tried to shake the thought. Romance? Now? Not exactly in the royal itinerary.

But there was something about her. Something normal, in the best kind of way. The kind of girl who didn't flinch at muddy shoes or teasing royalty. Who laughed with her whole face. Who looked at you like she saw you—not your title.

Harry, of course, noticed.

"You've got that look," he said, leaning over with an entirely unsubtle grin.

I raised an eyebrow. "What look?"

"The one where you're already writing your wedding speech in your head," he quipped. "Don't worry. I'll be your best man. Again."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't suppress the smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "Not everything is a royal rom-com, Harry."

He shrugged. "Could've fooled me. You're practically glowing."

I ignored him. Mostly.

The jeepney finally slowed, pulling into the small terminal. Our black SUVs were waiting nearby, polished and imposing, a sharp contrast to the simple, vibrant life we'd just shared a glimpse of.

But before we could step back into the world of security briefings and protocol, Harry—being Harry—decided he wasn't done stirring the pot.

He turned to Jeanna and Paul with that familiar glint in his eye. "Before we vanish back to royal duties and sad little cucumber sandwiches... mind sharing your numbers? Strictly for tour guide purposes, of course."

He said it with a grin that dared anyone to take him seriously.

Jeanna didn't miss a beat. "Of course," she said smoothly, pulling out her phone with a confidence that honestly made her even more captivating.

Paul, grinning like he'd just been handed royal tea, exchanged numbers with Harry like it was a secret code being passed under the table.

"If you're ever in London," Harry added, nudging me, "and want a night out on flat ground—no mudslides involved—you know who to call."

I gave him a shove toward the car. "Enough, Harry."

But I couldn't stop the grin that lingered.

We climbed into our respective vehicles, the windows slightly fogged from the mist and mountain air. Harry leaned back in his seat with that smug expression he wore far too well.

"Still smiling, Will?" he asked, cocking his head. "Already dreaming of your next holiday—or is it your next conversation with a certain charming Filipino woman?"

I gave him my best glare. "Oh, shut up."

But the truth was... I was still smiling.

And for the first time in a long while, I didn't mind where that thought might lead.