Brief Encounters

Timeline 1 (Part 19)

Jeanna's Point of View

I woke to the warmth of William's arms around me, the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing blending with the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. His presence was comforting, a rare moment of peace in a world that often felt too chaotic.

I opened my eyes slowly, catching the way he was looking at me—gentle, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. "Morning," I murmured, my voice still thick with sleep, a lazy smile tugging at my lips.

"Morning," he replied, brushing a strand of hair from my face and pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

For a few blissful minutes, we stayed there, lost in the quietness of the moment. These were the times I treasured most, when it was just us, away from the noise and the constant demands of his royal life.

But, of course, reality had a way of intruding. His phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand, breaking the spell. I raised an eyebrow at him, half-teasing. "Ah, your girlfriend again?" I said playfully, though the weight of unspoken thoughts lingered beneath the surface. Catherine. The rumors. The endless speculation.

William sighed, glancing at the phone before tossing it aside. "Not today," he muttered, leaning down to kiss me. It was the kind of kiss that said everything he couldn't bring himself to say.

"Let's go to my place," I whispered against his lips, the words coming out without much thought. "I'll make breakfast. Or we can settle for coffee if I'm feeling lazy."

He grinned. "Sounds perfect."

It didn't take long for us to slip out of the flat, laughter spilling between us as we climbed into the car. Simon was quiet as ever, his expression unreadable, but I caught the faintest hint of a knowing smile. William joked about carrying me up the stairs, and I laughed, swatting at his arm.

But when I opened the door to my apartment, my laughter froze. "Dad?" I said, my voice catching in surprise.

Standing in the living room, arms crossed and an amused smile playing on his face, was my father.

"Well," he said, his tone dry but warm, "it's nice to know the rumors have at least some truth to them."

I felt my cheeks flush as I quickly stepped forward to kiss him on the cheek. "You could've called," I said, trying to sound casual, though my heart was racing. "I would've tidied up."

He chuckled, glancing toward William, who stood awkwardly behind me. "Figured I'd surprise you. It is your birthday, after all," he said, gesturing toward the kitchen. My eyes followed, landing on a plate of perfectly stacked pancakes topped with berries and syrup.

Oh no. My birthday.

I turned to William, catching the brief flash of guilt on his face. He hadn't remembered. But I didn't say anything, just smiled softly, letting it go.

Breakfast was a mix of light conversation and underlying tension. Dad was charming as always, regaling me with stories of my childhood that made William laugh, though I could tell he was trying a little too hard to make a good impression.

"You've raised an incredible daughter," William said at one point, his voice earnest. "I'm grateful she lets me be part of her life."

Dad gave him a long, measuring look before responding. "I hope you know how lucky you are," he said evenly. "Jeanna deserves someone who respects her, prince or not."

I squeezed William's hand under the table, hoping to ease the tension. "Dad, don't scare him off," I said lightly, though I knew my father's protectiveness came from a good place.

By the time breakfast was over, the atmosphere had softened. Dad told more stories—like the time I stubbornly insisted on tying my shoes by myself for an entire week until I got it right, or my first big performance in school when I took the stage without a hint of fear.

As William cleared the dishes, Dad and I settled on the couch. He leaned back, his expression softening as he looked at me. "You've grown up so much, Jeanna," he said quietly, brushing a strand of hair from my face like he used to when I was little.

I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling a wave of gratitude for the man who had always been my anchor. "Thanks for breakfast, Dad," I said softly.

When William returned, Dad straightened, his playful grin returning. "So, William," he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of seriousness. "What's next on the agenda? Something grand, I hope. Or should I be concerned about... inappropriate birthday surprises?"

"Dad," I groaned, though I couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

William laughed too, his eyes meeting mine with a mixture of amusement and relief. "I'll keep it classy," he promised, his tone light but sincere.

As Dad left later that morning, I turned to William, leaning into him. "You survived," I teased, a small smile playing on my lips.

"Barely," he replied, wrapping his arms around me. "Your dad doesn't mess around."

"No," I said, resting my head on his chest. "He doesn't. But he means well."

William kissed the top of my head. "So do I," he murmured.

And in that moment, with the warmth of his arms around me. I felt safe.