Brief Encounters

Part 16

The days blurred together in a haze of meetings, public engagements, and the ever-pressing demands of the crown. The schedule left little room to breathe, let alone think about anything else. Yet, no matter how packed my days were, my thoughts always drifted to her.

Jeanna was halfway around the world on her tour, her days filled with rehearsals, performances, and press appearances. Every now and then, I'd get a message-a quick text, a photo, or a voice note that brought her closer, even if only for a moment.

Roe was with her. His social media posts were more frequent and far more chaotic-photos of Jeanna pulling faces backstage, videos of impromptu dance-offs in hotel rooms, and, once, a picture of her passed out on a couch surrounded by empty takeaway containers.

It was comforting to know she wasn't alone, that she had someone who understood her world in a way I couldn't. Yet, every update was a bittersweet reminder that I couldn't be there with her. I couldn't be him.

Roe seemed to be everywhere. If Jeanna was on stage, there he was, grinning in the wings with a bouquet he'd snagged from somewhere. If she was backstage, his arm was slung casually over her shoulder, their laughter so carefree it stung. The photos and videos, meant to include me in her life, only highlighted just how far away I was. He got to see the parts of her I was missing-the quiet moments before a performance, the victory dinners after a successful show, the inside jokes I was never privy to.

One video hit me particularly hard. In it, Jeanna was sitting cross-legged on the floor of her hotel room, her hair pulled into a messy bun. She was laughing so hard she could barely speak, clutching her sides as Roe narrated some ridiculous story about their cab ride to the venue. Her laughter was infectious, her face glowing with joy, and for a moment, it felt like the distance between us didn't matter.

But then Roe's voice chimed in, teasing her about her "terrible sense of direction" and earning a playful shove from her. The ease between them-the way she didn't have to hold back, didn't have to worry about being anything but herself-twisted something inside me. I trusted Jeanna, but that didn't stop the nagging thought: was I enough for her when I was stuck here, weighed down by duty?

As the video ended, the weight of everything came crashing back. I was here, in the confines of tradition and expectation, while she was out there, living a life so different from mine, with someone who seemed to fit into her world effortlessly.

The next morning, I was in a meeting with my father, discussing the finer details of an upcoming state visit. The conversation was dry, as usual, filled with protocol and expectations.

"William, are you even listening?" my father snapped, his tone sharp.

I straightened in my chair, pushing thoughts of Jeanna-and Roe-aside. "Of course," I replied, though the truth was far from it.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You need to focus."

I nodded, offering the expected response, but inside, my thoughts were miles away.

That evening, as I prepared for yet another engagement, my phone buzzed again. This time, it was Jeanna.

Jeanna: "Just finished the show. Missed a note during the second act, and Roe hasn't let me hear the end of it. Wish you were here."

I stared at the message for a moment, the ache of missing her settling deep in my chest. Roe, of course, would have something to say-he always did. And he was always there. I wanted to reply, to tell her how proud I was of her, how much I missed her, but the words felt inadequate.

Instead, I sent a quick response:
Me: "Wish I were too. You'll have to give me a private performance when you're back."

Her reply came almost instantly.
Jeanna: "Deal. But only if you promise not to fall asleep halfway through."

I smiled at her playful jab, pocketing my phone as I stepped into the car waiting to take me to the gala. The night ahead was filled with handshakes, speeches, and carefully choreographed interactions, but all I could think about was the sound of her laughter and the promise of her return.

This was the reality we lived in-two people pulled in opposite directions by lives that didn't fit together. But no matter the distance or the demands, I knew one thing for certain: she was worth every sacrifice.

Even if it meant swallowing my jealousy and trusting that her laughter with Roe wasn't something I needed to compete with.