Brief Encounters

Timeline 1 (Part 28)

The next morning brought unsettling news: Dad had been experiencing chest pains, likely due to angina. While not immediately life-threatening, it was serious enough to interfere with his breathing and daily life.

"Sirs, Prince Charles has requested your presence in his office immediately," Patrick announced, his tone calm but with a quiet urgency.

Harry and I exchanged a brief glance—just a flicker of understanding. Neither of us spoke, but the question was clear: What now?

We followed Patrick through the familiar halls, their usual stateliness feeling heavier today. Outside Dad's office, the Queen—Granny—was already inside, speaking with him, along with a few senior advisors. Harry and I waited in the corridor, leaning against opposite walls. The silence stretched between us, heavy with anticipation.

I stole a glance at Harry. He was staring ahead, his arms folded tightly across his chest. I could see the tension in his posture, though he gave nothing away.

This wasn't how I'd planned to start the day. Sure, Dad and I had our differences—who doesn't?—but beneath the complications of duty and personality, he was still my father. I cared for him deeply, even if I didn't always know how to show it. The thought of his health deteriorating left me feeling unsteady, more vulnerable than I cared to admit.

The door opened at last, and Granny emerged, flanked by the advisors. Her expression was composed as always, but her eyes carried a quiet gravity. She gave us a small nod, her lips pressing into a thin line. We kissed her cheeks as she passed, and she rested a hand on my arm briefly—a gesture of reassurance, or perhaps a quiet warning.

Inside, Dad was seated near the window, his chair angled slightly toward the morning light. His posture was still firm, but there was a weariness about him that hadn't been there before. His expression was composed, but his eyes betrayed the faintest flicker of unease.

He gestured to the chairs in front of him. "Sit down."

We did, the room settling into a heavy silence. Dad leaned forward, clasping his hands together, his gaze moving between us.

"There's something we need to discuss," he began. His voice was steady, but there was no mistaking the weight behind his words.

"My health," he said simply. "It's not failing, but it's... changing. The doctors have made that clear. It's nothing immediate, but enough to remind me—and us—that time isn't infinite."

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. Even though we all knew this day would come eventually, hearing him acknowledge it made it real in a way I wasn't prepared for.

"And your grandmother," he continued, his tone softening. "She's done remarkably well. But we can't ignore the reality. The transition to your reign, William, may come sooner than any of us would wish."

The words landed heavily. I'd always understood the inevitability of it all, but now it felt impossibly close, no longer a distant concept but a looming certainty.

Dad's gaze sharpened. "We need to talk about the future. About stability. About the monarchy's image. This isn't just about you, William—it's about the Crown."

I nodded slowly, already anticipating what was coming next.

"You need a wife," he said, his tone blunt but not unkind. "The public expects it. The institution demands it. Kate Middleton, Jeanna de Waal... it's time to make a decision."

Harry shifted beside me, his body tensing.

Dad's tone softened slightly. "I'll be honest, William. I've seen what Jeanna brings out in you, and I respect her for that. She's spirited, intelligent—clearly someone you care for deeply. But this life isn't easy. Kate understands it. She's prepared for it. Jeanna..." He hesitated, his expression faltering just slightly. "I'm not sure she is. And I'm not certain she'd want it, either."

The words weren't surprising, but they still stung. I knew Jeanna wasn't raised for this life—it wasn't what she'd ever wanted. But dismissing her felt... unfair.

"You've always been level-headed," Dad continued. "But the Crown doesn't allow for endless time or indecision. Choose carefully, but choose soon."

Harry finally broke the silence, his voice calm but pointed. "And if William chooses neither?"

Dad turned to Harry, his gaze steady. "Then he'll need a very good explanation. To the public, to Parliament, to the world. This isn't a decision that can be delayed."

As we left the office, Harry and I walked side by side down the long corridor. Our footsteps echoed in the quiet, neither of us speaking.

I glanced at Harry, but his face was unreadable. I knew he had thoughts—he always did—but I didn't have the space to ask. My own mind was crowded with everything that had just been laid at my feet.

The future no longer felt like a far-off inevitability. It was here, pressing down on me with the weight of the Crown itself.