Bound By Fate

Conflicting Hearts

Mon sat on the edge of the bed, her mind swirling with Sam’s words. She couldn’t shake the weight of the conversation—the way Sam had said it, with a sadness that lingered like an unshed tear. It was as if Sam wasn’t just talking about leaving the palace but about something far more permanent.

"She sounded like she was about to go,” Mon murmured, her voice quiet but tinged with worry.

Kim, who was folding a blanket nearby, turned sharply to face her. “Leave what?”

Mon hesitated for a moment, then repeated softly, “She said I should stay here and enjoy the palace... once she’s gone. She only has three weeks left.”

Kim raised an eyebrow, her skepticism evident. “Three weeks left for what? What kind of ridiculous game is she playing now?”

Mon looked down at her hands, fingers nervously twisting the edge of the bedsheet. “I don’t think it’s a game, Kim. She sounded serious. Almost... resigned.”

Kim scoffed, crossing her arms. “Resigned? Mon, wake up. She’s just saying things to win you over, to make you pity her. Don’t fall for it.”

“But why would she lie about something like that?” Mon said, her voice rising with a mix of frustration and confusion. “She’s a princess, Kim. She doesn’t need to go out of her way to gain anyone’s sympathy, let alone mine. And the way she looked at me... it was like she was holding back so much pain.”

Kim rolled her eyes, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in her expression. “Pain? Mon, she’s royalty. What kind of pain could she possibly have? She’s lived in a palace her whole life. Stop overthinking this.”

Mon sighed, her shoulders slumping. “You don’t understand, Kim. She... she saved me. She could’ve walked away, but she didn’t. She took care of me. And now, she’s saying she’s leaving, like—like she’s running out of time.”

Kim sat down beside her sister, her tone softening. “Mon, you’ve always been kindhearted, and that’s a good thing. But don’t let it blind you. People like her—they’re good at making others believe their stories. Whatever she’s going through, it’s not your responsibility.”

Mon glanced at Kim, her lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re wrong, Kim. I don’t know why, but I feel like... like I need to understand her. Like there’s something more she’s not telling me.”

Kim groaned and threw her hands up. “Fine. Believe whatever you want. But don’t come crying to me when she turns out to be just another manipulative royal.”

Mon nodded absently, not really listening anymore. Her mind was already back with Sam, replaying every word, every glance.

Later That Night

The palace was silent, the soft glow of moonlight spilling through the tall windows. Kim had long since fallen asleep, her quiet snores filling the room. But Mon lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts a chaotic mess.

Three weeks left.

What did Sam mean by that? Was she dying? Was she leaving the palace? Why had her words carried such finality?

The more Mon thought about it, the more restless she became. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Sam’s face—the mixture of warmth and sorrow in her expression. The way her voice had softened, almost as if she were trying to prepare Mon for something.

Mon sat up, hugging her knees to her chest. She had never felt this way before. Curious. Worried. Drawn to someone in a way she couldn’t explain.

“Why do I care so much?” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the quiet room.