Who Are You?

An Dreaded Conference

She scribbled furiously on her notepad

.The Prince Conference
Notes taken
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Her heart  thundered in her chest, leg hammering against the chair.

She's about to see him again.

"You're not the one being interviewed." a taunting voice chuckled into her ear.

She snapped her head to Orry, grinning with his Cheshire smile , his bright white  teeth glinting off the palace lights.

"Unless of course" he drawled, hands raking through his slick jet black hair

"You're nervous for other reason"

His stubby finger  pointed to a portrait of Vihaan to the side-she almost didn't recognise him. He wore a stiff expression on his face, almost unreadable, eye brows in line and eyes hardened and he was boxed up in a velvety red suit with golden buttons sewed into the side. So formal and so princely and yet he was so much more different from what she remembered

"Oh shut it" she snapped instead, lightly hitting the notepad on Orry's head.

"It's just-There are so many people here"

She wasn't wrong.

There was practically a sea of people in front of her who sat before the open space where Vihaan was supposed to  give the conference. There was no way he would be able to recognise her , from the distance Payal was sitting . And maybe it was better that way

"I don't even  understand why Mrs. Aurora asked me to cover this story …she should have given it to someone else. Or leave it, the royals are always so mellow with the questions-not worth it if you ask me"

Truth is, even after becoming a journalist, maintaining a healthy relationship with both her parents, and putting her infamous website behind her-some things still pulled her back to the past.   And this was one of them. Payal did everything she could to delete all the numbers she had of him, got a new phone and number-deleted all photos or memories she had, laid low for a good few  months- and yet here she was, running right back to the past.

And suddenly the urge over took her body to run. Maybe this isn't worth it. Maybe she should just run away? What if Vihaan did recognise her?

Her job was on the line-working for India Times was no joke- but the thought of being recognised and drowned back into what she was desperately trying to escape daunted her.

Suddenly whispers spurred around her. Airy whistles passing from one person to another, Orry squealed, hands pressing on hers as he peered to the door entrance  like everyone else.

Oh Shit.

Her breath fell short, hands curling deeper into Orry's.

The blood drained from her skin- cold and fast, leaving her paler than paper

She caught a glimpse of him-the spitting of the portrait on the wall-but to her almost unrecognisable.

Stiff, standoffish and almost miserable.

HIs hair glossed with gel, his red suit seemed to be more luxurious than in the photo, the deep bloody red, matching his intense gaze.

It dragged upon every single person in this room, slow and with scrutiny like slow poison consuming an entire body. The air heatened, sticking to her skin, crawling.

Once the whispers died down the prince exhaled, his head lolling to the ground as if trying to recollect himself.

His hands latched to his back, before his head straightened again,
"Listen" his voice reverberated across the room, echoing  off each enormous wall . "There will be no conference. You should all go back"