His Princess

One

Alec Ramirez

My thoughts were tangled, running wild as if each memory was competing for space in my mind.

Maybe I overreacted last night when Mara mentioned her name at dinner. The moment she said it, my whole world tilted, and I had to fight to keep my expression neutral. Hearing her name, especially from someone else's lips, felt like a punch to the gut. It had been five years, but somehow, the pain still simmered beneath the surface, raw and relentless. They say time heals all wounds, but does it? Because this one seemed immune, anchored too deep to fade.

And now, as if on some twisted whim, I had gone and hired the very person responsible for tearing through my life like a storm. Melody Meyers steps into my office, a stack of files in her arms. Her movements are calm, deliberate, each step a reminder of how composed she always seemed, even when everything between us was anything but. She carefully sets the papers on my desk and flips open a leather-bound planner, her eyes focused yet distant, giving nothing away.

"Shall we go over your schedule for today, sir?" she asks, her voice clipped and professional.

Once upon a time, Melody was everything to me. My first love, the one I thought would be my last. We met in high school, a lifetime ago now, when things felt simpler, when love was raw and uncomplicated. I loved her with a naïveté I can't ever get back, and back then, I couldn't imagine a future that didn't include her. But, as some high school relationships do, ours unraveled. I learned she'd cheated on me with an older man, a revelation that hit like a sledgehammer. She left me shattered, with no way to piece myself back together.

We somehow managed to stay friends through college—though I never really understood why. Perhaps I wanted to prove that I'd moved on, or maybe I just wanted to keep her close enough to remember the pain. Now, this job has brought her back into my life, but that part of me—the part that used to believe in us—is long gone. What remains is a fragile, fractured friendship, and I've finally learned that's all there will ever be.

Then I found her.

Aurora Kaligaris. A whirlwind of color and energy, a Greek fashion design student who took our university by storm. She was infamous for her ever-changing hair—vibrant shades that shifted every couple of months. It wasn't just a streak here or a subtle tint; her colors were bold, fearless, practically shouting at the world. Every shade she chose turned heads, no matter where she went. She was loud, confident, and unapologetically herself—everything that Melody wasn't. And, somehow, I found myself irresistibly drawn to her. Somehow, I fell.

Aurora was the light that cracked through the shadows I'd unknowingly wrapped around myself. She was a vibrant, unstoppable force, pulling me out of my self-made cocoon of gray. Where my life had dulled, she brought vividness, color, life. She filled every dark corner with her boldness, and from the moment she entered, nothing had been the same.

Not even now, with Melody standing in front of me.

"Sir?" Her voice cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.

"Yes, go on," I reply, shaking off the memories and focusing on the task at hand as she promptly reviews my schedule. "Thank you," I say once she finishes. "Start typing these," I add, tapping the pile of documents on my right. They need a thorough revision before I can send them back to the finance department.

"Of course, sir," she replies, a polite smile crossing her face before she gathers the papers and leaves the office.

Having Melody work here feels like a form of self-imposed torment, a test of endurance that I still can't quite explain to myself. Why I agreed to put her in my orbit again remains a mystery, even to me. But here I am.