Thousands of miles away, in the quiet coastal town of Jacobs Bay, South Africa, Liam Hart stood on a narrow cliff path above the ocean. The wind tugged at his hoodie, salt air brushing his cheeks. Below, the sea pounded the rocks in rhythmic fury. He’d walked here as a boy, as a teenager trying to escape the crush of expectations, and now again as a man who had almost forgotten how to breathe.
His father sat on a nearby bench, arms crossed, giving him space.
“You want to talk?” Willem eventually asked.
Liam shook his head. “Not yet.”
They sat in silence a while longer. The gulls cried above them. Somewhere in the distance, church bells rang - a wedding, maybe. Or a funeral.
Finally, Liam said, “What if it’s really over?”
Willem met his eyes, calm and sure. “Then you’ll still stand. Because you are not made of the things he gave you. You are made of the fire that kept you going when he didn’t.”
Liam blinked hard. “You’re really good at this.”
“Your mother taught me. Don’t tell her I said so.”
They both laughed softly. It was small, but it was something.
A gust of wind swept past them, sharp with the scent of sea spray and memory. Liam tucked his hands into his hoodie pocket, fingers curling into fists. “He went to my apartment after we left. I saw it on social media. The video. The photos. Him, standing outside, looking..” He shook his head, the image too painful to finish.
Willem’s brow furrowed slightly. “He really went?”
“He did. The paparazzi caught it. He looked… destroyed.” Liam’s voice cracked on the last word, and he hated himself for how much it still mattered. “And I wasn’t even there to see it with my own eyes. Just these perfect little filtered frames, the kind people crop and caption like it’s a movie. Something they can dissect for entertainment without a care for the people in it.”
Willem remained silent, letting him speak.
Liam continued, more to the wind now than his father. “He didn’t call. Not before. Not after. But I guess he didn’t have to. Just show up. Get photographed. Go viral.” His tone soured. “You know how many people are messaging me? Strangers. Telling me to go back to him. That I was lucky. That I owe him something. Like grief is a currency, and I’m in his debt.”
Willem shifted on the bench. “You don’t owe anyone anything. Not even him.”
“I know.” Liam exhaled. “But it doesn’t stop me from wondering what could’ve happened if I’d stayed just one more day. If I’d gone back to the apartment for my jacket or my headphones or… I don’t know, some stupid thing that might’ve given fate a chance to show up.”
“Missed moments can haunt us if we let them.”
Liam scuffed the toe of his sneaker in the gravel. “He looked like he’d fallen apart.”
“And you haven’t?” Willem asked gently.
Liam laughed bitterly. “Yeah, I fell apart. With the quiet privilege of doing so in private. Alone. I just had a flight, a duffel bag, and the sound of my own heart breaking. And I also had you who thankfully stepped in to get me away from the chaos.”
Willem stayed quiet, but the stillness between them wasn’t empty. It was the kind of silence that held space for pain.
“I didn’t even know,” Liam continued, voice low. “Not until we landed in Cape Town. My phone blew up when I switched it back on. Missed calls. Messages. Group chats going crazy. People I hadn’t spoken to in years suddenly reaching out.”
He paused, the memory still raw. “At first I thought maybe he’d gotten hurt. Or worse. But then I started seeing the notifications. Articles. Clips. Photos. Him… standing outside my apartment building.” He looked… hollow. Like someone had turned the lights out inside him.”
Willem shifted slightly. “That must’ve been a shock.”
“It was.” Liam swallowed hard. “He looked like he’d lost everything. Hair a mess, shirt half-buttoned, like he hadn’t slept. His bodyguards were trying to shield him, but he wouldn’t let them. People were filming him from across the street, out their windows, behind car doors. And then he said something to one of the cameras, and the whole internet caught fire.”
Willem waited, sensing more was coming.
Liam drew in a shaky breath. “He shouted at the press that they were treating me like a fugitive when all I’d done wrong was to love him. Almost as if he felt himself unworthy of my love. He kept repeating how he should have protected me, how he was to blame for the mess that I was in.” His voice cracked. “He said it like a confession. Like it cost him something.”
Willem blinked. “And did it?”
Liam nodded. “He’s a prince. A future king. Every word is a headline. He hadn’t even had the chance to tell the press he was gay - like we’d discussed - with a carefully worded statement that could be controlled. And then suddenly, this.” He gave a small, exhausted laugh. “He outed himself to the world to tell them I loved him. But he still didn’t say he loved me.”
“Did you call him?”, Willem asked. “No. I didn’t.” Liam answered.
Willem retorted, and sounded somewhat disappointed in his son – “Maybe he still doesn’t know if he could say what he wanted?”
There it was - the tight knot of it all. The part Liam couldn’t untangle.
“ I don’t know if he didn’t say it because he’s not ready, or because it’s not true. And either way, I’d already left by then. I wasn’t there to hear it in person. Just these thirty-second reels and shaky phone videos with a hundred thousand likes.”
Willem’s voice was quiet. “And what did you feel, watching it?”
Liam was silent for a long time. “Angry. Gutted. Guilty. But also… like I wanted to get back on the plane and fly back to L.A. Like maybe if I could see him, grab a coffee with him, just chat, we might’ve..” He cut himself off, biting his lip.
“Rewritten the ending?” Willem offered.
Liam gave a hollow smile. “Something like that.”
His father stood, walking slowly to the edge of the cliff path. The wind tugged at his coat. He turned back to Liam. “You know, endings only stay endings if you stop moving.”
Liam raised his brows.
“If you had waited, maybe you would’ve found him there. Or maybe not. Maybe it would’ve been worse - cameras in your face, the world watching your heartbreak in real-time. But maybe it happened this way because it had to.”
Liam just stood there, silent beside his father at the edge. The sea thundered below them, relentless and infinite.
“I just keep thinking about what he said,” Liam murmured. “About me loving him. He said it like it was fact.”
“Was he wrong?”
Liam closed his eyes. “No. I did. I do. And that’s the part I can’t pack away in a neat little box.”
Willem’s answered, slow, measured. “Then don’t. Love doesn’t always have to be used up all at once. It can wait. It can shift. Sometimes it just… changes shape.”
Liam turned to him, eyes searching. “Do you think he’ll come back?”
Willem was quiet for a moment. “I think if he had the courage to show up once, he might find it again. But even if he doesn’t - even if this was the only time - you still mattered enough to break through centuries of tradition, protocol, and silence.”
Liam looked out at the horizon, where the sky dipped into silver and the ocean rolled on, endless and deep. “I just wish he’d told me he loved me. Before I left. I could’ve handled everything else if I’d heard that.”
Willem gave him a faint smile. “Maybe he didn’t say it because he wanted to show you first. Maybe going to your building, breaking down in front of the world - maybe that was his way.”
Liam didn’t reply - he couldn’t. His throat was too tight, his chest aching with a mix of sorrow and stubborn, lingering hope.
A gull cried overhead. The bells in the village rang again - three soft notes, carried on the wind.
Liam breathed deeply. “I don’t know what comes next.”
“You don’t have to,” Willem said. “You just have to keep walking.”
They were there a while longer, two figures against the sea, the past at their backs and the unknown ahead. Liam’s heart ached, yes - but it beat on, steady and open.
Willem leaned forward, looking straight at Liam. “And now?”
“I don’t know.” Liam paused. “I came home to remember who I was before him. But all I can think about is the version of me I was with him. The one who believed anything was possible.”
His father studied him. “You still believe that?”
“Some days.” Liam turned back to the ocean. “Other days, I just want to forget.”
“And which day is today?”
Liam took a long breath, the sea air sharp in his lungs. “Today’s a remembering day.”
Willem nodded. “That’s progress.”
A long silence stretched between them, broken only by the waves and wind.
“You know what really haunts me?” Liam said eventually. “It’s not the betrayal. Not even the public fallout. It’s that I think he came because he realized he’d lost me - but not because he was ready to change. Not ready to fight for us out loud. Not where it mattered. Not yet. Maybe he thought just showing up would be enough.”
Willem raised an eyebrow. “Was it?”
“No.” Liam answered immediately. “But… it almost was.”
Willem nodded slowly, understanding. “Because you love him.”
Liam nodded once. “Because I love him.”
Another silence passed. Then, quietly, Willem said, “Love isn’t about timing. It’s about growth. If he’s growing, and you are too… then who knows what the future holds.”
Liam wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, as casually as he could. “Do you think he’ll try again?”
“I don’t know, Boeta. But I know you’ll survive either way.”
Liam’s throat tightened. “What if I don’t want to just survive?”
Willem walked the few paces over, and placed a warm hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Then you keep your heart open. Not just for him, but for the life you’re building. The life you deserve.”
Liam looked up at him. “It hurts.”
“I know.”
“But I’m still here.”
“You are.”
They stood together in the wind, the sea thrumming below, the horizon wide and unwritten.
____
Back in Bologna, the palace’s Situation Room glowed with the cold light of monitors displaying the progress of Prince Carlo’s private jet en route to South Africa.
Queen Elena stood beside the Foreign Office’s desk, watching the flight tracker with quiet intensity.
"He told the crew not to schedule a return flight," Elena reflected softly. "He’s on a one-way trip - wherever it leads."
The Foreign Minister nodded. "His diplomatic passport grants him visa-free entry to South Africa for up to ninety days. We just need to issue a Note Verbale confirming his official status. It’ll take a couple of hours to process."
Elena exhaled, her shoulders lowering slightly. "Good. And Liam?"
The press secretary shifted uncomfortably. "We discovered that, professionally, he goes by Liam Hart instead of his legal surname, Marais. It complicated the search, but we eventually traced his parents - Mr. and Mrs. Willem and Anna Marais - in Jacobs Bay. It’s on the West Coast, the closest major city is Cape Town."
Elena closed her eyes, already tired of the subterfuge fame demanded. "Find them. I want someone discreet on standby near them at all times."
Aboard the jet, Carlo stared at his hands, thumb brushing the edge of his passport.
He was no diplomat, but his title and travel status meant legal entry wouldn’t be an issue. That was one burden off his chest. Once the jet touched down - first Johannesburg, then Cape Town - he’d still have to find Liam. And that part terrified him.
Back at the palace, Elena requested a private line. When the call connected, she inhaled deeply before speaking.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Marais? This is - well… Elena, calling from Bologna."
There was a pause. "Your Majesty?" Anna asked, clearly startled.
"Please, call me Elena." She paused, softening her tone. "I hope my call isn’t too forward. I wanted to speak to you personally… to apologize for my son’s behaviour – I assure you he did not act in a way that I raised him – and how apologetic I am for everything that’s happened. And to say how much I care about Liam. I only met him once, but he left a profound impression."
Anna shifted in her chair. "I - I appreciate your call, Your.. Elena.."
"Anna, I understand that we royals can seem... unreachable. As if we float above emotion or consequence. But that’s a fallacy. We are as vulnerable and fallible as anyone else. I’ve spoken to both our sons about their relationship. And while I cannot excuse Carlo’s missteps, I’ve seen enough to believe both their feelings are real - even if they’re not ready to admit it yet."
Anna swallowed. "I want to believe that. Carlo… he did say some kind things. But what does he really want from my son?"
Elena paused, her voice lowering. "I believe he wants love, not a scandal. He wants a second chance. And… the actual reason for my call - he’s on his way to South Africa. I believe he hopes to see Liam again, and I was calling to ask for your blessing - for him to visit Jacobs Bay."
Anna exhaled audibly, uncertainty colouring her words. "He’s really coming to Jacobs Bay?"
"Yes, with a small and discreet team. I apologize in advance - his security will be unobtrusive, and the palace will arrange separate accommodation. We don’t want to impose. This isn't about optics, Anna. It's about healing, and closure... maybe even reconciliation."
Anna clutched the phone. "I… I don’t know what to say. I’ve never been called by a queen before. But your son is welcome in my home, Elena, I will look after him as if he’s my own."
Elena chuckled gently. "Then this will be our first - and I hope not our last. And thank you for your willingness to look after my son – he needs a mother now, not extra security detail."
Anna stood at the kitchen window, staring out at the rolling waves as she ended the call. She had just spoken with a queen - not as a subject, but as a mother. And together, they may just help their sons to find their way back to each other
The hurt, protective woman who had demanded answers from her son only days ago was still there. But now she was joined by someone else: another woman who understood that love, and even more so, royal love, is complicated.
She fumbled with the phone still in her hand. Elena had just asked her for trust and help in overseeing the reunion that felt like a beginning.
A few hours later, back in the Situation Room, a staffer placed the finalized Note Verbale on Elena’s desk.
"Entry confirmed. We’ve also arranged entry protocols and local diplomatic support in case of any complications."
Elena nodded. "Charter a smaller aircraft to get him closer to Jacobs Bay. I want him as far from press and protocol as possible."
The Foreign Secretary moved quickly, coordinating with South African officials. A discreet landing strip near Jacobs Bay was identified, and a modest plane prepared.
Elena stood still for a moment, listening to the room’s quiet hum.
"We’re doing the right thing," she murmured. "Diplomatic cover. Legal clearance. And emotional clarity. All of it matters."
Onboard the smaller aircraft, Carlo leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.
Grief. Hope. Love. Regret. They all churned inside him.
But for the first time, he was going somewhere that didn’t require him to perform. No velvet ropes, no formal handshakes, no forced smiles.
____
At the edge of Jacobs Bay, Liam stood watching the horizon. The wind carried a change with it - something he couldn’t name. A shift, like breath before a word. He didn’t know Carlo was already on his way to him, closer than either of them had dared to hope. But part of him felt it. And for the first time in days, he didn’t walk away from the edge. He stayed.
The sun had dipped low, painting the cliffs in amber and rose. The wind had quieted. Down the winding path from the house, near a small bluff overlooking the water, Liam, his father long gone back to the house, he stood alone - or thought he did - watching the waves with a numb sort of peace. He’d barely heard the crunch of gravel behind him.
But he felt it.
He turned slowly.
Carlo was there.
No security detail. No press. Just Carlo. Windswept and hesitant, dressed down in a plain gray sweater and dark jeans, hair damp from travel, or maybe, anxiety - Liam couldn’t tell which.
He looked exhausted, older than he had weeks ago, but still impossibly, achingly, familiar.
Their eyes met across ten cautious steps.
Liam didn’t speak. Couldn’t. His breath had locked in his chest.
Carlo did, his voice hoarse. “ I couldn’t stay away.”
Liam blinked hard. His throat worked around a thousand unsaid things. “You found me.”
“I didn’t find you,” Carlo said softly. “I followed my heart. And it led here.”
The silence stretched between them, vast and fragile. A gull called somewhere above, the only sound other than the steady pull of the tide. The aroma of the indigenous fynbos on the dune lingered in the background.
Carlo took a careful step forward. “I saw the videos on the internet - saw the look in your eyes the night you left. I saw it too late. I thought… I thought I had more time. That love could wait until I had the right words. But you needed me then, not someday.”
“You didn’t say it,” Liam whispered. “I was begging for you, and you didn’t say it.”
“I know,” Carlo said, pain flickering through his expression. “And I hate myself for it. Because I did love you. I do. And I let fear dictate my silence.”
Liam folded his arms tightly, as if holding himself together. “You came all this way just to say that?”
“I came because I couldn’t let the last image you have of me be of the man who stood in silence while the world tore you apart.”
Liam’s lips parted, but no words came. Emotion choked him.
Carlo stepped closer. “I don’t expect forgiveness. But I want you to know - I didn’t come here to fix things for the press. I came here as a man who couldn’t sleep another night without seeing your face.”
Liam let out a shuddered breath. “I watched the video, you know. The one of you outside my apartment. You looked... like you were afraid. Hurt.”
Carlo nodded, something fragile in his eyes. “I was. I am.”
A beat passed. Then Liam, slowly, took one step forward. “Why didn’t you say you loved me then? When all the world was watching?”
Carlo’s voice broke as he answered. “Because the only person I wanted to hear it… wasn’t there.”
The wind stirred, curling around them like something alive.
“I love you, Liam,” Carlo said, finally. “I’ve loved you through every sleepless night, every headline, every aching regret. I love you now, in this quiet, at the edge of the world.”
Liam's breath hitched, and then - suddenly, finally - he closed the distance between them.
Their bodies collided in an embrace that was less graceful and more desperate - arms clinging, hands grasping, as if to confirm this was real. Carlo’s forehead pressed against Liam’s shoulder. Liam’s fingers curled into the fabric of Carlo’s sweater.
Neither spoke. Not for a long time.
Only the closeness mattered.
Only the heartbeat between them.
When they finally pulled apart, Liam looked at him - really looked. “This doesn’t fix everything.”
“I know,” Carlo said. “But maybe it’s the start of something new. Something better.”
“I don’t want to live in hiding,” Liam murmured. “Not anymore.”
Carlo reached for his hand. “Then let’s not. Let’s build something that belongs to us. Whatever it takes. However long.”
Liam hesitated. Then he laced their fingers together.
Wordlessly, they walked down the narrow bluff path until they reached the old, weather-beaten bench overlooking the ocean. They sat, shoulders brushing, quiet in the hush of dusk.
Carlo leaned his head back, eyes half-closed. “This place… it’s beautiful.”
“It’s home,” Liam replied.
“Could it be ours?” Carlo asked gently. “Even just for a little while?”
Liam turned to him. There was so much he wanted to say - about trust, about hope, about the cost of leaving and the risk of returning. But instead, he leaned in.
The kiss was slow. Familiar. Not a beginning, not an end, but a continuation - the breath after a sob, the silence after a storm.
And when it broke, Carlo rested his forehead against Liam’s.
“I’m here now,” he whispered.
Liam nodded, eyes closed, finally letting himself believe it.
“So am I.”
The sea thundered below them, unchanged. But above it, something shifted - something soft, and steady, and new.
They sat in silence for a while, fingers still laced, breath syncing with the rhythm of the sea. Then Carlo turned, brushing a strand of windblown hair from Liam’s brow, his touch feather-light but certain.
“Come inside with me,” Liam murmured. Not a demand. A question wrapped in hope.
The porch light was on, but the house was still and quiet. His parents, with the kind of grace only time could teach, had taken an overnight trip into town – just a note, no fuss, just an unspoken gift of space.
Carlo looked at him - really looked - and nodded.
They rose without words. Hand in hand, they left the bluff behind, walking slowly up the path toward the house, where the porch light burned warm against the coming dark.
Behind them, the sea kept its steady rhythm. Ahead, the door waited - not a threshold, but an invitation.
And tonight, finally, neither of them would sleep alone. If they slept at all..
