ELLE'S POV
I decided to escape for a while today. Not from the palace—more from the noise inside my own head. Last night was still too fresh, too loud. I wasn't ready for anyone's explanations. What I needed was a pause.
The kingdom owned a small island in Southeast Asia—white sand, crystal-clear waters, and wind that always whispered softly. That was where I wanted to hide. My private jet was already waiting on the runway. I didn't bring anyone from the family. But of course, I wasn't truly alone. Christian was there—my shadow that never strayed too far.
12 hours later
White sand stretched below the cabin window of the small helicopter that carried me from the island's airport. The shoreline glittered; rows of coconut trees swayed and whispered to the wind. Waves crashed against the shore in a rhythm that calmed me. The sea was so blue and clear it felt like my burdens could dissolve in it. At least here, I could breathe.
We walked toward a coastal cottage built of pale wood, filled with windows and glass doors that welcomed the world in. The living room opened straight onto a terrace, and beyond it, the sea spread endlessly. It felt like stepping into a postcard.
AUTHOR'S POV
After dropping their belongings, Elle and Christian sat on the terrace, legs dangling over warm sand.
"Chris," Elle said softly, eyes fixed on the horizon. "While we're here… let's just be two ordinary people on holiday. I need to step away from being a princess."
Christian studied her face. "So… I'm off duty?"
Elle nodded. "For a few days. No protocols. No distance."
"Okay, Elle," he replied, his tone light though his eyes stayed watchful. "What do you want to do first?"
Elle shrugged, but before she could answer, Christian stood, took her hand, and—without warning—covered her eyes with both palms.
"Trust me," he whispered.
He led her over the sand. When he finally let go, Elle blinked open her eyes. Her fingertips were wet—the sea was brushing against her feet. The waves came and went, hesitant, like someone unsure about knocking on a door.
They walked along the shoreline. The sun was high, its light scattering across the water like shards of glass.
"Shouldn't we be wearing sunscreen?" Elle teased. "Don't want you getting sunburned, do we?"
"I brought some." Christian pulled a bottle from his backpack, raising an eyebrow. "Want me to put it on for you, Princess?"
"Yep." Elle slipped off her thin shirt, revealing a blue bikini that blended with the sea itself. She sat facing the water. Christian poured the warm lotion into his palms and spread it carefully across her back—slow, steady strokes, unhurried, as though time itself had softened around them.
Then it was Christian's turn. He removed his T-shirt. Elle patted a short wooden stool. "Come here," she said, hiding a small smile she didn't fully understand. Her fingers traced sunscreen across his broad back—over shoulders and shoulder blades that shifted as he chuckled.
"Why did you choose to be a bodyguard, Chris? Not… something else?" Elle asked, lying on the warm sand beside him.
"It's a long story," Christian said, eyes on the sky.
"Then tell me," Elle pressed, rolling onto her back and shielding her eyes from the sun.
"Maybe… not yet." He stood suddenly, jogging toward the waves.
"Hey!" Elle laughed, chasing after him. He turned, scooped her up effortlessly, and—splash—they fell into the sea together.
"Whoaa! What was that for?!" Elle sputtered, pushing wet hair from her face, laughing breathlessly.
"We're on vacation. So we have fun," Christian replied.
A larger wave crashed suddenly. Christian instinctively pulled Elle close, turning his body to shield hers from the force. They tumbled onto the sand, water spraying around them. He leaned over her, half-covering her with his body.
"Are you okay, Elle?" His smile was steady, reassuring.
"Yes—if you're always by my side," Elle answered between breaths.
There was a pause. A silence unlike the silences of the palace. Christian leaned closer—just a few inches—then stopped, eyes locked on hers.
"I will always protect you," he whispered.
Heat flared across Elle's cheeks. "I thought… you were going to—" She bit her lip, turning away.
"Going to what?" Christian teased, his smile turning mischievous.
"Forget it," Elle muttered, lightly swatting his chest. They rolled into the sand until they were side by side, staring at a sky that had shifted from bright blue to soft peach.
"Do you… want me to?" Christian asked, propping himself up on one elbow, his face half-shadowed.
Elle said nothing. She stared at the sky, streaked now with pink and orange dripping into the sea. She pulled her knees close. Christian reached for her hand, gently, without pressure. Only a few inches separated them.
"Say the word if you don't want this," he whispered—not coaxing, but reassuring.
Elle swallowed. "I… don't know," she admitted, her voice nearly lost.
Christian nodded, accepting. He leaned in slowly, so slowly that Elle had time to close her eyes. The choice was hers. Their lips met—light, brief, like the first wave greeting the shore.
"I love you, Elle," Christian murmured, brushing damp strands of hair from her face. "Maybe this is the only moment I can say it."
Elle's eyes widened. The words hung in the twilight air, too large to catch all at once.
The sun slid into the horizon, leaving a faint glow. The moon took its throne, and the air grew cooler.
"It's night," Christian said gently. "Dinner?"
"Y-yeah," Elle stammered. "Let me cook."
AUTHOR'S POV
The cottage kitchen glowed under a small pendant light. Christian—shirtless, his T-shirt still wet—peeled onions and prepped vegetables. Elle wore an oversized white shirt, hair tied in a messy bun. It was a picture never seen at the palace: a princess chopping vegetables, a bodyguard tending the stove.
"Aww!" Elle winced. The knife had nicked her finger, leaving a thin red line.
"Elle, you're bleeding!" Christian grabbed her hand. Instinctively, he pressed her fingertip to his lips—warm, quick—just to stop the bleeding. Then he rinsed it under water and placed a small bandage that read you are my everything.
Elle stared at it, half amused, half bewildered. "Seriously? That's what you picked?"
Christian shrugged, sheepish. "It's what the cottage first-aid kit had. Not me."
"Alright then, Mr. First Aid."
"I should be the one chopping," he insisted, taking the cutting board.
"And if I refuse?" Elle challenged.
"Then… you hold the knife, I'll hold the ingredients."
He stepped behind her, his body forming a protective frame. His hands guided the vegetables while hers made careful slices. His breath brushed her neck—not demanding, only steady, a kind of calm the palace had never given her.
Dinner was simple: prawn aglio e olio, citrus salad, two glasses of sparkling water. On the side terrace, a single candle flickered on a wooden table. The waves provided the soundtrack. They ate while talking about small, ordinary things—things neither of them had ever had much time to share. Sometimes laughter broke out, sometimes silence; not awkward, only comfortable.
ELLE'S POV – in her room
Today… was nothing like I expected. Christian kissed me—I buried my face in a pillow. Christian kissed me. And said he loved me.
I wasn't sure of my feelings. I hadn't even put the past to rest. But why was my heart racing like this? Why wouldn't his scent leave my skin, even after I showered?
Is it possible… to love two people at once? Or is this just the confusion of a girl who's been alone with her silence too often?
I looked at the tiny bandage on my finger: you are my everything. Ridiculous. Sweet. Dangerous.
CHRISTIAN'S POV – in his room
I said it. The three words tucked between every one of my duties. They slipped out like water breaking through stone.
Elle froze when I kissed her. She didn't pull away—but she didn't draw me closer either. Silence. Confusing silence. What was she feeling? I couldn't read her eyes tonight.
If only I could have her without titles. Or if I could return to my title without chaining her to it. Both seemed impossible.
Why does loving you have to be this complicated, Elle?
AUTHOR'S POV
Night deepened. Stars scattered over the dark water, while waves whispered against the shore like short prayers repeated endlessly.
Inside the cottage, two people slept in separate rooms: a princess learning to tell the difference between longing and love, and a bodyguard redefining what it meant to protect. Between them stretched something fragile—like a wooden bridge across a lagoon—but strong enough to carry careful steps.
Tomorrow, questions would return: about a past not yet healed, about a future impossible to predict, about a palace that never truly allowed anyone to be "ordinary."
But tonight, just once, the sea embraced the shore without asking for anything—and their little secret drifted quietly between tides and confessions.