Felicity's POV.
It was a weekday—Friday morning—when I woke up to the angry buzzing of my phone. I groaned and rolled onto my side, checked it, and froze. Twelve missed calls.
'Oh my gosh—twelve missed calls?' I shouted to myself. 'Seriously? How did I sleep this much? And now I'm talking to myself. Great,' I muttered.
There were also eight unread messages. One was from Mom.
One read:
> Hello Ninu,
I called twice but you didn't pick up, so I assumed you'd fallen asleep. I won't disturb you much—just wanted to say hi and that I'll see you tomorrow.
Love you, Mom.
'Oh shoot—I forgot Mom was coming today.' I sat up, panic kicking in. 'I need to clean my room. Oh my goodness, please help me.'
I checked my call log again. Two missed calls and two messages from Penelope. Two missed calls from an unknown number. Six missed calls and five messages from Christopher. I sighed.
'Why is Chris still calling me? I don't want to talk to him.' I thought.
Penelope's message read:
> Hey girl, sorry you didn't see me after all that. I figured you needed space after what Alex did. Sorry I couldn't be there for you—I had to go home.
Love you.
Then another:
> Oh, before I forget—I'll see you on Friday, right? You didn't come on Tuesday. Why? Call or text when you see this. We need to talk to my parents before continuing our project.
Kisses, Penelope.
'Oh great. I also forgot about the project.' I groaned. "How am I supposed to juggle all this in one day?"
Then—Chris's messages:
> Hey honey, forgive me please. I can't do anything without you.
I rolled my eyes.
> Hey sweetheart, I'm really, really sorry.
'I haven't spoken to Chris for days,' I muttered. 'Can he just stop with the 'honey' and 'sweetheart'? Seriously.'
> I know you might be annoyed by all this, but I really need your forgiveness. You're the handkerchief to my tears.
I smiled slightly at that one and rolled my eyes again.
'Is this guy serious?'
> I know you just smiled. See? We complete each other. Why are we fighting? Please forgive me. I didn't mean to hurt you—I was just joking. You know how stupid I can be. A good-for-nothing fool. Please, my Fel...
'Are you for real? Don't insult yourself,' I whispered.
> As I said before, I don't want to cause another chaos in the city, if not...
Love you, Chris.
I sighed, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips. Chris could be so annoying yet so ridiculously sweet. Truth was—I'd already forgiven him. But sometimes it's fun to play hard to get. I decided to call the unknown number back, but my Wi-Fi wasn't working. So I stepped out in my pajamas and ducky slippers to buy data. On my way back, I ran into the one person I didn't want to see—Chris.
"Hey, Fel. How are you? How was your night?" he asked brightly.
I didn't answer. I took two steps and walked past him. His voice followed me—then suddenly stopped.
"…Oh."
I sighed. 'What now?' I glanced sideways just in time to see him slowly take me in—from my oversized Mickey Mouse pajamas down to my bright yellow ducky slippers. He blinked. Then blinked again.
"And what are you wearing?" he asked carefully, pointing like he'd uncovered a crime scene. "Are those—Mickey Mouse pajamas?" He laughed.
I didn't answer. I just kept walking.
"And ducky slippers?" he added, leaning in like he needed confirmation. His voice dropped in mock awe. "Not just any slippers. Actual yellow ducky slippers. With beaks. And tiny judgmental eyes and personalities."
I didn't stop walking. I kept my eyes fixed straight ahead, pretending he didn't exist. Chris pressed a hand to his chest like he'd been personally wounded.
"Wow. Okay. This is… unexpected. I thought I was mentally prepared for a lot of things today, Felicity Paddington—but not this."
I finally looked at him. Flat. Unimpressed. He circled me slowly, studying me like a museum exhibit.
"Interesting," he mused. "Very interesting. Because at first glance, I thought I was talking to a university student. But now I see I've interrupted the lead character of a Saturday-morning cartoon."
He leaned in slightly, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Tell me—do the pajamas come with bedtime stories? Or is Mickey just here for emotional support?"
I said nothing.
"So let me get this straight," he continued. "It's early morning. You're outside. In pajamas. Wearing duck-themed footwear. Bold. Fearless. A fashion statement that says, I've given up on society, but I look adorable doing it."
I stared at him.
"Oh, come on, Fel. Please don't give me the silent treatment," he followed after me. "Okay—okay. I'm sorry."
"…Are you done?" I asked.
I turned and tried to walk away.
Chris hurried after me. "Hey—wait. That didn't land the way I imagined."
"No," I said calmly. "It didn't."
He frowned. "You're supposed to be embarrassed. Or offended. Or at least mildly flustered."
I stopped and turned slowly.
"Chris," I said coolly, "I went out to buy data. These are the clothes I wore when I slept and woke up to step outside. Not validation."
He winced.
"Ouch," he muttered. "Okay… fair."
Chris straightened. "I just want to talk."
I finally looked at him.
"Talk?" I echoed flatly.
"Yes," he said eagerly. "About last night. But first, I'd like to discuss your trousers. Mickey Mouse. Ducky slippers. This is a bold narrative choice, Felicity. Very 'I fear nothing, including public judgment.'"
I blinked once.
"You're supposed to go to class or something," I said calmly.
He frowned. "That's not—"
"And," I added, turning to leave, "you're supposed to mind your business."
I stared at him for another second, then turned away again. Behind me, he sighed. "You know… for someone dressed like a walking bedtime story, you're terrifyingly unbothered."
I didn't turn back.
"That's because," I said, "I don't care."
And that—finally—made him laugh.
"Just leave me alone, Chris. I have a lot to do. You should go back to work," I said without stopping.
I glanced back once. He was still standing there—hands in his pockets, looking genuinely sad. I hated that it made my chest tighten.
Back home, I replied to Mom:
> Sorry about last night. I was exhausted. I'll see you this evening. Have a safe journey. I'll leave the key under the mat since I'll be out. Love you, Mom.
Then I messaged Penelope:
> Hey bestie, sorry I missed your calls. I was stressed and fell asleep. I'll see you this evening because I'll be busy all day. Love you.
Then I called the unknown number. It was Alex.
"Hey, princess," Alex said softly. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean to make you angry. I just like you a lot. I want to sincerely apologize. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm willing to wait for you."
'Who even gave this guy my number?' I wondered.
"It's alright, Alex," I replied. "I shouldn't have reacted that way. I was just surprised, that's all. Thank you for your respect and for giving me time to think."
"Alright. Bye angel. I love you."
"Yeah... bye," I replied and hung up quickly. That's so awkward.
I played Taylor Swift, "22" and cleaned like my life depended on it. I did the laundry, washed dishes, swept, and mopped my room.
'What's going on? Alex is in love with me.
Chris is crazy about me. Are they sick in the head?'
By noon, I was exhausted and still overwhelmed. I cleaned the bathroom and took a shower. Just as I was about to leave to meet Penelope's parents, the doorbell rang.
'Who uses the doorbell instead of knocking?' I grumbled as I opened the door. It was Chris.
"What are you doing here?" I asked. "And why the doorbell?"
"Well" he said slowly. "I guess some things change... just like something has changed in me."
"What? What are you talking about? Please enlighten me"
"Felicity," he said dramatically. "Please forgive me. I'm tired of being alone. I've gotten used to you. Free me from this prison of loneliness."
"Haha! Drama king. You should've seen your face—epic! I should sign you up for Broadway. I've already forgiven you. Now get your sorry ass off my chair and back to work," I said, laughing.
He didn't move.
"Something else?" I asked.
"Have you thought about Alex's proposal?"
"Um, no. I barely know him—let alone be his girlfriend. Why are you asking?"
"No reason," he said nervously.
I narrowed my eyes. I wasn't convinced.
He inhaled sharply. "I have something to say. You might be mad, but it's true. I meant every word." His eyes locked on mine. "Felicity Paddington, I've fallen in love with you—since the first day I saw you. I just didn't realize it until now. You're everything I've ever wanted."
I stared at him, stunned. "You? Chris?" I scoffed. My voice shook. "Are you joking? Damn it, Chris—not you."
"I'm serious," his voice was steady, unshaken. "I'm head over heels for you. Just give me a chance."
"Chris, no…no." I laughed nervously, shaking my head. "You have to be kidding, right? This is a joke." I looked at him again and my laughter died. He wasn't joking. Not even a little.
"I don't even know basic things about you," I blurted out. "How am I supposed to be your girlfriend?" I frowned. "Wait! Are you sick?" I reached out to touch his forehead, but he caught my hand, fingers warm and firm, and held it there, staring straight into my eyes.
"I'm not sick," he said quietly. "I'm serious. Come on, Fel." His grip tightened just a little. "I love you. I'm crazy about you. Just give me a chance. Please."
I swallowed hard. "I don't even know everything about you. Why should I be your girlfriend?" I challenged. "For example—what's your favorite food?"
"Pancakes," he replied instantly.
'That's my favorite too. But focus!' I scolded myself, flustered.
"Your favorite color?"
"Green."
"What about your family?"
His expression shifted. He went silent. Something about it felt off.
'Why did he go quiet? That wasn't like him. Something tells me there's more to Christopher than he's letting on.'
"No, Chris. This isn't right. Maybe it's just infatuation. Please let these feelings go. I have too much on my mind."
"I don't mean to hurt you. But the feelings won't go away," he said softly. "I don't want to lose you, and I won't let anyone hurt you before I have the chance to make you mine."
"What do you mean by 'before I have….'—" Before I could complete the sentence, he kissed me. Without consent.
Why did my heart skip when he kissed me? No. This is wrong. He had no right. But why can't I breathe properly right now? Why is my heart racing? Why do butterflies twist in my stomach? His fiery lips had sparked something dangerous inside me but I quickly came to my senses. I pushed him away and slapped him.
"What the hell was that, Chris? Enough! Get out," I snapped.
He walked to the door, paused, and said quietly:
"I'm sorry I kissed you. I don't know what came over me. But I love you Fel. And I won't give up on you."
He left. I stood there, trembling, too stunned to move or think.
Then a message from Penelope popped up:
> Hey girl, where are you? Don't chicken out!
'Oh crap, Penelope's parents!' I grabbed my jacket, left the house, locked the door, and put the key under the mat. I texted Mom again to let her know.
In the taxi, I popped in my earpods and listened to Ariana Grande's "We Can Be Friends," my mind drifting back to the kiss. I touched my lips, then quickly snapped out of it. When I arrived at the address Penelope had given me, I was stunned. The house was painted brown with cream trim and looked like a palace, fifteen rooms, if I had to guess.
This house wasn't just a house. It was a palace. I approached the gate where two guards in red and black uniforms with tall hats stood. I told them I was here to see Penelope. They let me in and asked me to wait.
'This place is enormous. They must be royalty. Penelope owes me an explanation. I've never even been near a place like this,' I thought.
>>>>>>>>>>>
Penelope's POV.
My family means everything to me. Then I met Felicity and she became my sister, not just my friend. But my parents don't like her, they think she's a bad influence and that I'm changing too much. I told them if they didn't talk to her, I'd move out and live with her.
"How dare you say that about that scoundrel?" my father shouted.
"She's not a scoundrel, Father!" I yelled. "She's sweet, funny, and smart. You never let me do anything, not even school projects or parties. That changes today. Felicity is here, and you're going to meet her."
"Absolutely not! She's dragging you down, Penelope! That girl doesn't belong in our world" my father snapped.
My mother sighed. "Oh, darling, just let her in. Let's hear what she has to say."
"Alright, but I make no promises," he grumbled.
"Thank you, Mother!" I said and ran to meet Felicity.
She was admiring the estate when I waved in front of her face.
"Penelope! You have a LOT of explaining to do. This house? You must be royalty!" she gasped.
"Calm down. I'll explain later," I laughed. "Let's go inside."
She looked at me like she was going to scold me later. As we walked the long path, she admired the maze, the fountain, the stables, and the flower garden. She broke the silence.
"Wait... are we still walking? It's been like 10 minutes!"
"You're exaggerating, it's only three minutes," I laughed.
"Three?! Just to get to the house? Oh my gosh." no
We laughed.
"What are you going to say to my parents?" I asked.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. But afterward, you owe me the whole story," she muttered.
"Well… my parents are King and Queen. This is our palace. I have three siblings. I didn't tell anyone at school. I cover with piano lessons. My mom makes us take horseback riding lessons. My dad doesn't let us go out. That's why I've never come to your house or school events. You're here to help change their minds."
"You're serious? Wow. No wonder you're so pretty—princesses are supposed to be."
She bowed and laughed.
"Stop that! Just call me Penelope. I don't want anything royal. I just want to be normal."
"Still, this is your life. You should love it, not reject it."
"You're kind of right. But that's a topic for another day. Let's go inside," I said as we finally reached the door.
And as we walked through the palace, I knew. Nothing in our lives would ever be simple again.