FIVE

EPOV

I lean against the balcony railing of my hotel room, my phone pressed to my ear as the city hums quietly below me. The cool breeze ruffles my hair, but I barely notice it. My mind is somewhere else entirely.

Carlisle's voice comes through the phone, steady and familiar. "So, what's the problem, Edward? You've been quieter than usual."

I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. "It's the same thing. My father. He's been pushing again."

There's a pause on the other end of the line. "Ah. Eddie, my brother, always so subtle. I assume he's blurring the line between father and King again.."

I can hear the smirk in Carlisle's voice, and it makes me chuckle despite myself. "Yeah, subtle as a sledgehammer."

"He's still on about you needing to settle down?"

"More than ever," I reply, my frustration evident. "He keeps bringing it up—how it's time for me to 'do my duty' and start focusing on an heir. It's relentless. He's had aids bring it up every morning while on my trip."

Carlisle hums thoughtfully. "And your mother? What does Elizabeth think of all this?"

"She's… not as vocal about it, but I know she agrees with him. They both want me to settle down. To get serious about the crown, the future, all of it."

Carlisle's tone softens. "It's not exactly something you can avoid forever, Edward. It is your duty."

"I know," I say quickly. "I'm aware of my responsibilities. But it's… it's exhausting. I feel like they don't care about what I want. Why can't I rule my way?"

There's a silence on the other end, and I know Carlisle is thinking it through. He's always been my favourite in the family—wise, laid-back, and someone I could actually talk to without feeling like I'm being judged or pressured. He's never treated me like a prince who needs to be shaped into something else.

"So, what do you want? What is your way?" Carlisle asks after a moment.

I run a hand through my hair, glancing out at the Paris skyline. "I don't know. I mean, I know I'll have to settle down eventually. But right now, I just want… space, I guess. Time to figure things out."

Carlisle chuckles softly. "You're allowed to want that, my boy. Just because you're a prince doesn't mean you have to sacrifice every part of yourself for the crown."

"Try telling that to my father."

"Your father means well," Carlisle says, his tone more measured. "But he's old school. He sees the crown as something that comes before anything else. He's been this way since we were children. And while there's truth to that… you don't have to rush. You'll find someone when you're ready."

I hesitate for a second, thinking back to Bella. I haven't told Carlisle about her, not yet. I'm not even sure what to say about her because I'm still figuring it out myself. But the idea of settling down, of finding someone—suddenly, it doesn't seem as distant or unrealistic as it used to.

"I met someone," I say quietly, almost testing the words.

There's a pause, then a slow, amused, "Oh?"

I laugh lightly, shaking my head. "It's… it's early. But she's different. Refreshing, even. I can actually be myself around her."

"And that's not something you get often, is it?"

"No, it's not," I admit. "She doesn't know who I am. And it's nice to just… be Edward. Not a prince, not an heir—just me."

Carlisle hums approvingly. "That sounds like something you should hold onto, Edward. Someone who sees you, not the title. It reminds me of how I met your aunt."

Aunt Esme. The love story that captured the entire world. Their wedding had been televised around the globe with many aspiring to find a love story as true as theirs.

I nod, feeling a little lighter now that I've said it out loud. "Yeah. But I don't know how long I can keep that all up. The other shoe will surely drop."

"Well," Carlisle says, his tone playful again. "I'm sure your father will love hearing that you're seeing someone who has no idea about your royal lineage."

I laugh, though there's a knot forming in my stomach. "Yeah, I'm sure he'll be thrilled about it."

There's another pause, and then Carlisle adds, "Just… be careful, Edward. Your father isn't wrong about everything. At some point, you'll have to face all this. But for now? Enjoy it. If this girl makes you feel like yourself, that's worth holding onto. Duty can wait for now."

I let his words sink in, glancing out at the city once more. The lights of Paris twinkle below, and for a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to just disappear into this life. No responsibilities, no crown—just me and her, figuring things out together.

"I'll try," I say softly, feeling a little more grounded. "Thanks, Uncle."

"Anytime," he replies. "And remember—don't let them push you into anything before you're ready. Your happiness will make for a better king. No king who ruled with anger ever had a good reign."

I nod, even though he can't see me. "I won't."

As I hang up the phone, I can't help but think about Bella again. Something about her feels different—like she could be the one to help me find that balance I've been missing.

But I also know that sooner or later, I'll have to tell her the truth. About who I am, about my responsibilities… and everything that comes with being a prince.

The breeze stirs around me. My aunt Esme crosses my mind once again. She's always been the quiet force in our family, supportive and loving, but never one to meddle too much. I suppose it's why she and Carlisle work so well together. Where my father is all about duty and tradition, Esme's warmth has always made the palace feel like more than just a gilded cage.

Esme, like Carlisle, never cared much for the politics or the pomp that comes with being part of the royal family. She was content raising her own family, tending to her charities, and offering guidance when it was asked for. She and my mother, Elizabeth, couldn't be more different—while my mother is more reserved and stoic, Esme is open and empathetic.

It's funny, really. When I was a kid, Esme would always be the one to remind me that there's more to life than just fulfilling expectations. She'd find little ways to give me a taste of normalcy. Simple things like baking in the palace kitchens or taking a walk through the gardens—anything to remind me I wasn't just a royal title, but a person. I've always admired her for that. She made the responsibilities of the crown seem less… suffocating.

Carlisle and Esme—they've both played their roles with grace, quietly standing by, never clamouring for the crown. Carlisle, always the calm advisor, and Esme, the heart of the family. Together, they made the weight of royal life bearable.

It's why I trust Carlisle more than anyone else in the family. He's always been the one to ground me, to remind me that there's more to life than just duty and tradition. But with my father pressing more than ever for me to settle down, to marry, to focus on an heir, even Carlisle's words are beginning to feel like a temporary reprieve rather than a long-term solution.

Esme would understand, I think. She's always been about finding the balance between personal happiness and duty. If I told her about Bella, I know she'd smile, maybe even give me that knowing look of hers. She'd tell me to follow my heart but wouldn't sugarcoat the reality of the crown either.

I glance down at the ring on my finger, the family crest engraved into the metal. It feels heavier than usual tonight, the weight of expectations pressing down harder than ever. Carlisle might be next in line after me, but we both know that it's my burden to bear. And it's one I can't run from forever, no matter how much I wish I could sometimes.

The thought of Bella flashes through my mind again. The way she smiled at me tonight, the ease of our conversation, the way everything felt so natural. She doesn't know about any of this yet—about who I really am, about what's expected of me. And part of me dreads the moment she finds out.

How will she react? Will things change between us? Will she see me differently once she knows I'm not just Edward, the guy who took her out for chocolate and kissed her by the Seine?

The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, and I wonder if I'm being selfish by not telling her sooner. But I can't lose this—can't lose her—before anything's even begun.

I sigh, looking out at the glittering lights of Paris one last time before heading back inside. Sooner or later, I'll have to tell Bella the truth. About who I am, about my family, and about the pressure I'm under to settle down and fulfil my royal duties.

But tonight? Tonight, I just want to hold onto the idea that, for once, I can be just Edward.

I've spent the entire day trying to shake the knot in my chest, but no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to unwind. My thoughts keep circling back to Bella, the night we had, and the weight of what I haven't told her yet. Normally, I'm better at compartmentalising, at keeping the royal pressures from creeping into my personal life. But with Bella… it's different.

She didn't text me today. Not once. It's driving me insane.

I know it's probably nothing—she's busy with work, with her life—but something about the silence gnaws at me. After everything we shared last night, the connection, the kiss… I can't just sit here and wait. I need to see her.

Without thinking too much about it, I find myself at her apartment door. My heart beats a little faster as I stand there, hesitating for just a second before I knock.

When the door swings open, Bella is standing there in a long, comfy-looking bed shirt that says "Disneyland" across the front. Her hair is a little messy, and her eyes widen at the sight of me. It's clear she wasn't expecting this. She's holding a trash bag, slippers on her feet.

"Hey," I say softly, offering her a small, tentative smile. "I was wondering if we could have a chat? I was about to knock."

For a second, she just stares at me, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, her lips curve into a wry smile.

"Is the correct protocol to bow for you, Your Highness?"

My heart stutters, and the words hang between us like a cold gust of wind.

She knows.

BPOV

The air between us is thick with tension, the kind that sits heavy in your chest, making it hard to breathe. Edward—the prince, apparently—just stands there, his face an unreadable mask as I take a step back, opening the door wider to let him in.

"Come on in," I say, trying to keep my voice steady, but it sounds far too casual considering what I just blurted out.

Edward steps inside slowly, his eyes following me as I lead him into the small kitchen area. The silence between us feels oppressive, like we're both waiting for the other to speak first.

Without really thinking, I reach for the kettle, filling it with water and setting it on the stove. My hands are shaking, but I try to hide it as best as I can. When I glance back at Edward, he's watching me carefully, his expression softer now, but still cautious.

I pull two cups from the cupboard, placing one in front of him. "I've never served tea to a royal before," I say with a small, forced smile. "So, you'll have to excuse me if it's wrong. I'm fresh out of saucers."

Edward's lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile. "It's fine, really."

We both fall into silence again, the kettle whistling softly in the background. I take a deep breath, trying to wrap my head around what's happening. Edward. A prince. It feels too surreal, but there's no denying it now. Angela's face when she'd first seen him at our door, the articles - everything clicked into place the moment I saw him standing at my door.

I sit down across from him, staring at the cup of tea in my hands, trying to gather my thoughts. But the questions are already spilling out of me before I can stop them.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask quietly, not sure if I want to hear the answer.

Edward shifts slightly, running a hand through his hair. He looks almost… vulnerable. "I didn't know how to. At first, it didn't seem important. And then, after our night together, you made me feel… safe. Like I could just be myself."

His words hang in the air for a moment, and I wait for him to continue.

"I wanted to play pretend," he admits, his voice softer now. "In a selfish way, for that I am sorry. I didn't want to be Edward, the prince, or the guy with all the responsibilities hanging over his head. I just wanted to be me."

I let his words settle, the honesty of them sinking in. I can see it now—the weight he's been carrying, the need to escape, even if just for a little while. But still… he should have told me.

"And you didn't think I'd understand?" I ask, my voice steadier now.

Edward looks up, his eyes meeting mine, filled with something I can't quite place—regret, maybe, or worry. "I wasn't sure. But the longer I didn't say anything, the harder it became to bring it up. I couldn't bring myself to spring it on you."

I bite my lip, processing it all. He's right. I understand the need to escape, to have a part of your life that's just yours. But this… it feels like something bigger than just keeping a secret.

"Do you even know how strange this all is for me?" I ask, trying to keep my tone light, but there's an edge of vulnerability in my voice. "One minute, I'm working at Disneyland, living my quiet life, and the next… I'm kissing a prince by the Seine."

He laughs softly, the sound a little awkward, like he's not sure if he should be amused or concerned. "Yeah, when you put it like that, I can see how that's… a lot."

I look at him, really look at him, and the person sitting across from me isn't some untouchable royal figure. He's Edward—the guy who's been kind, thoughtful, and, above all, real with me, even if he didn't tell me everything from the start.

"So, what happens now?" I ask, leaning back in my chair, my tea long forgotten.

Edward hesitates for a moment, his green eyes searching mine. "That's up to you, Bella. I know I should have told you sooner. I'm sorry for keeping it from you. But… I want to keep seeing you. If that's something you still want."

I stare down at my hands, my mind racing. There's a lot to process, and part of me wants to demand more answers, to figure out what all this means. But another part of me—the part that can still feel the warmth of his lips from last night—just wants to take a breath and see where this goes.

I glance back up at him, and for the first time since he walked through the door, I feel a small sense of calm.

Edward smiles back, and for a moment, it feels like we're back to that night by the Seine, just two people, figuring it out.