AANYA — the Message That Changed Everything

A wrong message should be embarrassing.
Not life-changing.
Not heart-shaking.
Definitely not destiny.

But destiny doesn’t ask permission.

The night I came home exhausted, furious at the world, I didn’t double-check the contact I was texting. I didn’t think. I didn’t breathe. I just typed my frustration into the universe.

“If one more man acts like the world revolves around him, I’ll drown him in the Arabian Sea.”

The second I hit send, I realized the number wasn’t my best friend’s.

And the moment I received a reply, I realized my life had just shifted—quietly, invisibly, impossibly.

“Should I be worried? I can’t swim.”

A stranger.
But not like any stranger I had ever spoken to.

His messages were warm, sharp, funny, strangely comforting — like talking to someone who understood the spaces between my words. Someone who read the silence I didn’t type. Someone who felt familiar without even revealing his name.

He called himself A.

A letter.

A mystery.

A comfort in the dark.

I should have blocked him.
I should have ended the conversation.
I should have been careful.

But something about him… felt safe.

Like he wasn’t pretending.
Like he wasn’t performing.
Like he wasn’t trying to impress me.

And sometimes, honesty from a stranger is easier than honest with you.

Those late-night chats became my favorite escape — the part of the day where I didn’t have to be responsible, or polite, or perfect. I could just be… me.

We talked about everything.
Books.
Food.
Annoying coworkers.
Dreams we didn’t admit out loud.
He even listened when I ranted about my life, my job, my fears.

He listened like it mattered.

But what I didn’t know was that the man behind that letter carried a world I could never belong to.

A world built on secrets, shadows, duty, danger…
and a crown.

I didn’t know that the gentle voice behind the texts belonged to a foreign prince.
Or that the man laughing softly at my dramatic threats was trained to protect nations.
Or that the one person who made me feel seen was someone I could never actually have.

I didn’t know.
I didn’t suspect.
I didn’t imagine.

Until I did.

Until the truth exploded in front of my eyes.

And I ran.

ADRIAN — The Girl Who Found Me by Accident

A prince is trained to do many things.

To rule.
To negotiate.
To observe.
To protect.
To endure.

But no one trains you for the moment someone sees past the title, past the duty, past the stone mask — and speaks to you like you’re a person, not a symbol.

It began with a message that wasn’t meant for me.

“I’ll drown him in the Arabian Sea.”

I should have ignored it.
Deleted it.
Moved on.

But her frustration made me laugh — actually laugh — something I hadn’t done in years. And when I replied, I didn’t expect the warmth of her confusion, the spark of her humor, the soft exhaustion in her words.

She was real.
Unfiltered.
Alive in a way my world never allowed me to be.

I told her my initial — only my initial — and expected her to lose interest.

But she didn’t.

She asked me questions no one dared to ask.
She teased me without fear.
She listened without motive.
She cared without knowing who I was.

She spoke to the man — not the prince, not the agent, not the heir.

With her, I didn’t have to pretend.

That was dangerous.
That was addictive.
That was the beginning of everything I didn’t know I needed.

I should have told her the truth.
But truth in my world is a weapon — and I refused to hurt her.

So I hid.
Not because I wanted to deceive her…
but because I wanted to keep her.

And then she came to my country.

I thought fate had finally given me a chance.
I believed I could balance the man and the prince.

But secrets crumble eventually.

She saw the crest of my kingdom.
She heard guards call me “Your Highness.”
She saw the life I never shared — the life she was never meant to be part of.

And the look in her eyes…
I will never forget it.

Shock.
Hurt.
Fear.
Betrayal.

She walked out of my palace — and my life — before I could stop her.

By the time I reached the gates, she was gone.
By the time I called her number, she had blocked me.
By the time I searched the airport, her flight had taken off.

I was a prince.
A future king.
A man with power, influence, and strength.

But in that moment, I couldn’t even hold on to one girl.

Five year passed.
Five year without her voice.
Five  year without the texts that felt like breath in my cold routines.
Five year of learning what it meant to lose something you never truly had.

And then destiny gave me a second chance.

A business merger.
A transfer of leadership.
A quiet opportunity.

I took it.

I crossed the ocean.

Not as a prince.
Not as a secret agent.
Not as the man she ran from.

But as the CEO she now works for.

A stranger, once again.
But not for long.

Because I didn’t come to India for business.
I came for the girl who ran from my truth…

…and took my heart with her.