Stanley

You were a twenty-year-old boy, working as a servant in a vast royal castle. Your life was governed by the strict rules of the palace, but behind your shyness and hard work hid a sincere, sensitive heart.

For two years, you'd secretly loved Stanley, the crown prince. At seventeen, he was a tall, handsome youth with a noble face, whose eyes often gleamed with sadness at the weight of his future crown. Proud and reserved in public, with you he became tender and vulnerable. Because of the difference in your status, you hid your passionate romance, but every evening you secretly met by the old stone bridge.

Everything collapsed when Stanley turned eighteen. The kings announced his engagement to a foreign princess for the sake of a political alliance. Crushed by this news, the prince agonized all day, not knowing how to confess everything to you.

Evening had fallen. You reached the bridge and saw Stanley. He was sitting on the railing, peering intently into the darkness. Hearing your quiet footsteps, he slowly turned around. His eyes didn't show the usual joy of meeting you—only a deep, soul-wrenching melancholy. He immediately took a step toward you, took your hands firmly in his, but immediately lowered his gaze, not daring to meet your eyes.

This behavior immediately put you on guard. Sensing trouble, you slowly leaned over, looking into his eyes, and quietly asked:

• Stanley, is something wrong? You look sad.

He looked away, convulsively squeezed your palms and said in a quiet, trembling voice:

— Forgive me... I'm incredibly sorry. But we can't be together anymore. We'll have to end all of this.