Chapter 5 Warmth i never felt

When the King-my father-pulled me into that embrace, I didn't know what to do with my arms. I stood there, stiff as stone, while his frail, trembling hands pressed against my back. He was thin. Too thin. And weak. His breath was shallow against my ear as he whispered my name-"Elias... my son."

For a second, I almost said, "I'm not," but I caught myself. I couldn't risk everything now. Not after I'd come this far. Not when I'd seen death with my own eyes. Not when I finally had a warm place to sleep and food that didn't come from garbage bins or stolen crates.

So I leaned in, gently placed my palm on his shoulder, and whispered back, "I'm here, Father."

The Queen was crying. She dabbed the corner of her eyes with a silk handkerchief, her other hand clutching the King's fingers. Even the princess-my supposed sister-looked misty-eyed, though she blinked quickly to hide it. None of them had seen the real Elias since he was sent abroad at birth. That meant I could still survive this act.

"You look so much like him," the Queen said, voice shaking. I didn't ask who "him" was. I just nodded and gave a small smile. I wasn't sure if she meant herself or the King. It didn't matter. Whatever they needed me to be, I'd be that-at least until I figured things out.

Once the visit was over and the King had been put to rest in his golden bed, only the Princess remained. She walked beside me as we exited the royal chamber. I couldn't stop glancing at her from the corner of my eye.

She was ethereal.

I didn't know what perfume she wore, but it was soft and floral, lingering on the air like spring. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was low and smooth.

"He's waited so long for you. We all have," she said.

I nodded again. That was becoming my go-to move.

"You don't remember me at all, do you?" she asked, with a slight tilt of her head.

"I was sent away when I was too young," I lied.

She smiled. "Then let me show you around the gardens. They were your favorite place before you left."

I followed her out into the palace grounds. The garden stretched endlessly-a perfectly trimmed paradise of roses, tulips, marble fountains, and ancient sculptures. I'd never seen anything so flawless.

And I'd never felt so far from who I used to be.

The truth was, my real name wasn't Elias. I didn't even have a proper last name. I was raised in group homes and dingy apartments with peeling walls and mildew-stained ceilings. I grew up learning to keep my shoes near my bed so I could run if someone broke in. My mother was a ghost I barely remembered, and my father-well, he could've been anyone.

Life had never held my hand before. It shoved me forward, kicked me down when I stumbled, and watched while I crawled.

Now? Now a princess was walking me through a garden of gold.

I stopped at one of the fountains and stared into the rippling water. My reflection looked clean. Softer. Like I belonged.

But I didn't.

"Are you alright?" she asked, standing close.

"Yeah," I said. "Just... adjusting."

She offered a knowing smile and sat at the edge of the fountain. "You must feel overwhelmed."

Overwhelmed? I was drowning in lies. But I couldn't stop looking at her.

Her hair was the color of rich cocoa, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves. Her skin glowed like polished bronze under the afternoon sun. Her lips were full, her eyes fierce and gentle at the same time.

I wasn't supposed to feel what I felt.

She was my sister.

But I knew she wasn't. At least, not really. And that made things worse. Because I couldn't stop noticing the curve of her smile or the way her voice made my chest ache.

We sat there in silence for a while. The breeze played with her hair. My heart kept reminding me I didn't deserve any of this.

And then she touched my hand. Just briefly. A small, sisterly gesture. But it lit something inside me I didn't have a name for.

I pulled my hand away gently.

"Sorry," she said quickly.

"No, it's not you," I murmured. "It's just... hard to believe this is real."

She nodded, standing. "Come, I'll show you the orchard. It's where we used to race when we were kids."

I followed her again, steps heavy with guilt. I was playing a part I didn't audition for, and the longer I played it, the harder it would be to step off the stage.

But God, did I want to stay.

I wanted to be wanted.

For the first time in my life, I was someone. I wasn't just another hustler trying to survive. I was Prince Elias. Heir to the throne. Son of the King. Brother to the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen.

And liar.

The biggest liar of them all.

---

That night, after the walk, I lay in the grandest bed I'd ever seen. Velvet sheets. Satin pillows. Gold lining the headboard.

But all I could think about was that hug. The way the King held me like I mattered. Like he'd been waiting his whole life to see me again.

And how I had no idea what it meant to be someone's son.

I'd grown up with beatings, not blessings. With cold showers and colder stares. I once went three days without food because my group home forgot I was still there. On my sixteenth birthday, I lit a candle on a cupcake I stole from a store and sang "Happy Birthday" to myself in a storage closet.

No one came.

Now, I was sleeping in a palace.

Everything about this felt like a dream I never deserved.

Maybe that's why I was afraid to wake up.