Chapter 19 Chapter nineteen
We walked to Brockwell Park. It was cold but clear, the kind of November morning where London looked almost beautiful.
Aanya pulled her jacket tighter. "I've never been here before. Never been to this part of London at all except for official visits with full security details."
"It's my local park. I run here most mornings."
"What's it like? Living here?"
"Brixton?"
"Normal life. Not palace life. Just... life."
I thought about how to answer that. "It's harder than what you had. Everything costs money. Everything takes time. You have to think about budgets and transport and how to fit work and life and family into twenty-four hours. But it's real. You make actual choices. Your time is yours. Your mistakes are yours. Your successes are yours."
"That sounds terrifying."
"It is. Also liberating."
We walked in silence for a while, past the playground, around the lake.
"I'm scared," Aanya said suddenly. "About the job interview. About money. About failing at being a normal person. About waking up in six months and realizing I made a catastrophic mistake giving up everything for one moment of honesty."
"You didn't give up everything for one moment. You gave up a performance for a life. Those are different things."
"Are they? Because right now it feels like I traded stability for chaos."
"Maybe. But at least it's your chaos. Your choices. Your life."
She stopped walking. Looked at me. "How do you do it? Stay so certain? You gave up LSE recommendation, risked your PhD, confronted the Crown. How did you know it was worth it?"
"I didn't. I just knew I couldn't live with myself if I stayed silent."
"And that was enough?"
"Had to be. Because the alternative was betraying my father's memory, my own principles, everything I'd worked for. So yeah, I was scared. Still am sometimes. But I'd rather be scared and honest than comfortable and complicit."
She smiled slightly. "You sound like my friend Priya."
"Smart friend."
"The smartest. She's been incredible this week. Letting me stay, helping me figure out basic life skills, talking me through panic spirals at two AM."
"Good friends are everything."
"Do you have good friends? Besides family?"
I thought about it. "Not really. I've been too busy surviving to maintain friendships. Rosa, I guess. Professor Williams, though that's complicated. Mostly just Giulia and Marco and Mum."
"That sounds lonely."
"Sometimes. But family's enough. They keep me grounded."
We'd reached the top of the hill. View across London spread below us. Somewhere in that sprawl was Kensington Palace. Buckingham Palace. The life she'd left behind.
"Do you miss it?" I asked. "The palace. The title. Your family."
"I miss my family. Or I miss the idea of them. The reality was always complicated." She was quiet. "I don't miss the performance. The constant surveillance. The weight of representing an institution I didn't believe in. But I miss my mother. My father. Even though they chose the institution over me."
"Maybe they'll come around. Once the shock wears off."
"Maybe. Or maybe I'm permanently the daughter who betrayed them. I don't know which would be worse. Them never forgiving me, or them forgiving me only if I pretend it never happened."
A jogger passed us. Did a double-take, recognizing Aanya. Kept running but pulled out their phone.
"We should probably go," I said. "Before that becomes a photo on Twitter."
"Right. Normal life includes being photographed by strangers now."
We headed back toward the park entrance.
"What time's your interview?" I asked.
"Two PM. At the community centre."
"Want company? I could wait nearby. Moral support."
She looked surprised. "You'd do that?"
"Sure. I've got nothing else until office hours at four."
"That's... really kind. Thank you."
We walked back through Brixton, past shops opening, people starting their days. Normal people living normal lives.
At the corner near the community centre, we stopped.
"This was nice," Aanya said. "Talking without cameras. Without handlers. Just us."
"It was."
"Could we do it again? After I hopefully don't completely destroy this interview?"
"Definitely. There's a good pub near here. The Prince Regent. Quiet, locals only, nobody bothers you."
"Pub. I've never been to a pub."
"Never?"
"Royals don't go to pubs. We go to private clubs."
"Then you need to experience a proper pub. Tomorrow evening?"
"I'd like that." She smiled. Genuine. "Thank you, Dev. For coffee. For the walk. For not treating me like a scandal or a symbol. Just... thank you."
"Thank you for the same."
She hesitated, then stepped forward and hugged me.
It was quick, brief, but it felt significant. Her arms around me. My arms around her. Just two people who'd been through something impossible together.
She stepped back, looking slightly embarrassed. "Sorry. Was that appropriate? I don't know the rules anymore."
"There are no rules. Just us."
She smiled again. "I like that. Just us."
She headed toward the community centre. I watched her go, this woman who'd given up a throne to tell the truth, now walking into a job interview in jeans and a borrowed jacket, trying to build a normal life.
I hoped she got the job.
I hoped tomorrow at the pub happened.
I hoped this feeling in my chest, this growing certainty that Aanya Windsor was the most interesting person I'd ever met, wasn't just adrenaline and circumstance.
My phone buzzed. Text from Giulia: Well? How did it go?
Me: Good. Really good.
Giulia: Are you seeing her again?
Me: Tomorrow. Pub.
Giulia: DEV MARCHETTI IS GOING TO A PUB WITH A WOMAN. ALERT THE MEDIA.
Me: Please don't alert the media.
Giulia: Too late. Already told Mum and Marco. Mum wants to meet her. Marco made a joke about you dating a princess. I pointed out she's not a princess anymore. Marco said that makes her more interesting.
Me: Tell Marco he's right.
I put my phone away, started walking toward King's for office hours.
But I couldn't stop thinking about Aanya.
About the way she'd laughed when I'd tricked her about the waistcoat.
About how she'd admitted she was scared but showed up anyway.
About how she'd wrapped her hands around that coffee cup like it was precious.
About how natural it felt to talk to her. To walk with her. To just be with her.
This was dangerous. She'd just lost everything. Was figuring out how to survive. Didn't need me complicating things with feelings that might be completely one-sided.
But tomorrow at the pub, I'd see her again.
And maybe I'd figure out if this was real.
Or if I was just imagining connection because we'd accidentally changed each other's lives.