Chapter 22 Chapter twenty-two
"Why are you doing this?" I asked quietly.
"Doing what?"
"Tearing into me. Questioning my motives. Dismissing my choices. This morning you said I was brave. Tonight you are saying I am performative. What changed?"
He looked away, jaw tight. "Nothing changed. I just started seeing things clearly."
"Seeing what clearly?"
"That you are trying to understand a world you will never actually be part of. That you are romanticizing poverty and struggle without grasping what it actually means. That in six months, when this stops being interesting and starts being genuinely hard, you will go back to your family and this will all have been a phase you went through."
"You do not know that."
"Don't I? You started a job you have never done, in a field you have no real experience in, helping families whose struggles you cannot actually comprehend. How long do you think you will last when you realize you cannot fix their problems with good intentions? When you see children going hungry because their parents cannot afford food, and you cannot help because you are barely surviving yourself? When you watch families being evicted and you have no power to stop it because you are no longer a princess with influence, just another broke person working at a community centre?"
"I know I cannot fix everything. I know I have limitations. But at least I will be doing something real instead of performing concern from a palace."
"Will you, though? Or will you just be performing concern from a different location? Playing at being working-class until it gets too uncomfortable and you go back to safety?"
I felt something crack open inside me, a hurt so sharp I could barely breathe. "You asked me to come here tonight. You asked me to spend time with you. And now you are sitting here telling me I do not belong. Why? What did I do between this morning and tonight to make you decide I am a fraud?"
He did not answer immediately. He drank his Guinness, stared at the table, seemed to be fighting with himself about something.
"I saw how you looked at the job offer," he said finally. "Like it was a generous gift instead of a difficult responsibility. I watched you fumble with money and transportation and basic decisions that everyone else makes automatically. I listened to you talk about wanting to help families without understanding what help actually looks like when you have no resources. And I realized that you are approaching this entire experience as if it is a learning opportunity instead of your actual life. Like you are studying poverty instead of living it."
"Because I am learning. I have been not-a-princess for five days. Five days. How do you expect me to understand everything immediately?"
"I do not expect you to understand everything immediately. I expect you to recognize that you might never fully understand. That some things cannot be learned intellectually. That there is a difference between choosing this life and being born into it with no other options."
"So I should just give up? Go back to my family and admit that you were right, that I cannot do this?"
"Maybe you should be honest about whether you actually want to do this or whether you just want to prove something."
"Prove what?"
"That you are different from other royals. That you are authentic and brave and willing to sacrifice. That you are not just a privileged princess playing a role." He met my eyes finally. "But Aanya, choosing to struggle when you have other options is not the same as having no choice. And if you are doing this to prove something instead of because you genuinely want this life, then yes, you should go back. Because this life will break you if you are not fully committed to it."
I stood up, legs shaking. "Thank you for making your opinion clear. I will save you the trouble of watching me fail."
"Aanya, wait..."
"No. You have been completely honest about what you think of me. The least I can do is respect that honesty and leave before I embarrass myself further by trying to belong somewhere I clearly do not."
I walked out of the pub, refusing to let the tears fall until I was outside. The evening air was cold and sharp, and I had no idea which direction led back to Priya's flat. My phone battery was at eight percent because I had forgotten to charge it. I had perhaps three pounds in cash in my pocket and no understanding of how the bus system worked.
I started walking anyway, in what I hoped was the correct direction, trying to hold myself together.
My phone rang. Unknown number. I almost ignored it, but something made me answer.
"Hello?"
"Miss Windsor? This is Gerald Patterson from Chamberlain and Cross solicitors. I represent Crown Estate. I am calling to inform you that we have filed a defamation lawsuit against you in the amount of two million pounds. You will be served with formal papers within the hour. You have seven days to retain legal counsel and respond to the complaint."
The pavement seemed to tilt beneath my feet. "Two million..."
"Your statements at the Brixton Community Forum, as well as your subsequent media appearances, have caused significant reputational and financial damage to Crown Estate. We have documentation of contracts canceled, partnerships withdrawn, and public trust diminished as a direct result of your allegations. Unless you issue a full public retraction and formal apology, we will proceed with litigation. I understand from media reports that you currently have limited financial resources, which presents certain practical challenges. You may want to consider discussing options with your family. I am authorized to convey that Crown Estate would be amenable to a settlement if approached through appropriate channels."
"What kind of settlement?"
"That would be a matter for negotiation between your legal representatives and ours. However, I can say that Crown Estate's primary interest is in protecting its reputation. A public statement acknowledging that your allegations were made in error, based on incomplete information or emotional distress, would go a long way toward resolving this matter without further legal action. Your family has already reached out to us expressing willingness to facilitate such a resolution."
"My family contacted you?"
"They indicated they would be prepared to provide legal and financial support if you were willing to issue an appropriate correction. I suggest you speak with them directly. You have seven days, Miss Windsor. I would advise you to use that time wisely. Good evening."
He disconnected.
I stood on a Brixton street corner, phone in hand, trying to process what had just happened. Two million pounds. Seven days to respond. My family already negotiating behind the scenes, preparing to bring me back into the fold if I simply admitted I had been wrong.
All I had to do was say I had been manipulated. Emotional. Misled by activists with political agendas. Say that Dev had influenced me, that I had not fully understood the implications of my statements, that I regretted any harm caused.
Lie about everything.
Betray everyone who had believed me.
Go back to being Princess Aanya, performing concern while changing nothing.
I looked around, trying to get my bearings. Nothing looked familiar. I had no idea where I was or how to get back to Priya's flat. My phone was dying. I was alone on a street in Brixton with three pounds and no way to pay for a taxi even if I knew how to call one.
And Dev's words were echoing in my head. That I was romanticizing struggle without understanding it. That I would leave when it got too hard. That I did not actually belong in this world.
Maybe he was right.
Maybe the palace's offer was just the universe telling me to stop pretending and go back where I belonged.
I started walking again, phone clutched in my hand, trying to hold back tears. Trying to figure out which direction was home. Trying to decide what home even meant anymore.