Page 66 of Defying the Crown
As I stepped into the sterile confines of the hospital room, the scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the air. My heart quickened at the sight before me: Daniel, his face streaked with tears, sat by Harald's bedside, staring at the frail figure lying motionless among the white sheets.
He looked up as I approached, wiping his eyes hastily with the back of his hand, and offered a shaky smile, filled with guilt. "I'm sorry," he managed to whisper, his voice hoarse with emotion.
“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, my own heart aching in response to his pain. “How’s he doing?”
Daniel took a shaky breath, and I could see the hope flicker in his eyes. "The doctors say he's gaining weight again. They're hopeful they can take him off the ventilators and feeding tubes soon." His fingers trembled as they gently stroked Harald's motionless hand, his gaze never leaving the prince's pale face. I felt an unexpected surge of relief wash through me, even as the familiar ache in my chest—that mixture of devotion and unspoken longing—throbbed anew. Five weeks of watching Harald deteriorate had been torture, not just for Daniel, but for me as well.
A heavy silence settled between us, punctuated only by the rhythmic beeping of the machines. I glanced at Harald, lying unconscious, and felt a wave of emotion rise within me. I had watched him struggle, and now, helplessly, I stood witness to the remnants of his suffering.
And then, despite everything—the turmoil of my own heart—I found myself saying it. “Daniel, can I be honest with you?”
He nodded, his expression morphing into one of deep curiosity mixed with uncertainty.
"I'm jealous of you," I continued, feeling the words spill out against my will, each syllable a burden I'd carried for longer than I could remember. "You've been there for him in ways I could never be. You've given him something that I could only dream of." My voice wavered slightly, and I clasped my hands tightly together to hide their trembling. The hospital air seemed to grow thinner as I finally acknowledged the truth I'd buried beneath years of dutiful service and quiet devotion. "I've loved him for so long, but I know that it won't ever be anything more than what it is now—this one-sided affection that I've learned to live with, tucked away where it can't interfere with my duties to him or the Crown."
Daniel's eyes widened, his shock reflected in the slight parting of his lips. The hospital lights cast harsh shadows across his face, highlighting every nuance of his stunned expression. A weight lifted from my chest—strange how confession could feel like both release and devastation simultaneously. But I didn't give him a chance to respond. There was no point. The truth had lived within me for too long to be comforted away with kind words.
"I just want to see him happy," I continued, my voice growing steadier as I embraced this final surrender. My fingers uncurled from their tight grip, palms damp with nervous perspiration. "And if that's with you, then... so be it." The words tasted bittersweet—like medicine necessary for healing but difficult to swallow. Years of quiet longing compressed into a single moment of acceptance that Harald's happiness would never include me the way I'd dreamed.
I turned away, unable to bear the weight of his silence, the uncertainty hanging in the air thick enough to choke on. The ache in my chest tightened as I walked away, leaving him with a torrent of thoughts that I hoped would find a way to make sense of what had just unfolded.
As the hospital’s fluorescent lights flickered behind me, I couldn’t help but feel that maybe I had let go of something I had clung to for far too long. And all the while, I hoped that Harald would wake up, no matter the cost.
Chapter 27
Harald
The darkness has been endless. Time means nothing here in this void where I float, haunted by memories that play on endless repeat. Daniel's face when the truth was revealed—the way his warm brown eyes turned cold and distant, how his gentle smile twisted into betrayal. Over and over, I watch him back away from me in that hotel room, shaking his head in disbelief. "It was all a lie," he had said, his voice breaking. The sound echoes through my consciousness, a torment I can't escape. Sometimes the visions shift—Daniel running through the crowd of reporters, shoulders hunched against their shouted questions, while I stand helplessly watching him disappear. Other times, I'm reaching for him but my fingers pass through empty air, and he vanishes like smoke.
Sometimes I hear voices—Ella, Erik, even Father—but they fade like wisps of smoke, meaningless against the crushing weight of Daniel's absence. One voice remains constant though, a gentle murmur of Daniel’s voice saying my name over and over that keeps me tethered to something beyond this emptiness, anchoring me when I feel myself drifting too far into the void.
Light creeps in slowly, piercing through the heavy blanket of unconsciousness. My eyelids feel weighted, but I force them open, blinking against the harsh fluorescent glare. As my vision clears, my heart stutters—Daniel is here, slumped in a chair beside my bed, dark circles under his eyes and his clothes wrinkled as though he's been here for days.
This can't be real.
My throat constricts with emotion. Is this death, then? My final punishment—to see him here, so close, knowing I can never make things right? The machines around me beep steadily, but even that feels distant, unreal. This must be hell, I think, my own personal torment—to be forced to watch Daniel for eternity, close enough to see the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the flutter of his eyelashes, but never able to touch him, to hold him, to beg his forgiveness. Like Tantalus reaching for water that forever recedes from his grasp, I am condemned to an eternity of watching the one I love, knowing my lies destroyed any chance of reconciliation.
The thought sends a wave of panic through me, and I want to scream, to thrash against this fate, but my body feels leaden and unresponsive. Even the pain in my chest feels muted, distant, as though it belongs to someone else. This is my punishment, then—to remain conscious but paralyzed, forced to witness what I've lost.
Daniel's head snaps up, his eyes meeting mine. For a moment, we just stare at each other, the air heavy between us. Then his face crumples, tears spilling down his cheeks as he launches himself forward.
"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," he sobs, carefully wrapping himself around me, his head resting against my chest. The weight of him is solid, warm—real. His tears soak through the thin hospital gown, and I can feel him trembling. Each sob that wracks his body sends vibrations through my chest, and the sensation is so visceral, so impossibly real, that my mind struggles to process it. This can't be hell—no torture could replicate the precise way Daniel's fingers curl into my hospital gown, or the familiar scent of his shampoo as his hair brushes against my chin.
Slowly, cautiously, I lift my arms. They're weaker than I remember, but I manage to wrap them around him. The sensation of holding him again sends a jolt through my entire body—like a defibrillator straight to my heart. This isn't a dream. This isn't a hallucination. My arms aren't passing through empty air; they're holding something solid, something real. This is Daniel, here and whole in my arms, apologizing when I'm the one who should be begging for forgiveness. The realization crashes over me like a wave, washing away the lingering shadows of my personal hell. He's here. He’s come back to me.
I want to speak, to tell him he has nothing to be sorry for, to beg his forgiveness for my own lies, but my throat is too dry, my voice lost to days of disuse. Instead, I hold him closer, pressing my face into his hair as tears slip silently down my cheeks. The steady beeping of the heart monitor marks each precious second of this miracle I never thought I'd have again, each beat a reminder that I'm alive, that this is real, that somehow, against all odds, Daniel has returned to me.
Daniel's breath hitches against my chest as he tries to calm himself. His fingers clutch at my hospital gown, and I can feel him gathering his thoughts. The heart monitor beside us keeps its steady rhythm, grounding me in this moment that still feels surreal.
"I understand now," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "Ingrid... she showed me your journal. Your therapy journal."
My heart skips a beat, and the monitor betrays my sudden anxiety with an erratic blip that seems to echo through the room. Those pages contain my deepest fears, my darkest thoughts—everything I couldn't say aloud to anyone, not even to Ingrid sometimes. The journal was supposed to be my sanctuary. I feel naked, exposed in a way that even this thin hospital gown can't compare to.
"I read about how scared you were," Daniel continues, shifting slightly but not letting go. "How you felt truly seen for the first time when you were with me. Just Harald, not the Crown Prince." His voice cracks. "I'm so sorry I didn't let you explain. I was so hurt, so angry... but I understand now why you couldn't tell me right away."
I try to swallow past the dryness in my throat. When I speak, my voice is barely a whisper, rough from disuse. "I wanted... to be real. With you."
Daniel lifts his head to look at me, his eyes red-rimmed but soft. "You were real with me. Everything except your title—that was all real. I see that now." He reaches for the water cup on the bedside table, helping me take small sips through a straw. "I almost lost you because I was too stubborn to see it sooner."
