C1 I Confessed My Love!

Good morning, Prince Charming.

Good afternoon, Prince Charming.

Good night, Prince Charming.

Prince Charming, you are my crush.

Prince Charming, would you be my boyfriend?

...

For three solid months, Evelyn had been steadfast in her routine, confessing her feelings to Prince Charming without fail. Yet, she never received a single reply.

Pressured by her family, she faced an arranged marriage to an unpleasant old man.

Marvin, her Prince Charming, was the only man she ever cared for, leaving her no choice but to make one final attempt.

After bolstering her courage with a little alcohol, she arranged to meet with him.

By the riverside, a chilly breeze made her shiver uncontrollably.

"Evelyn, did you want to see me for something?" came Marvin's smooth, cultured voice from behind.

Turning around, she was met with his strikingly handsome features.

Her heart clenched, a flutter of nerves unsettling her.

Gathering her bravery, she looked up at him and blurted out, "Marvin, I like you."

Then, she closed her eyes, her heart pounding erratically.

But his response was like a bucket of ice water: "I'm sorry, I already have a girlfriend."

A buzzing in her ears.

Her heart felt like it had crumbled to pieces.

A hollow, aching void formed in her chest.

Stunned and bewildered, Evelyn stood frozen.

Before she could muster a word, Marvin spoke again, "If there's nothing else, I should get going. My girlfriend is waiting for me."

His indifferent declaration, even as he mentioned his girlfriend, was accompanied by a slight smile.

His eagerness to leave was like a dagger to Evelyn.

Rooted to the spot, she erupted, "If you weren't interested, why didn't you just say so in a text?"

For three months, she had sent heartfelt messages.

She had believed there was a chance.

"I never got any messages. You must have sent them to the wrong person," he said, then turned to leave.

His departing figure was the epitome of detachment.

Sent to the wrong person?

But to whom?

All of Evelyn's hopes crumbled.

The marriage to the detestable old man was inevitable.

She collapsed to the ground, as forlorn and helpless as a stray dog in the rain.

Beside her, two unopened cans of beer lay forgotten.

Without a second thought, she reached for them and drank deeply.

In her tipsy haze, she pulled out her phone and dialed the number saved as 'Prince Charming'.

*Beep! Beep!*

Connection established.

Silence enveloped the other end.

A silence so profound, it magnified the collapse within Evelyn's heart.

Tears broke through as she cried out, "You jerk! If you didn't like me, why couldn't you have told me sooner? Why?"

"Do I look like a pushover to you?"

"My dad doesn't care for me, my stepmom doesn't, my sister doesn't. What have I done to deserve this? Why does everyone treat me this way?"

"And guess what? I'm about to marry some old guy old enough to be my father. Hilarious, right?"

Her words slurred, her mind a haze.

Evelyn had no idea what she was rambling about.

She paused, gasping for air.

Then, a voice, arrogant and presumptuous, cut through from the handset, "Where are you?"

Deep, raspy, oozing with allure...

Evelyn's insides turned to butter.

This... wasn't Marvin.

"It's none of your damn business. Who the hell are you to me?" she snapped, cursing before slamming the phone down.

Fuming, she shoved her phone into her pocket and slumped against the railing, slipping into unconsciousness.

Ten minutes later, Evelyn was whisked away.

Her rescuer: a man confined to a wheelchair, yet possessing a face of impeccable beauty.

Eagle-sharp eyes, a sculpted visage, his handsomeness a rarity in this world.