flat. She was kind enough to take me in on Thursday night, as I couldn’t bear to go home and face the photographers. Then she went to my flat, and with Isla, packed up some of my things and told me I could sleep on her sofa in the living room for as long as I liked. They both spent that night holding me, crying with me, consoling me. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt through all of this, I’m blessed with amazing friends, both old and new.
Luckily, this bit of news hasn’t reached the press yet, and thanks to Priya’s help, I’m safely hidden from the world. I know the news will eventually break. I know I’ll have to go back to my flat and face the paparazzi.
But I’ll never be able to face their questions about Xander without falling apart.
The front door opens, and I swivel towards the sound. Priya had run out to get a Chinese takeaway for dinner tonight.
“Darling, I’m home,” she calls out cheerfully.
I force a weak smile as she shuts the door behind her and kicks off her shoes. She moves through her tiny flat, one that is decorated with loads of framed prints and bright colours. If anything should be able to cheer me up, it would be spending time with Priya in this colourful space, with her sparkling personality.
But all I feel is sadness and pain. All I can see is the future with Xander, the one he won’t allow us to have because of his feelings about himself. My chest physically aches inside for him, and I fear it will never heal.
“Hot and sour soup will make you feel so much better,” Priya says as she places the paper bag down on the kitchen table. Then she looks at me. “Okay, that’s a lie. You won’t feel better, but it’s so hot, your scalp will sweat, and you’ll at least be distracted.”
I can’t help but smile. “You’re such a wonderful friend.”
“Because I’m treating you to hot and sour soup and egg fried rice? You need to raise your bar on that front,” she teases.
I watch as she bustles about her kitchen, retrieving big red bowls and floral-patterned plates, and I begin unloading the takeaway cartons. The smell of sweet and sour prawns and chicken in black bean sauce wafts towards me, but I don’t care. I don’t want to eat. All I have done since I ran away from Xander is exist. My world is grey and cold, and I want his sun back in my life. He called me his Sunshine, but in truth, he’s mine. It is his light that made me bloom and grow and not fear what the future might hold. For so long, I feared losing myself. My independence. Not being the woman the world wanted for the Prince of Wales.
But with Xander, I found a partner who wanted me to have those things. Who went to the king to fight for me. I also realised that I could give up some of that if it meant being with a man who truly loved me for me and didn’t care what the world thought about it, because love came ahead of everything else.
Love.
I shove down the lump that has formed in my throat again. I open containers as Priya places the cutlery down, and as we sit down to eat, I hear my phone ringing from its position on the coffee table.
I freeze. Anytime I hear it, I hope with all my heart it might be Xander.
“Do you want to check it?” Priya asks as she takes a seat at the small table.
I shake my head. I know better, because I know Xander.
He won’t come back.
We sit down to dinner, and I pick listlessly at my food while Priya keeps up a stream of chatter, from a new biscuit idea she has to what we should watch on Netflix tonight. Lord, she’s such a good friend, trying her best to keep the conversation light, and one day, I will find a way to pay her back for all the kindness she has shown me this week.
Once we have finished eating and tidied up the kitchen, I retrieve my phone from the coffee table. And despite what my head knew, my foolish heart sinks when I see it’s an unknown number.
I access my voicemail and listen to the message. And as soon as I hear the voice, I gasp in shock.