Snow fell gently, blanketing the city in a soft glow. Every window flickered with warmth — fairy lights, paper stars, Christmas trees reaching toward the glass like they were trying to touch the night.
The streets were alive with people. Families hand in hand. Children in puffed-up coats throwing snowballs. Laughter floated through the air like music.
Jace walked quietly through it all, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, scarf pulled high over his nose. His breath fogged the cold night in slow, quiet clouds.
It was beautiful.
But it only made him feel more alone.
He used to love Christmas. Back when his parents were alive. When the lights meant something. Now they were just proof that other people had somewhere to be.
He was twenty-six. No family. No girlfriend. No plans.
Just a text from Ray.
"Hey, man. Hope you're coming tonight. Don't make me drag you."
Ray meant well. He always had. So Jace said yes — not because he wanted to, but because he didn't want to say no again.
The bar was easy to spot — glowing in soft gold and silver under a sign that read Starlight Lounge. Inside, the air was thick with warmth and noise: holiday music, loud coworkers, cinnamon and spiked eggnog.
He found Ray near the bar.
"You made it!" Ray grinned and handed him a drink. "I was betting you'd bail."
Jace managed a smile. "Almost did."
"Glad you didn't." Ray clinked their cups. "You deserve a little fun."
It was kind. Jace appreciated it more than he could say.
For a while, he stood with the group, nodding when people spoke, laughing along with stories he barely followed. It was fine. Easy. But eventually, the crowd felt too tight. The noise too much.
He slipped away to an empty booth near the back.
Alone again — and somehow, that felt better.
He pulled out his phone. Not to check anything. Just… habit.
The screen lit up.
The Wayward Prince and His Strong, Loving Knight.
The bookmark was still there. Untouched. Waiting.
He hesitated, then tapped.
Author on hiatus.
Same chapter. Same cliffhanger. Same line:
I'd rather die with you than live without you.
Jace didn't know why it still hit so hard.
Maybe it was the loyalty. The way the knight looked at the prince, even when the prince didn't deserve it. Maybe Jace just wanted to be looked at like that.
He stared at the screen, lost in it — until a voice pulled him back.
"Hey, handsome," a woman purred, sliding into the booth beside him. "You look like you could use a good night."
Jace blinked. She was dressed well — bold lipstick, confident smile — but there was something practiced in her tone. Too smooth.
"I… uh…" he stammered.
She leaned closer, her perfume warm and heavy. "Just one night. I'll make you forget all this sadness, sweetheart."
His mind went blank. His throat closed up. He panicked.
Am I really about to lose my virginity to a stranger in a bar?
Not even someone I like — just someone who offered?
His heart pounded. He wanted to say no, but his mouth betrayed him — words spilled out, awkward and senseless.
"Uh—I mean—thanks but—I just—it's not—um—"
She gave him a look — a mix of amusement and pity — then slipped away with a shrug.
Jace sat there, frozen. Humiliated.
And then he saw them — his coworkers, some of them watching from the other side of the room. Whispering. Laughing.
Great.
He grabbed his coat and bolted.
The cold slapped him the moment he stepped outside — sharp, biting, almost like the night was punishing him for existing.
He didn't stop walking. Couldn't. He just kept moving, head down, breath puffing out in quick clouds, the ache in his chest rising with every step.
"Seriously?" he muttered, voice barely audible over the wind. "I can't even talk to a woman without sounding like a complete idiot."
"The embarrassment clung tighter than the snow on his coat."
He wasn't angry. Just tired. So damn tired of hoping something might change — and always walking away feeling like this.
The lights around him sparkled. Windows glowed with warmth, but he barely saw any of it. Just blurs. He turned down a quieter street, where no one could see the look on his face. Where no one would recognize the guy who always laughed politely in the break room but never actually said much.
His feet crunched through the snow.
Maybe I should just quit. Start over somewhere. Somewhere no one knows me.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
He ignored it.
But then — ding.
That tone.
The tone.
His heart skipped.
He froze mid-step, pulled out his phone, and stared at the screen.
THE WAYWARD PRINCE: New Message Received.
He didn't breathe as he opened it.
Dear LonelyForever234,
We're sorry to announce that this story will not continue.
The author — who had been quietly battling cancer — passed away today.
His final request was to thank a few readers who meant something to him.
One of those names was yours.
"Tell LonelyForever234 I'm grateful he believed in my knight."
The world fell away.
Jace stood there, in the middle of the crosswalk, blinking at the screen as the words blurred.
He knew me?
He hadn't even remembered using that username. Just something random he made years ago. But the author remembered. Through all the silence. Through the pain.
Jace felt something crack open in his chest.
"He didn't even realize he'd stepped into the street. Just stood there — phone in hand, heart open, eyes wide."
And then —
A flash of headlights.
A horn.
The squeal of tires on ice.
BOOM.
Impact.
Then darkness.