The Third Party Doesn't Want to Love Again
The first rays of dawn slipped into the room, but Arwa hadn't slept all night. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, lost in a maze of tangled thoughts. The emperor's letter was still engraved in her mind, as if it had been etched onto her heart rather than mere paper.
She whispered to herself, her voice barely audible: "Will I finally achieve my goal since reincarnating into this world…? But, will Kyle accept me?"
Doubt crept into her mind, making her heart pound with unease. She lifted her finger to bite it, trying to suppress her tension, then exhaled in frustration and buried her face in the pillow, as if attempting to shake herself free from the whirlwind of worry. But at last, sleep claimed her, closing her eyes just as the first threads of morning light filled the room.
Elsewhere…
Kyle sat quietly, sipping his usual coffee as he watched his reflection in the dark liquid inside the cup. His messy blond hair was still damp, with droplets of water trickling down his neck after his bath. A white towel was wrapped around his neck, wiping away the remaining moisture—a serene yet imposing sight.
Amidst the silence, a knock echoed at the door.
He lifted his head slightly and spoke in his deep, masculine voice, "Come in."
The door creaked open slowly, revealing a man in his fifties. His features carried the nobility of an aristocrat, his dignified presence commanding respect even before he spoke. He wore a crisp white shirt and elegant brown trousers, complemented by a tie that added to his stately aura. His hazel eyes, framed by black-rimmed glasses, held a sharp and confident gaze.
Kyle offered a calm smile. "Good morning, Father."
Denis, in a composed tone, replied, "Good morning, my son. How are you today?"
---
The morning was peaceful in the palace, and the gentle breeze slipped through the wide windows, carrying the scent of dew-kissed leaves. In the spacious room with ornately decorated walls, Kyle sat behind a dark wooden table, pouring black coffee into two porcelain cups adorned with golden patterns. The steam from the hot drink swirled in the air as if participating in the silent dance between him and his father.
Kyle handed his father the cup. "Here you go, Father."
Denis smiled calmly. "Thank you, son."
Denis observed his son with eyes that carried the weight of time—a mixture of wisdom and concern. Though Kyle's expression remained composed, his green eyes held dark shadows, like scars that had yet to heal.
Taking a sip of his coffee, Denis gently placed the cup back on the table, clasped his hands together, and spoke in a serious tone:
"I'll get straight to the point, son. Yesterday, I received a call from your uncle, Theodore."
Kyle raised an eyebrow slightly, taking a slow sip of his coffee before replying in an indifferent tone, "And what does my uncle, the Emperor, want?"
Denis exhaled deeply, as if carefully choosing his words before responding in a heavy tone,
"He told me that it's time for you to marry. You're not a young man anymore, Kyle."
Kyle's hand tensed on the table, his fingers tightening around the cup for a brief moment before he parted his lips to respond—only to be interrupted by his father, who seemed to anticipate his objection.
"Listen to me carefully, Kyle. We all go through experiences in life—some successful, some painful. But we can't remain prisoners of the past. The experience you went through eight years ago was a failure, and I know very well how much you suffered because of it. But you can't spend the rest of your life trapped in a love that no longer exists."
Denis's voice was firm, but not harsh. His words carried a fatherly compassion, an attempt to guide his son back to the right path—the path he had strayed from years ago.
"The woman you loved got married and had two children. She built a new life for herself, while you remain stuck in the past, son. It's time to move forward—with a woman who deserves you, with a partner who can truly stand by your side."
Silence stretched between them, the only sound in the room being the slow ticking of the clock, as if announcing the beginning of something new—or perhaps, the end of something old.
Kyle lifted his gaze to his father, his eyes like a dark forest hiding an unseen storm. Then, in a voice calm yet carrying the weight of a smoldering rage, he asked,
"And what business does my uncle have with my marriage?"
His tone was cold as ice, but Denis was not the type to be deceived by the surface calm of a brewing storm. He knew his son was angry, yet he chose not to acknowledge it, merely watching in silence, waiting to see how things would unfold.
He knew this conversation wouldn't end easily. In fact, it might just be the beginning of a much greater storm—one that could reshape Kyle's life entirely.
Kyle was still holding his coffee cup, but its warmth no longer reached him. The coldness seeping into his soul was far stronger than any external heat. He sat across from his father, his features laced with bitter sarcasm and clear resentment, while his green eyes narrowed, struggling to contain the anger simmering inside him.
"If I'm going to marry, that decision is mine alone!" he said sharply, placing his cup on the table with a slight force, producing a soft thud that carried a weight heavier than its sound.
Denis, his voice calm but firm, replied, "Your uncle Theodore has already arranged the engagement. This is now a reality we must face."
Kyle's jaw tightened as he stared at his father in stunned disbelief, laced with a hint of mockery. How could something this serious be decided without his input?
"A reality?" he muttered slowly, as if tasting the bitterness of the words, then let out a short, humorless laugh. "And when was I supposed to be informed? Were you waiting for me to stumble upon my wedding invitation on my desk?"
It wasn't just anger that consumed him—it was a deep sense of betrayal. As if his life had become nothing more than a chessboard, with others moving the pieces at their convenience.
"And why am I the last to know? Are you the ones living my life, or am I the one who has to live it?"
He didn't wait for an answer, his voice darkening as he continued, "Does my uncle control my future now? He has no right to make such decisions for me, even if he is the Emperor himself."
Denis remained silent for a few moments, as if giving Kyle the space to vent his anger, before finally speaking in a softer tone, "Son, no one is forcing you into anything, but—"
Kyle cut him off sharply, "But you already have! And what about this woman? Aren't you being unjust to her as well? I will never love her, and if I marry her, I'll be condemning her to a miserable life. Is that what you want for her?"