Be a Queen, Not a Princess

The glare of the crystal chandelier stung my eyes. This was Chris Lewis's birthday party, where the city's elite had gathered. I stood in the corner, holding a glass of champagne, watching as everyone's eyes implicitly accepted me as the "Mrs. Lewis" candidate — myself. For three years, he had always called me "Natalie," promising to spoil me like a princess. "Natalie, once I'm through with this busy spell, we'll get engaged." He whispered this in my ear only a few days ago. Suddenly, the music stopped, and the entire room fell silent. Chris Lewis held a bouquet of white roses and made his way through the crowd toward the terrace. There stood a woman in an off-white long dress; she was his former piano teacher, Mindy Shaw. My heart sank suddenly. "Mindy," he knelt on one knee, his voice filled with a humility I had never heard before, "I have waited five years for you. Please give me one more chance—marry me." Mindy Shaw said nothing, only lowering her gaze toward him. The whispers around me pricked my ears like needles. "So Mr. Lewis's heart has always belonged to Teacher Shaw?" "What about Natalie Lynn? Weren't they about to get engaged?" Judging by the look of it, Natalie Lynn is probably out of the running. I gripped the wine glass tightly, my knuckles whitening. Three years together couldn't outweigh his lingering attachment to his past love. I turned and walked out of the banquet hall; the driver tried to follow but I waved him off. The late-night wind carried a chill as I returned alone to the villa we once shared. The Sycamore Grove in the courtyard was planted by him, who had said he would propose to me beneath its thick, flourishing branches. Now, only bitterness remains. I called the gardener. "Cut down all these trees." My voice was chillingly calm. The worker faltered for a moment: "Ms. Lynn, these have been carefully tended by Mr. Lewis..." "Do as I say, and the payment will be doubled." The sound of the chainsaw shattered the night, and one after another, the sycamore trees crashed down. I stood by the window, watching the trees that once symbolized our promises turn into shattered branches, and a corner of my heart crumbled with them. "Woof! Woof!" The golden retriever Milo rubbed against my leg. We adopted him together three years ago, and Chris Lewis once said he would be a member of our future family. But in recent months, he seldom took Milo for walks and often forgot to feed him. I knelt down, running my hand over Milo's soft fur: "From now on, I'll be the only one to keep you company."