The End of First Love - Chapter 3

“Elizabeth, what is that look in your eyes!? That is not the attitude one should direct toward the future princess consort. It is disrespectful!”

“Future princess consort? Please, spare me your jokes. No matter what you say, my engagement to you is a contract with the royal family. It is not something you can break on your own whim.”

“Hah, do you really think I haven’t taken any measures?”

“No way…”

Seeing William curl his lips into a sneering smirk, Elizabeth felt a terrible premonition settle in her chest.

(He has always been cunning when it comes to such schemes.)

“Let me enlighten you. I have already obtained His Majesty’s approval for the annulment. Your arrogant attitude toward lower-ranked noblewomen, your countless acts of bullying behind closed doors, and even your infidelity—secret meetings with other men despite being my fiancée—all of these crimes have been presented to my father. As a result, he deemed the annulment of our engagement inevitable.”

With a loud thud, a stack of documents was dropped onto the table before her. The color drained from Elizabeth’s face. As her trembling fingers flipped through the pages, her heart filled not with anger, but deep sorrow.

(So, to William, I am someone he wishes to cast away, even if it means fabricating false accusations against me…?)

“Did His Majesty truly judge all of this to be true?”

“That’s correct. As proof, here is the decree approving the annulment of our engagement.”

The document William held up bore the unmistakable signature of the king.

“I see. So this engagement annulment is the will of the royal family.”

“Make no mistake—don’t even think about resisting. If the Baker Duke’s family attempts anything, these documents will be made public.”

With those parting words, which were more of a threat than anything else, William turned and left, his new fiancée clinging to his arm.

(What were these ten years to me…?)

The prince with golden hair—the boy who once saved her from drowning in the depths of despair—was crumbling before her very eyes.

She had fallen in love with him the moment she saw him again at the royal garden party, certain that fate had reunited them. She had been so grateful for the encounter, so deeply smitten. She had done everything in her power to become his fiancée.

Maria Castor, the daughter of a baron. The woman who clung to the prince’s arm with a frightened expression. Since she appeared in high society, everything had changed.

With her innocent, helpless gaze, she ensnared countless men, bending them to her will. Some noblewomen whispered that she was a wicked seductress, yet men continued to fall for her charms, and even those who once criticized her began to defend her.

Elizabeth had thought it was nothing but idle gossip, believing it had nothing to do with her. How foolish she had been.

Despite repeated warnings from her close friends, she had refused to listen. She never believed that William, of all people, would be swayed by Maria’s charms.

(Would things have been different if I had made more effort to deepen my bond with William back then? No… that’s not it.)

Even before Maria Castor’s arrival, the relationship between William and Elizabeth had already grown cold. It was not just once or twice that he had abandoned her at social events.

As memories of being left to stand alone at countless evening balls resurfaced, an unbearable sense of humiliation welled up inside her.

(What was I to William, really?)

A girl who had clung to him just because he once saved her from drowning. A woman who used the power of the Baker Duke’s family to force herself into the position of his fiancée.

Perhaps that had been his view of her from the very beginning.

The ten years of their engagement played through Elizabeth’s mind.

—The first time they formally met after their engagement. William took her hand and kissed it, looking like the prince from a fairy tale.

(I was ten years old then. Was that nothing more than a polite gesture?)

—Her eleventh birthday party.

“Because they match your blue eyes,” he had said, gifting her a pearl-studded hair ornament. She still treasured it. But anyone with common sense knew that pearls wouldn’t stand out against silver hair. It was an unremarkable, unimpressive gift—unbefitting of a royal fiancé. And he hadn’t even attended the celebration himself.

—The twelfth birthday party at the royal palace.

It was meant to be the crown prince’s engagement announcement. William had claimed to have a stomachache and left her alone without an escort.

(And yet, later that night, he attended the banquet without any issue…)

—The tea party hosted by the queen at thirteen.

William ignored his fiancée and instead surrounded himself with a group of noblewomen.

—His fourteenth birthday celebration.

She hadn’t even been invited.

—Her social debut at fifteen.

He had escorted another lady, making up some excuse about debutantes not needing escorts.

—Their regular private audiences at sixteen.

From his room, she had heard the unmistakable sounds of a woman’s voice.

—The royal ball at seventeen, hosted by the king.

William had danced the first waltz with a noblewoman she didn’t even know—despite the tradition that a fiancé should dance with his betrothed first.

—At eighteen…

Not a single private meeting had been held that year.

—At nineteen, at the queen’s birthday celebration.

A baron’s daughter she had never met had boldly declared to Elizabeth, “William belongs to me.”

—And then, at twenty, her engagement was annulled.

“I was never loved at all, was I…?”

Her words, spoken softly, echoed through the empty room before fading into silence.