Adnan walked down the grand hallway of his castle, his footsteps echoing against the polished marble floor. At his side walked his personal servant, a man chosen by his father, that Adnan had once known well. A pang of bittersweet nostalgia tugged at the king's heart, but he brushed it aside, his jaw clenching as he focused ahead.

It seemed like only yesterday that Adnan and this servant had been inseparable — two men from vastly different worlds who had found each other despite it all. Adnan, the soon-to-be king, and the servant, the humble peasant who had captured his heart with his personality. I've never felt more alive during those days. Adnan thought to himself, sighing.

But fate had other plans. Adnan's father, the reigning king at the time, had caught wind of their relationship and put an end to it swiftly, deeming the servant a distraction that Adnan didn't need.

Now, years later, Adnan sat upon the throne he had always been destined for, and the servant stood beside him as his servant, a cruel twist that Adnan could not bear to acknowledge. The king's heart ached with the weight of their shared past, but his pride would not allow him to confront it. Never.

As they walked, Adnan's mind was filled with conflicting emotions. A part of him yearned to reach out, to take the servant's hand in his own and beg for forgiveness for the years they had lost...but instead, Adnan found himself consumed by a growing hatred for the very person who had once meant everything to him. He blamed the servant for the pain of their separation, for the years they had spent apart. If only he wasn't a peasant...it could've worked out. My father would've accepted it...

But most of all, Adnan hated himself for the weakness he felt whenever he looked into the servant's eyes.

As they approached the throne room, Adnan knew that he had a decision to make. He could confront their past, acknowledge the love they had shared, and risk the scandal and turmoil that would surely follow. Or he could do what his father had done before him — cast the servant out once again and deny the truth.

He took his seat upon the ornate throne, his eyes fixed straight ahead as he tried to compose himself. He noticed the servant standing attentively at his side, and his heart clenched, a bitter taste of regret and longing rising in his throat. Even now, Adnan clung to his father's beliefs like a drowning man clinging to a raft. He told himself that his love for the servant had been a fleeting fancy, a youthful indiscretion that he had long since outgrown. He convinced himself that the kingdom needed a strong, virile king, one who could produce heirs and secure the bloodline...

But deep down, Adnan knew the truth.

"Don't you have anything better to do other than standing around? Go bother Amir or something. I'm busy."

He didn't like being this way towards the servant...but perhaps putting a wall between the two of them was for the best.