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Not a King

Luke

A month had passed since accepting the role of the king in my home country of Qatar, but my hands still moved automatically to adjust the phantom tie at my neck. For years working in England at my family’s oil business, it was rare that I went to work without a tie. It was rare that I didn’t go to work in general.

With any thoughts of England came the influx of memories of the one woman who I would have stayed there for. I would have given up all of my father’s hopes for me to become king if only she had felt the same for me as I did for her.

I shook away all thoughts of Sophia as I tried to do every single morning. Even after some time had passed, she was still lodged firmly in my mind. I wanted to know what she was up to, if she finally wrote the story that she’d come to England and Qatar to write, and most of all, if she was happy.

When she left me the first time, I had flipped around and become the stalker that she had been to me when she was hungry for the story. But this ti
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