Waylen had always thought life-changing decisions happened gradually. The slow buildup of events, the weighing of options, and the hesitation before taking a step forward.

  But this—this was different.

  He had two months to dismantle his life, to close every door behind him, to say goodbye without truly explaining why. He couldn’t tell them the truth—not his friends, not his colleagues, not even his family. He could only leave quietly, efficiently, and permanently.

  At first, he thought there would be hesitation.

  He thought something in him would resist the idea of giving everything up. But the longer he sat with it, the more he understood that he had already decided.

  It wasn’t just about walking away from the world he knew—it was about stepping into a future shaped by expectations he hadn’t yet experienced.

  And that future included marriage.

  Waylen had never thought much about marriage.

  Not seriously, anyway.

  It had always seemed distant—something that came later, something other people prioritized. His relationships had been fleeting, functional, dissolving when the weight of expectations became too much to bother with.

  Love wasn’t the issue. Attachment was.

  Staying meant complication. It meant responsibility. It meant navigating emotions that inevitably faded with time.

  And yet, here he was, weighing the possibility of a marriage he wasn’t actively seeking.

  To a queen, no less.

  Selene hadn’t promised romance. She hadn’t sugarcoated what this would be. It was a political arrangement, a necessity. She needed an heir, needed the bloodline to continue. That was the truth of it.

  But politics aside, she had still asked him to choose.

  She hadn’t forced him.

  She had given him time.

  That mattered.

  Marriage wasn’t about companionship in this case. It wasn’t about late-night conversations or shared laughter over meaningless things.

  It was about legacy.

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  It was about duty.

  Could he accept that?

  Could he step into a commitment that wasn’t rooted in love, knowing it might never be?

  Would it be enough if respect were the foundation instead?

  Selene was composed, deliberate, precise—a woman accustomed to control. There was no hesitation in her words, no unnecessary explanation. She was sharp, focused. A queen who carried the weight of leadership with ease.

  Beyond that? He didn’t know.

  Not yet.

  But that, too, was part of the unknown he was stepping into.

  Love could come later, or not at all. That wasn’t the point.

  What mattered was the opportunity. The shift in reality, the change in purpose.

  And despite every reservation, every moment of hesitation, he knew he wasn’t going to say no.

  ...

  His resignation letter sat unfinished on his laptop for a week.

  The words were simple. They weren’t dramatic. They weren’t meant to linger.

  "Effective immediately, I am resigning from my position. I appreciate the experience and opportunities provided during my tenure."

  Nothing more. Nothing personal.

  But when his manager called—voice laced with polite confusion, a tinge of concern—Waylen hesitated.

  “You sure?” The man’s voice was calm, steady. “You’ve been here for years, Waylen. No second thoughts?”

  Second thoughts.

  Waylen glanced at his screen, where his notification tray still displayed meetings, projects, and deadlines. Things that had once occupied his mind had once mattered in some fleeting way.

  And now, they meant nothing.

  His fingers curled around the edge of his desk. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

  His manager sighed, as if expecting more explanation, but Waylen had already closed his laptop.

  There was nothing left to discuss.

  And for the first time in his life, he was truly done.

  Saying goodbye to friends was more difficult, not because he felt attached, but because they expected him to stay.

  “We’ll keep in touch,” they said.

  “When are you coming back?”

  “We’ll visit when you settle in.”

  Waylen smiled at all the right moments, nodded where expected, and avoided every direct answer.

  “I’ll be across the world,” was all he gave them. “No phone, no email. Just wanted to say goodbye.”

  Some didn’t believe him. Some assumed he was exaggerating.

  It didn’t matter.

  They would eventually understand.

  His parents reacted with muted indifference.

  A phone call. Dry responses. No real emotion.

  His father barely paused. “Where exactly are you going?”

  Waylen watched the street outside his window, tracing the lights of passing cars with distracted ease. “Far.”

  His mother sighed, distracted as always. “You’ve never been one to stick around, anyway.”

  A pause.

  Long enough to recognise the emptiness of the exchange.

  Waylen exhaled slowly.

  “You won’t hear from me again.” His voice didn’t waver.

  Neither of them asked why.

  The call ended.

  And just like that, his ties were severed.

  By last week, there was nothing left to do.

  He had handled his affairs, packed what little he needed, and waited.

  And in that waiting, the restlessness returned.

  The same unease he had felt when the portal first appeared—that sharp awareness, that hum beneath his skin, that feeling of inevitability.

  It wasn’t regret.

  It wasn’t fear.

  It was the knowledge that he had reached the threshold.

  That soon he would step through.

  And there would be no turning back.