Work Text:
Mikay could feel it—the way Gino always looked at her, but never asked for anything.
Since the civil unrest that had nearly torn Yangdon apart—Jao’s rebellion, Ashi’s betrayal, and the pain that followed—Mikay had worked tirelessly to rebuild the kingdom. She still carried Jao’s memory in her heart, and Gino never pushed her to erase it. He was just… there.
Helping. Supporting. Quietly hurting.
But what she didn’t know—what no one knew—was that Gino was doing far more than delivering documents and calming nobles.
He was uniting the broken East and West of Yangdon, village by village.
And he never told her a word.
The division between East and West had deepened after the attempted coup. Jao’s former loyalists in the East no longer trusted the palace. The West, still loyal to the crown, looked at the East with suspicion.
Gino volunteered to “deliver supplies” to the border towns—but in reality, he was meeting with rebel elders, helping build new trade routes, and even brokering silent forgiveness between feuding regions.
“You’re risking a lot,” one elder warned him in secret. “If the palace finds out…”
“They won’t,” Gino said. “This isn’t about politics. It’s about people. And about her.”
“She doesn’t even know,” the man said.
Gino smiled sadly. “That’s the point, love should not be bought or to made to feel like an obligation. I want her to love me for who I am.”
“What makes you believe she doesn’t?” Asked the man.
Gino stayed quiet for a moment before finally answering honestly. “After the attempted assassination, I have felt a divide growing deeper and farther between us. I worry that she only cared for me out of guilt, and I don’t know how to talk to her.”
The old man looked at him with eyes so wise with all his years as he gently pat him on Gino’s back. “Communication is the foundation of trust, and without trust there is no love. You must find a way to talk to her.”
Gino let those words flow through him, but felt despair with how unfair it was that he always had to fight for their relationship. For once he wanted Mikay to fight for him.
Every night when he returned to the palace, Gino would walk past Mikay’s door. Some nights, he’d see the light still on—her silhouette curled on a chair, staring at a letter Jao had once written.
“She still loves him,” he whispered to himself.
King Anand saw it too. “You care for her more than anyone else, Gino. But love must be freely returned.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “That’s why I am planning on leaving.”
The king looked shocked but allowed Gino to continue.
“I believe some time apart will help Mikay focus on her duties to Yangdon, and give me time to heal.”
“Are you certain of your decision?” The king asked.
“Yes. Thank you your majesty for everything.”
“Thank you Gino. One more thing for you to remember. I didn’t pick you for my daughter for the law, I chose you because I felt that you were the best man to make my daughter happy. I hope you leave with your heart open to Yangdon and Mikay.”
Gino said nothing as he bowed and walked away. He had plans to start making for his departure.
Gino plans included a school his mother had chosen and to live with his parents until he felt like he wanted to be truly independent. It would be a new life. Clean. Far away. Safe from his feelings.
Like with everything in life about making plans, Mikay found out by accident.
She had gone to the East herself on a diplomatic trip, frustrated that her policies weren’t working—yet somehow, the people were already cooperating . They told her stories:
— Of a young man who helped rebuild a destroyed bridge.
— Of someone who paid for new farm equipment out of his own pocket.
— Of “the man who didn’t want praise, only peace.”
Everywhere she went she continued to hear stories of Gino. All of the time and sacrifices he was making to help rebuild Yangdon.
And then one elder smiled at her gently. “He loves you very much, Princess. He never said it, but every time he looked toward the West, we could see it.”
Her heart cracked open. She felt ashamed with the distance she felt between the two of them. How could he keep all of there wonderful things from her? How did she not notice? She asked herself why again was she taking advantage of his feelings and presence in her life. She vowed to do better as soon as she returned to the palace.
She would tell him everyday how much she loved him, how lost she would be without him, and make sure they were working together as true partners, no matter what anyone or the palace laws state.
At the end of the day there was no one more deserving to be King by her side. Gino had done all this—for Yangdon, for her—and said nothing and asked for nothing in return.
Back in the palace, Mikay stormed into his room.
Empty.
A note sat on his pillow:
“Don’t cry for me. I’ve already had more from you than I deserve. I’m proud of the woman you’ve become. That’s enough. — Gino”
Tears blurred her vision. “No… no, you don’t get to disappear on me now!”
She ran through the palace halls. “Where is he?!” she screamed at a startled guard.
“Ma’am—Princess—he left for the airport!”
The rain fell in sheets as Mikay’s car raced toward the airport. Her chest heaved with each breath, panic rising.
She pushed past security, soaking wet, searching every terminal.
Then she saw him.
Boarding Gate 14.
“Gino!”
He turned.
She stood, panting, dripping, heart pounding. “You idiot.”
“Mikay…”
She walked toward him, tears and rain mixing on her cheeks. “You did everything . You saved me from everything, even myself. You held this kingdom together. You held me together. And you were just going to leave? Without a word? Why…?”
“I don’t want to force my love on you,” he said quietly. “And I was tired of hurting when you couldn’t see. And I understand, Yangdon always comes first… but I’ve been like we are oceans apart. That maybe your feelings for me were born out of the stress and uncertainty of the coup.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she stepped closer to him, wanting desperately to bridge the divide. “You still think I don’t love you?”
His eyes searched hers as he said nothing.
“You were there when I couldn’t breathe. You helped me move on from Jao without ever making me forget him. Showing me what love truly is, patience, understating and kindness. You also didn’t ask for anything—but you gave everything of yourself for me, for Yangdon.”
She took his hand. “I don’t want to ever lose you. I will fight anyone and everyone to keep you by my side because…”
“Mikay…” Gino tried to interrupt.
“I love you, Gino.” She said breathlessly.
Silence. Sharp, sacred silence.
Then he laughed—soft, broken, disbelieving—and pulled her into the tightest, most desperate hug he’d ever given her.
“I was going to America to get some space… to heal.” he said against her hair.
She smiled into his chest. “Then start healing here with me, always and forever.”
They returned to Yangdon hand in hand.
Mikay made it public: she credited Gino for reuniting the kingdom, named him an official Peace Ambassador, and praised him before the entire court. The court was forced by their princess to relent and Gino stood by her side as an equal, as her King, as they continued to make choices for best of all of Yangdon.
But what mattered more than speeches was how they were together—no longer hesitant, no longer afraid. Mikay chose to show her love freely and openly.
They kissed in the public square during the Moon Festival. They danced in slippers in the royal kitchen while listening to their favorite music. They argued and made up and held each other like nothing else mattered.
Because in the end, it didn’t.
Epilogue
Years later, when their daughter asked, “Mama, how did you know Daddy was the one?” She smiled gently.
“Because when I was broken, he didn’t try to fix me. He just stayed. And by the time I healed, I realized…”
“…he’d always been my home.”