“This… isn’t for everyone,” I say. “This one is for one person.”
I look right into the camera.
“For you, Jade.”
My chest hurts saying her name like that.
“I don’t know if you’ll ever watch this. I don’t know if you should. But I need to say it anyway.”
The wind tugs my hair, the sound of waves mixing with my voice.
“People think they know our story,” I say. “Scholarship girl. Golden boy. Rich school. Poor girl. Bullying. Scandals. Headlines.”
I shake my head.
“They don’t know the real story. The one that started right here. On these cliffs. With a boy who thought he was a king and a girl who refused to bow.”
I can almost see her beside me. Hair whipping in the wind, laughing at me.
“Jade,” I say, voice breaking, “you changed everything.”
My throat closes. I push through.
“You told me no one is born better than anyone else. That crowns should be earned, not inherited. That love is action, not just words.”
A tear slides down my cheek. I don’t wipe it away.
“You made me want to be more than my last name. More than my money. More than what this place expects of me.”
I glance at the ocean.
“And then I let you down. Over and over.”
Back to the camera.
“I can’t undo what they did to you. I can’t take away the slime. The laughter. The nights you cried yourself to sleep because of my world.”
My voice drops.
“But I can promise I will spend the rest of my life trying to be the man you believed I could be. Even if you never take me back.”
My chest feels like it’s on fire.
“I’m not asking you for forgiveness,” I say. “You don’t owe me that. I’m not asking you to love me again.”
I swallow.
“I’m just… telling you, and the world, that I love you. Still. Maybe always.”
The words hang there, vulnerable and bare.
“I’ll be here,” I say softly, “no matter what you choose. Whether I’m part of your story or just a chapter you outgrew.”
I let out a shaky breath.
“You’re not just my queen, Gitanilla.You’re the girl who taught me what love actually is.”
I lean forward and whisper, just loud enough for the mic to catch:
