Why was I crying now, because he had promised to hide the fact that I had fallen down the stairs or because he was with someone else, I don't know. Full of rage, I kicked the wall, knocking over a vase. The pain went through me again. The water wetted my hem. Arms wrapped around me: "Watch out, you're going to hurt yourself." Why did he always come when I didn't want him to? "I'll do it, then you'll have enough material for your stupid show!" I wriggled out of his grasp and slapped him across the face: "How could you do this to me, how could you let them photograph me when I was defenceless in a hospital? I could just put an end to it!" I bent down and grabbed a piece of glass and held it close to my wrist: "Do you know how easy it would be for me to stop living!" Belle, stop it, you're crazy!" he shouted and knocked the piece of glass out of my hand. He pressed me against the wall and formed a roof over me: "I had no choice, don't you understand?" I hissed at him: "You are the prince, you always have a choice!" "They would have kicked you out of the audition because you were too boring, I would never have let that happen," he gently stroked my cheek. He wanted to protect me from going home, but why? "Nicolas...?" There was silence. "Don't say anything, I know we're just friends and I know we haven't known each other long but...", he couldn't think of anything else to say. He lifted my chin so that I looked at him: "Belle, please, believe me, I didn't mean to hurt you." I just looked at him, seeing the reflection of my eyes in his. He came closer and closer. We joined our lips, it was the most beautiful kiss I had had in a long time. I kissed him, taking him a foot further into the grave, I should stop but it felt so good. He broke away from me and from the wall: "Belle, I'm so sorry, I don't know what got into me." Oh, Nicolas, I don't know either. I grabbed his hand out of instinct. "Belle, I don't understand." I stepped closer to him: "Don't say anything, please." He understood and we kissed again. We have everything, Your Majesty," said a male voice in the background. I opened my eyes and saw Ralph in the corner of my eye and a camera next to him. "Nicolas, what is the meaning of this?!" Before he could answer me, Ralph spoke up: "You two were cinematic, and I would never have thought of that with the broken glass." My heart dropped into my stomach: "Did you know about this, Nicolas?" No, I..." he seemed speechless. "Everything is just a show for you, isn't it? You don't even know what reality is anymore," I was damn angry and started to slap him, but stopped halfway. No, you don't even deserve that," I said with contempt and went back into the studio and sat down where I had been sitting. Everything is just a game, everything. Make-up assistants freshened up my make-up. I remained silent for the rest of the live broadcast and answered the questions with a fake smile.
"You dear viewers have voted and the girl of the week is Cathrinne." Cheers could be heard from all sides. "So ladies, now we will read to Prince Nicolas which girls must, unfortunately, leave the castle." Nicolas stood up and opened an envelope, pausing artificially to speak: "Taylor, Alexsandra, Meerinda, Meandy, Tobie, Flora, Fantesse, Gabrielle's, Meranda, Tandy, I wish you a pleasant journey home and a good future. Unfortunately, things didn't spark between us." The ex-candidates rose in rows and came forward. Small camera clips followed, the so-called highlights of each one. They said goodbye to the prince. Some cried, some took it calmly, others pleaded and refused to leave the castle. They were helped along by security guards. After another commercial break came the last five minutes of the evening, "Now there are only 15 girls left to conquer the prince's heart, what will he decide? Who will leave us? You will see next week, I wish you all a good evening".
Everything went dark and the sets were dismantled. I rose from my seat and was pulled to the side by someone, it was dark but I still recognised him by his profile, it was Nicolas. For a while we looked into each other's eyes, well at least I assumed we did. He held me by the arm, but not forcefully but rather calmly, yet firmly. He cleared his throat as if to pull himself together: "Belle, can I talk to you?"