Zelda's POV

My archeology class is, as always, exciting and interesting. After the lecture, Shad approaches me, as I slide my laptop into my bookbag.

"Zelda," he begins cheerfully but calmly.

"Yes?" I zip my bag and throw it over my shoulder.

"Have you considered applying for the internship position I told you about?"

I pause for a moment. "I thought the deadline had already passed."

"The application reopens every semester. If it fits into your schedule, I highly recommend applying for next semester and gaining some experience in research. It's crucial for master's and PhD applications."

"That is true," I say thoughtfully.

"We could discuss it in my office," he offers.

"Er... I would love to, but I don't have much time," I say, tapping my apple watch.

"I won't keep you long," he assures with a friendly smile.

I consider how much time I have to spare. I am meeting Link after his appointment with Dr. Deku. He should be done in about 45 minutes, which would be plenty of time if I wasn't planning on speaking to Father before. I really want to talk to him about Ramses before he leaves for his business trip.

How much time does it take to get across campus and how long will it take to talk to Shad and Father? I should have just enough time to speak with both of them before making my way to the department of counseling.

"Alright," I nod with a friendly expression and watch as a smile forms on Shad's face.

"Splendid, let's go to my office."

I follow Shad upstairs. His room envelops me in a warm embrace of knowledge and history. Shad motions for me to take a seat beside his cluttered desk, where stacks of ancient manuscripts and potted plants take up most of his work space. The scent of old parchment and the faint aroma of exotic spices mingle in the air, lending an aura of mystery to the space.

Shad leans forward in his worn leather chair and shares with me the details about the internship. Gesturing to a map pinned on the wall, he traces the route of the internship with his finger. "We'll spend weeks unearthing artifacts, deciphering inscriptions, and piecing together the puzzle of the past. It's hard work, make no mistake, but the rewards are immeasurable. You'll gain practical experience in field archaeology, working alongside experts in the field. Plus, there's the chance to make discoveries that could rewrite history books!"

Shad's passion is infectious, and I find myself drawn into his vision of adventure and discovery. After he has outlined the application process and deadlines, he encourages me to apply for next year.

"Your academic performance has been nothing short of exceptional," he commends. "Your grades are outstanding, and your research papers consistently reach graduate level. It would be an absolute waste not to channel your knowledge into tangible research."

"I don't know what to say," I admit. "That's all really kind of you, and I–" My eyes spot the news article about the recent discovery in Mesopotamia lying on his desk, and I can't help but address the topic. "You're reading about the excavation in Iraq?" I ask, nodding at the article.

Shad's eyes light up with genuine passion. He picks up the paper. "Of course I am reading about it! I heard about it before it was even published!"

"How?" I ask, my excitement matching his.

"I am acquainted with a fellow professional who contributed as a member of the research team. The way they decoded those ancient irrigation systems is truly ingenious," he remarks.

"It's so fascinating how technology lets us uncover these secrets!"

"Not just technology. It's the people behind it," he says. "That's one of the perks of being on a research team."

He really knows how to sell the idea to me. Maybe I really should apply for the research team. I'm just worried I won't have time to get a part-time job if I commit to this. On the other hand, a research position would look really good on my resume, so maybe Father would be willing to help pay for my rent. I didn't really want to be dependent after I move out, but I'm still in college after all, and maybe it's okay to ask for a little financial support.

"Speaking of discoveries," Shad continues, "since you're majoring in Biology, you must have heard about the recent breakthroughs in molecular biology. There's this fascinating study on the intricate communication networks between plants, revealing how they exchange information through chemical signals."

"I have heard about that!" I say, trying my best not to sound like one of Link's crazy fangirls. But I recognize that I really am a fan of Shad, his work, and the topics he discusses inside and outside of class. I mean... How does he know so much about so many different areas of study? "It's truly groundbreaking," I smile. "The potential enhancement of crop resilience and optimization of agricultural practices are... mind-blowing!"

"Being involved in this research would be incredible," I admit. Shad is right, applying for an internship position at HU would be a great first step. Just to get my foot in the door. "I will send out my application soon," I promise, feeling excited about the idea of working with Shad and other renowned scholars.

"I look forward to it," he says. "Now don't let me keep you any longer. I know you have places to be."

I nod appreciatively and wish him a good day before stepping out of his office. With ample time on my hands, I stop by Father's office before I meet Link.

I expected that, without an appointment, it would be impossible to speak to him. I assumed he would be stuck in a meeting, or that his secretary wouldn't let me anywhere near his office after storming right past her to yell at Father last year when Link got expelled. But fortunately, the secretary is on her break so I head straight for my father's office and find that he is all done with his meetings for the day.

"What brings you in today?" He asks surprised, looking up from some documents.

"I just wanted to see you before you leave for Sweden," I say.

"Switzerland."

"Right," I nod, "Switzerland."

"Would you fancy some Swiss chocolate when I return?" He asks. He's not necessarily smiling but somehow he seems really pleased to see me.

"Sure, I love Swiss chocolate. But only if it's not too much of a hassle." Settling into the chair across from his desk, I prepare myself to address a difficult subject. "I wanted to talk to you about something. Or rather, someone."

His focus sharpens. "Who would you like to discuss?"

"Ramses."

A mixture of caution and hope forms on his face. "What about Ramses?"

"I really enjoyed meeting him," I express, and a warmth of approval crosses my father's face. "I like him."

"Is that so?" Father suppresses a smile, but it's clear in his voice how happy this makes him.

I nod. "I like him a lot actually."

"Well," his smile widens sheepishly, as if he's trying to conceal how proud he is that his little plan worked out. "I can tell he likes you too."

I fake a smile, pretending to be happy about it. "I know. That's why..." I pause and take a deep breath, preparing myself for the hurricane that will unfold with these next few words. "We are getting married."

It robs my Father's breath. He looks frozen, as if somebody pressed pause on him. "P—pardon?" he stammers.

"We are in love and we are getting married."

"You and Ramses?"

"Yes."

"Ramses proposed?!"

"It was a mutual decision, but he said he was going to give me a properly-sized ring soon."

"Is this another one of your 'jokes'?" Father scans my face for the truth. I shake my head, not showing any signs of insincerity. "Where is this sudden revelation stemming from?"

"Ramses is a suitable husband," I assert confidently. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"I–I suppose, but... You have only known each other for a few weeks."

"Yes, but we have been seeing each other a lot," I lie. "I feel like we have known each other for years."

"Be that as it may, marriage is still a–a tad precipitous," he tells me, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"I know it's a bit rushed but..." My hands gently cradle my stomach, unsure whether to show embarrassment or pride, "I figured it would be best to get married before I start showing."

Father's complexion shifts through various hues—from blue and green to red and purple, and everything in between. I worry he might faint.

"What?" is all he manages to say.

"So do we have your blessing?"

"My..." he pants, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief. "My..."

"Blessing," I prompt, waiting for a response. "Yes or no?"

"You are pregnant?" he whispers, his gaze passing through me as if my body is nothing but the hollow shell of a long gone ghost... As if my entire future is crumbling to pieces right before his very eyes... As if this news meant I am already as good as dead.

"Father, please," I say calmly. "This is a serious matter."

"Tell me you're joking," he pleads desperately. "It's not very funny."

And it's also not very comforting to know that, if I were to get pregnant, he would completely lose it.

"I'm utterly serious, Father. Love and marriage are no joke to me," I say and I swear I hear a feeble whimper from the other side of the desk. It must be hitting him pretty hard. Good. I decide to keep pushing. "Do we have your blessing or not? I mean, we're going to go through with it either way but Ramses said it would be appropriate to at least ask you first."

"What about..." he swallows, forcing himself to calm down slightly, "What about Link?"

"Who cares about Link?" I retort, and it stings to say it, but I need to know how Father truly feels about him.

"Did something happen between you two?"

"It doesn't matter," I say.

"But–but–but what about school?"

"What about it?"

"You have to finish your studies," he swallows.

"Don't worry. I can balance wifely duties and academia."

"But Zelda!" he gasps. "You are way over your head here! You can't handle all those things at once!"

"Sure I can."

"It's too much! What about the child?"

In disbelief, I repeat his question, "What about the child"? I shake my head, unable to keep up the charade any longer. I raise my voice unintentionally, my brows furrowing in anger. "What about me!" I exclaim. "Think about your own child!"

Father retreats into silence, shrinking in his oversized chair.

"What about me, Father?"

"Zelda..." his voice whimpers quietly.

"You're so concerned about everything and everyone but your own daughter. It's unbelievable."

"That is not true," he says in such a weak tone that it sounds like he doesn't even believe himself. "I am deeply concerned about you."

"Really? Did your concern drive you to arrange for me and Ramses to fall in love?"

"What are you implying? That this is my fault?"

"Fault? I thought you wanted this to happen?"

"I–I..." he begins to stammer while shaking his head.

"Just what were you thinking?" I confront him out of frustration. "Did you honestly believe I wouldn't see right through it? Did you genuinely think setting me up with some privileged kid would fix all our problems? That it would make me forget all about Link? Did that really seem like a foolproof plan to you? Starting with the charity auction and then that masquerade... Penn was in on it too, wasn't he?

I hope those photos of me and Ramses brought you some joy, because we had to go through a great deal of discomfort that day. Did it ever cross your mind that Ramses doesn't like being set up by you guys either? Did you consider his feelings in all of this? Probably not, right? How could you? You're like a machine, lacking any grasp on human emotions. It's like you're fixated solely on practicality and bureaucracy—marry your daughter off to another billionaire's family. What could possibly go wrong, right?"

Father wears a pained expression, like a dog caught snatching food from the dinner table and now he's getting in trouble. But beneath the shock and frustration of being caught, I find a layer of guilt and shame unfolding on his face. And that gives me hope that maybe, just maybe, despite all his actions, he does feel bad for what he did.

"Zelda... I know you must be hurt, but try to keep your voice down, please."

Is that really his main concern right now? Other people overhearing our conversation?

I give him an understanding smile and whisper softly, "I love you, Father." Then, at full volume, I declare, "But seriously, screw you."

His mouth agape, words fail him completely.

My expression softens as I take a deep breath to calm myself. "I don't mean to swear, but damn you, Father, why can't you just be happy for me?"

He shakes his head in despair, looking more and more speechless. He wants to deny it, but something is holding him back. Perhaps he knows that he is in the wrong here. Or maybe it's the fear of losing me.

Settling back into the chair, I interlock my hands. "Listen, Father... I am not angry, and I don't mean to raise my voice at you. I'm just a little confused and hurt, okay? That doesn't mean I'm going to cut ties with you again. I really don't want that to happen. But I need you to understand how much you've let me down this time. It truly breaks my heart to find out that you aren't supportive of me and Link."

"I never meant to make you feel like I wasn't supporting you two," he quietly remarks. "I've been trying my best to lend a helping hand to Link and be respectful toward the both of you."

"I know, and we are both very grateful for everything you've done for us. Especially helping him stay at HU, offering him a job in Japan to help pay for his tuition, and suing Karusa on his behalf. But that doesn't excuse your actions. Do you understand?"

"Zelda... I just wanted you to have options. I didn't want you to settle for anything less than perfect."

"I'm not settling. It's a privilege to be in a relationship with Link. I wish you could see that."

"I'm sorry, but I don't." He lets out a resigned sigh. "I really don't, Zelda."

I frown, unsure how else to respond.

"Don't get me wrong... I can see the depth of love and care you pour into your relationship," he says, compassion and regret laced into his voice. "And I do know that you love that boy with all your heart, and maybe he loves you with all of his, but what does he really have to offer? What has he ever done for you?"

"He does lots of things for me. You just don't see it."

"That might be true, but if that's the case, then please tell me about those 'lots of things'. Because I have been breaking my head over this for months. I've witnessed you surrendering pieces of your heart and soul, striving to offer him even a sliver of happiness. I observed your heartache when he was in a coma, saw you prioritize him over your studies, consistently coming to his rescue. Whether he was expelled or without a place to stay, you supported him tirelessly. So to me, it looks like most efforts are one-sided. But I might be wrong, so... So just tell me. What does he truly do for you? Just name one thing... Besides getting into fights."

No trace of anger marks his face or the tone of his voice. Only despair and empathy linger, as if his curiosity isn't merely casual but a desperate plea for evidence of our relationship's true worth.

As I study Father's face, I find it hard to come up with any proof that will change his mind. I kept thinking that Link just wasn't good enough in his eyes. Maybe his grades weren't good enough or the fact that sports was his chosen career.

But in the past year, Father always seemed to hold Link in high regard. Father knew that Link was a dedicated and strong-willed man even before we became friends, he assigned him to watch over me before we were dating, and he supported his career by attending his games against Lorule. He even spoke on his behalf at the appeal hearing, assuring that he can return to HU, and then offered to write him a check to pay for tuition.

So I do believe that Father harbors a genuine liking for Link. The issue arises only when Link is in my company—such as during our first dinner together, when I revealed the identity of my boyfriend. Father's initial reaction was surprisingly negative, despite his pre-existing positive opinion of Link.

I kept thinking if only he could see how happy I was with Link. How much I cared for him. But maybe he saw it all along. In fact... I think he knows exactly how happy I am. And I fear that that's just it—he thinks I'm settling, not because Link falls short, but because my happiness isn't reaching its fullest potential. He desires for me to experience an even greater level of joy and fulfillment.

"Father, if you want me to be happy, then please try to see that I already am content with my life."

"I'm glad you feel content with life," he says, sounding almost sad about it, "I just can't shake the sense that there's more happiness out there for you."

"So you want me to throw away the happiness I have for a chance at more?"

"I just want the absolute best for you. Sometimes, we don't realize what we're missing until we find it. I only wish to see you truly thrive and experience a joy beyond what you've known."

"And what does that ideal happiness look like to you?" I ask. "If your vision is for me to host lavish dinners, dress impeccably, invest in stocks, travel the world for business, live in an enormous hill-top mansion, and be overall more like you, then I'm sorry but our priorities are just not aligning. You need to accept that, despite the challenges, despite our history, I am genuinely happy. Perhaps it's not the happiness you envisioned for me, but it's the kind of happiness I deserve and want."

"I understand that you may think that, but I believe it's important for me to know what's best for you due to my own experiences and my role as your fath–"

"But it's equally important for me to forge my own path," I interrupt, " and to make my own experiences, so I can learn and grow from life."

"I just want to protect you from any harm and ensure a bright future for you."

I see his point, but I also need him to see mine. He needs to comprehend that my definition of happiness differs from his, and that the path to reaching it isn't a one-size-fits-all journey.

"A parent's role isn't to plan out their children's lives and make every decision for them," I explain as if I knew what it was like to be a parent. "While it might appear to be the best approach, try to think of it like teaching a kid how to ride a bike. You don't jump on and pedal for them. Instead, you guide them, demonstrate the process, and let them take a shot until they grasp it. You cheer them on when they get it right, and when they fall, you catch them."

This might be a difficult metaphor to grasp, given that he did not teach me how to ride a bike when I was little. But the essence remains the same: guiding, supporting, and letting me find my own balance in life.

Leaning forward, I extend my hand across the desk. My palm gently placed on top of his hand, I offer comfort as I tell him, "You've been riding my bike for quite some time now. It's time you let me try it for myself. Just be there for me when I need you to catch me. Can you do that?"

After a brief pause, Father gives me a subtle nod of the head.

"Then I will be okay. You don't have to worry about me, or Link. He is good to me and he is working on himself. As am I. As are you. Change doesn't happen overnight; it's a gradual process that's often arduous. There are even moments when it seems like there's no progress at all, but I firmly believe that anyone striving to become a better version of themselves deserves the chance to prove it."

While at times it seemed as though I was caught in an endless loop, I too have grown over the past year. And I am grateful for the chances given to me. That's precisely why I aspired to offer that same chance to people like Pik, Revali, or Malice. I was even willing to give Karusa a chance, had he shown me that he was willing to become a better person. But unlike the others, he didn't want to try.

Similarly, Malice and Revali started off as rather rude and ignorant, and Pik was often persistent, but I've witnessed remarkable growth in all of them. And if Malice is capable of being a good person, or at least trying to be one, then I'm sure Father can too.

"We all deserve a chance," I continue. "I gave you a chance to be a father and came back home to you, didn't I? So please consider giving Link a chance. If not for him, then for me."

I watch his face closely. It's difficult to discern his thoughts. He looks like he is caught in a psychomachia—an inner battle of the soul. It appears impossible for him to take this step, and though it hurts, I understand the internal struggle he's grappling with.

"If it's really that hard for you to accept this life for me, then I genuinely wish you could have talked to me instead of going behind my back. I bet we could have found common ground over a lavish dinner. I would have even dressed impeccably. Because I understand that your ideal happiness differs from mine."

My words are a lot to digest, but I remain patient, waiting for him to absorb it all. He looks lost and shocked, as if something else is haunting his mind.

Oh, it might be helpful to mention, "I'm not pregnant." That seems to help clear his mind slightly. "And this goes without saying but I'm not in love with Ramses either."

When Father doesn't speak for another minute and actively tries to avoid my eyes, I calmly get up and smooth out my skirt.

"Thanks for listening," I say. "And I'm sorry for scaring you like that. I felt it was necessary to show you that your plan of setting me up wasn't as flawless as you thought."

He doesn't respond and I can't tell if he's hurt, angry, thoughtful, or simply not listening.

"This is a lot to take in, and I don't expect an immediate response," I say. "Take all the time you need to process."

His eyes remain directed downward as he nods at me. "Zelda..." he begins, but nothing follows.

I stand by the door, his eyes remain low. "It's okay, Father. I understand you're trying to care for me in your own way." He responds with a smaller nod, his eyes finally meeting mine, reflecting shame and regret.

"Attempting to interfere with your relationship was wrong," he says, finally admitting to it. "You were right, and I need to respect your ability to make your own decisions. Moving forward, I'll focus on being there for you and offering my support. I assure you, I won't make such immature mistakes again."

A genuine smile meets his frown across the room. "That's all I wanted to hear."

"I truly am... ashamed of my actions."

"It's good that you recognize your mistake. But don't dwell on it. It's done, and we've talked about it. Now, let's move forward."

He nods somberly in acknowledgment.

"Before you leave for Switzerland, consider apologizing to Ramses as well. Okay?"

When my hand reaches for the door, he stops me from exiting his office. "Zelda," he bids, but the words he is eager to say refuse to be spoken. "I just..."

I tilt my head, looking at him with nothing but patience and understanding. "If you have something to say to me, just say it."

He takes a half-determined breath, and tells me hesitantly, "I may not have understood it at first, but your happiness is what matters most. If Link makes you happy, then I'm willing to give him a real chance." He lowers his head, avoiding my eyes again. "I once told you that 'boys are temporary, but transcripts matter a lifetime.' I realize that my words were hurtful and dismissive. But I want you to know that when your mother passed away, I was devastated. I felt lost and didn't want you to experience the pain of losing someone you love. Losing your mother made me think that guiding you toward a stable future was the safest path. But deep down, I've come to realize that relationships are an indispensable part of life. I don't want you to miss out on love and companionship because of my fears. Transcripts do matter, but boys are not always temporary. I wanted you to find a balance that brings you both academic success and happiness in your relationships. I thought Ramses was the answer; I believed you both could inspire and push each other. However, I now see, more than ever, that Link motivates you like none other. The remarkable growth I've witnessed in you—those moments I perceived as weaknesses, such as staying at the hospital and managing school during his coma, standing up for what you believe is right, and selflessly helping others—were all indications of your incredible strength. I should have recognized it sooner."

Father's eyes find their way back to me, tears threatening to fall.

"After your mother passed away," he says, the timbre of his voice carrying the echoes of past grief, "I wished every day that love wasn't temporary!"

"It's not." My hand reaches for my necklace. "I still hold her in my heart. And I know she still loves us, too."

The plea in his eyes intensifies as he seeks mercy. "Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

He is hoping I will build a bridge with him that will bring us back together. A bridge for the prospect of healing past wounds. What he doesn't know is that I have already built that bridge all by myself. All he has to do is to cross it.

After baring his soul, Father stands on the precipice of anticipation. His eyes escape mine again, and I am starting to understand that he is avoiding eye contact to hide his emotions.

With a smile that bypass his gaze, I answer, "I've already forgiven you."

His eyes remain aimed at his hands and—though I wish I could offer more comfort—with nothing left to say, all I can do is wish him a safe trip and leave his office so he doesn't have to hold back his emotions any longer. I hear a weak sigh behind me as I walk out, gently closing the door behind me.

The secretary, back from her break, sits at the reception with a guarded expression as she spots me walking out of the president's office. She is ready to call security, probably expecting me to cause a scene as always. But instead, for the first time, I leave the administration building with a smile.

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