The Door Between Us

Alice’s POV 

I jumped to my feet at the sound of a knock on the door.
I already knew who it was.
I knew he would come—before I even heard the knock.
Part of me had been expecting him.
And a much quieter part… had been hoping he wouldn’t.

Matt shot a suspicious glance toward the door.
“Wait here,” I told him.

Another knock followed, louder this time—urgent, impatient.
I took a deep breath and called out,
“Who is it?”

“It’s me… Anton.” His voice was low and rough, but unmistakably him.

I knew it. I had felt it deep in my gut. Still, my heart dropped into my stomach for just a second.
I squared my shoulders and opened the door just a crack.

There he was—leaning on the doorframe with one hand.
His hair was disheveled, his bowtie loose around his collar.
He was still wearing the tuxedo from the event, but now he looked… worn. Tired. Like the weight of the night had followed him here.
There was something strange in his expression—his dark eyes glittering with something dangerously close to pain.

“What do you want?” I asked directly.

“I was worried about you,” he said.

“And why is that?” I shot back.
This was the man who had dragged me to that ridiculous event.
The man who stood there while I was humiliated—by his 'friends,' by his 'girlfriend.'
And now he was here, trying to pretend he cared?

“I’m fine. You can go, Mr. Alonzo.”
I moved to close the door.

His hand shot out and caught it.
“Alice, don’t…”

I paused.

“I am really sorry for what you went through tonight.
If I’d known what was coming, I would never have left your side. Not even for a second.”

“It wasn’t just when I was alone, Mr. Alonzo.”
I hated how my voice trembled, but I kept going.
“Even when I was standing right next to you, people found ways to humiliate me—and you watched it happen.
I never asked for your protection, but please don’t insult me with hollow apologies.
Let’s not pretend this is something it’s not. Please leave me alone.”

“Alice, you’re right. About everything,” he said.
His voice was quiet, almost broken.
“But believe me when I say—none of that was supposed to happen. All I wanted tonight was to spend a good evening with you.”

His eyes locked on mine—dark, glassy, and full of something I couldn’t name. Regret? Guilt? Pain?
His furrowed brow and clenched jaw told me he meant it.
For a second, I nearly believed him.
I opened my mouth to say something, but then—

“Alice! Who is it?” Matt’s voice cut through the hallway.

Anton’s expression shattered. The vulnerability disappeared in an instant.
Steel replaced softness. Fire replaced ache.

His eyes narrowed. “Is that Matt?”

Before I could answer, Matt appeared beside me.
He placed a hand on my shoulder—possessive, deliberate, like a claim.

“Hey, brother,” he said, voice smooth and smug. “Need anything?”

Anton’s jaw tightened. His eyes bounced between the hand, Matt’s face, and me.
“What are you doing here, Matt?”

“I’m doing what you failed to do—cheering her up.
It’s surprisingly easier when you’re not the one who ruined her night first.”

“I thought I made myself clear: stay away from staff. Do you need another scandal attached to your name?”

“Is that what this is now—staying away from staff? Seems like you’re the one breaking rules tonight.”

Anton’s gaze darkened as he stepped forward.
“Alice is my personal assistant. I don’t need your permission to talk to her.”

Matt shrugged, his hand still on my shoulder.
“During working hours, maybe. But this? This is just you barging into her night. Uninvited.”

Anton turned to me, as if waiting for confirmation. His voice was lower now.
“Am I bothering you?”

I gathered all my willpower not to say what I wanted to say.
Instead, I forced the truth.
“You’re both bothering me right now.”

A flicker of something shattered behind his eyes.
He looked away. Looked down.
And Matt… smirked.

“Go home, Anton,” Matt said. “You are not needed here.”

Anton glanced at me one last time.
His expression was unreadable—cold, disappointed, sharp.
Then he turned to Matt with even colder eyes.

“Sorry to bother you, Ms. Wonderland. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
He turned and walked away.

I closed the door behind him.

When I turned, Matt was still there, arms crossed.
I leaned against the door and faced him.

“I know what you did,” I said.

“Did what?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Showed yourself.”

“Should I have stayed hidden? Are you ashamed of me?”
“This isn’t about shame. It’s about how you used me to get under Anton’s skin.”

“I didn’t use you, Alice. I wanted him to see that he failed you—and I didn’t.”

“I don’t care about him. I care about myself.
And how you dragged me into this ridiculous war between the two of you.”

“I didn’t drag you. I was here for you.”

“No, Matt. You insisted. And now, you made it look like I chose you.”

“Why are you so afraid to be seen choosing me?
Would it feel better to be seen choosing him?”

“This isn’t about choosing anyone!” I snapped. “It’s about me. And how I was used tonight by both of you, to feed your egos.”

“Alice, I—”

“Don’t,” I interrupted.
“Just don’t. I’ve seen enough… Please leave”

He stood frozen for a beat, then nodded.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m leaving.”

He grabbed his jacket and left without another word.

I closed the door.
And I slid down against it, onto the floor.

My body felt heavy, like I’d been holding everything in—the insults, the tension, the fake smiles—for far too long.

What a night.

I let my head fall back against the wood and stared up at the ceiling.
And that’s when it hit me:

I was never the girl caught between two princes.
I was the war prize.
And I was done being fought over.