Prince Charles was once obsessed with a particular beauty, Anna

Host: The ballroom was drenched in gold light, chandeliers dripping like frozen stars, and the air trembled with the low hum of a forgotten waltz. The ghost of a party long ended lingered — a whisper of perfume, a laughter still caught in the corners of the grand mirrors.

Outside, the rain pressed against the tall windows, blurring the world beyond. Jack stood near the center of the empty room, staring at the floor, where shadows still moved — echoes of dancers who no longer were. Across the hall, Jeeny leaned against a marble pillar, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder like liquid ink, her eyes reflecting something both tender and unrelenting.

Host: The ghost orchestra played softly in the mind’s ear — a tune of pride, of missteps, of the tragedy that comes from confusing desire with devotion.

Jeeny: “You ever read what Ingrid Seward said? About Prince Charles and Anna Wallace?”

Jack: (half-smiling, cynical) “The one where she walked out after he danced with Camilla all night? Yeah. A royal heartbreak dressed in tuxedos and champagne.”

Jeeny: “She said he couldn’t understand why Anna left. Imagine that. The man couldn’t understand that while he was dancing with one woman, another’s heart was breaking right in front of him.”

Host: A faint draft stirred the velvet curtains, carrying the scent of dust and faded roses. The light flickered — a single chandelier bulb surrendering to time.

Jack: “You’re acting like it’s a moral revelation. People are selfish, Jeeny. Especially in love. Especially when they think they’re untouchable.”

Jeeny: “No, Jack. People are blind — not selfish. There’s a difference. Charles wasn’t cruel. He was lost. He wanted the one thing he couldn’t have, and in chasing it, he destroyed what he did.”

Jack: “Blindness doesn’t excuse damage. You break someone’s heart because you can’t control your own, that’s not love — that’s ego.”

Jeeny: “Or maybe it’s honesty. The kind we spend our whole lives avoiding. What’s worse — pretending to love someone because it’s convenient, or reaching for the one who makes you feel alive even when you know you shouldn’t?”

Host: The silence thickened. A clock somewhere deep in the palace struck twelve — its chime echoing like the heartbeat of regret. Jack’s eyes glimmered with something close to pity, or maybe memory.

Jack: “You’re saying Anna should’ve stayed? Should’ve watched him keep dancing with the woman he really wanted?”

Jeeny: “No. She was right to leave. But I understand why she loved him. Because love isn’t logical, Jack. It’s not a list of conditions. It’s... recognition. You see someone and realize you could be undone by them.”

Jack: “And yet that same recognition destroys you. Charles recognized Camilla — fine. But what about Anna’s recognition? Her love didn’t count because it wasn’t the one that lit him up?”

Jeeny: “That’s the cruelty of it. Love doesn’t measure fairness. It just is. We think we choose — but we don’t. Sometimes our hearts betray the people who deserve us for the ones who don’t.”

Host: A gust of wind rattled the windowpanes, scattering the candlelight across the polished floor. For a moment, Jack looked down, seeing their reflections flicker like two ghosts waltzing on cracked glass.

Jack: “You know, stories like that always sound tragic because we think love should make sense. But maybe it’s not meant to. Maybe it’s supposed to ruin you a little.”

Jeeny: “Yes. But only if it teaches you something. Charles didn’t learn. He rationalized. That’s what’s unbearable about that night — not the betrayal, but the blindness. The way he kept spinning with Camilla, believing he could have both women and still be loved.”

Jack: “And isn’t that most people? We dance with one, dream of another, and tell ourselves it’s fine. We live like emotional diplomats — signing treaties with one hand, burning them with the other.”

Host: The music seemed to rise again — a memory made sound. The ballroom shimmered faintly, as if the past was trying to replay itself, one more time, perfectly.

Jeeny: “Anna Wallace had dignity. She walked out. Most people don’t. Most people stay, waiting for the other person to wake up and see them.”

Jack: “Dignity doesn’t keep you warm at night.”

Jeeny: “No. But it lets you sleep.”

Host: Jeeny’s eyes glowed like candlelight — fragile but fierce. Jack turned toward her fully now, his shadow stretching across the ballroom floor like a bridge of hesitation.

Jack: “You think love without reciprocation can still be noble?”

Jeeny: “Yes. Because loving isn’t about being loved back. It’s about how deeply you can feel without losing yourself. Anna’s leaving wasn’t rejection — it was resurrection.”

Jack: “You sound like you’ve lived it.”

Jeeny: (softly) “Haven’t we all?”

Host: The rain began again, tracing delicate lines down the windows, merging the city lights into molten rivers. Jack took a slow breath, his voice quieter now, carrying less argument and more ache.

Jack: “You know what I think, Jeeny? I think Charles never understood what he lost because he never truly had it. You can’t lose what you don’t see.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. And that’s the tragedy — not that he chose wrong, but that he never noticed what was right in front of him.”

Jack: “We all have our Camillas, don’t we? The ones we can’t have, who make us ruin everything else.”

Jeeny: “And our Annas — the ones we should have cherished but didn’t.”

Host: The music faded, leaving only the sound of the storm. The chandeliers swayed slightly, scattering broken rainbows across the empty room.

Jack: “Do you think he ever regretted it?”

Jeeny: “Every day. But regret is useless once the dance is over. You can’t apologize to an empty chair.”

Jack: “No. But you can stop repeating the same song.”

Jeeny: “And maybe — that’s redemption.”

Host: The two stood there, facing the empty ballroom, each caught in the reflection of a thousand unseen lives. The story of Charles and Anna was just one among millions — two people mistiming their steps in the dance of human want.

The light flickered once more, and the room seemed to sigh, as if exhausted by the endless repetition of love and blindness.

Jeeny stepped forward, extending her hand.

Jeeny: “One last dance?”

Jack: (after a pause, with a faint smile) “Why not. Let’s get it right this time.”

Host: And as they moved — slowly, carefully, without music — the camera would pull back, the rain glistening against the tall windows, the city shimmering beyond like a thousand quiet witnesses.

In their reflection, the ghosts of Charles and Anna seemed to join them, silent but forgiving.

The lights dimmed. The room grew still.

And somewhere, in that delicate stillness, love — foolish, flawed, and human — found its balance again, for a fleeting, perfect moment.