I’ve never been particularly interested in Harry, but I was curious about Harry and Meghan as a couple. The biracial American actress had given up her career to marry a man whose lineage overshadowed his individuality. After they separated from Buckingham Palace and settled in California, Harry focused on one-off moneymaking projects that mostly involved just retelling his life story. I wondered why Harry didn’t seem inclined to pursue a career. I thought it was too bad that Meghan, an actress, turned her attention to hawking jam and swooning over dried edible flowers in a kitchen that was not hers.

I especially wondered why the two were creating such an intensely inward-facing life when they’d fled to California presumably in search of freedom and the ability to create themselves anew. They had the opportunity to see our celebrity culture up close. It’s a culture fueled by the idea that a person’s circumstances can always change. You can make your own luck. For royalty, change is verboten.

I remember when Meghan walked down the aisle at St. George’s Chapel in 2018 wearing the sleek white Givenchy gown designed by Clare Waight Keller. The dress didn’t evoke images of a fairy-tale princess, nor did it have the ostentatious drama of a gown destined for a Hollywood red carpet. With its bateau neckline and refusal of beads, ruffles and rhinestone, it was a dress that signaled a more straightforward, realistic vision of romance, marriage and, of course, the monarchy. I thought Meghan knew what she was getting into. I thought I knew. Like Meghan, I presumed the only difference between celebrity and royalty was degrees of notoriety.

“I thought, I grew up in L.A., you see celebrities all the time,” she said during an infamous conversation with Oprah Winfrey in 2021. “This is not the same, right? But it’s very easy, I think, especially as an American, to go, ‘Oh, these are famous people.’ It’s like, no, this is a completely different ballgame.”

In her new life, Meghan had observed nothing was quite like the suffocating, tradition-bound, highly visible role of a royal. Despite the financially lucrative shenanigans of Kardashians, Vanderpumps and Real Housewives, our celebrity ecosystem is far superior to any royal court. It isn’t exactly a meritocracy, but even our nepo babies have to prove their worth to command respect. Jack Schlossberg, the grandson of President John F. Kennedy, found this to be true when he solidly lost the Democratic primary to represent New York’s 12th Congressional District. Bronny James had to show the skeptics that he belonged in the N.B.A. because of his talent and not just to satisfy basketball historians itching for a son to play alongside his legendary father, LeBron James.