The palace corridors were unusually bright that afternoon.
Sunlight poured through the tall windows, casting long patterns across the marble floors. Servants moved quickly, preparing for the upcoming celebration. Everywhere Kaelen turned, there was movement—anticipation. He barely noticed any of it.
"Kaelen!"
The voice pulled him back. He turned just in time to see Lyra approaching, her steps light, her expression brighter than he had seen in days.
There was something almost radiant about her. "Lyra," he greeted, straightening slightly.
"I was just looking for you," she said, closing the distance between them. "You've been impossible to find lately."
Kaelen gave a faint nod. "I've been busy."
"Clearly," she replied, though there was no irritation in her tone—only amusement. "Everyone is busy. The entire palace feels like it's preparing for something grand." She paused, her smile widening just a little.
"Well… I suppose it is."
Kaelen didn't respond. Lyra didn't seem to notice.
"I spoke with Father this morning," she continued, her voice carrying a note of excitement she didn't try to hide. "Everything is set. The announcement, the celebration… all of it."
She stepped a little closer. "Tomorrow, Kaelen."
Her eyes searched his, expecting something—anything. Excitement, Agreement or anything.
But Kaelen's gaze drifted, just for a second.
Not far. Just enough to break the moment.
His thoughts slipped—unbidden.
To a quiet street. To a familiar figure turning away.
To Elara.
Lyra kept speaking.
"…and the guest lists are already being finalized. Nobles from the northern provinces are arriving early, and Father said—"
Kaelen nodded once. "Good." It was automatic and distant.
Lyra didn't falter. "And I was thinking," she continued, "perhaps after the announcement, we could—"
Her words blurred. Kaelen heard them.
But he wasn't listening. Not really.
Instead, his mind replayed something else entirely.
The way Elara had walked away. The way she hadn't even hesitated.
As though avoiding him had become… natural. His jaw tightened slightly.
"Kaelen?" Lyra's voice broke through again.
He blinked, refocusing. "Yes?"
She smiled softly.
"I was saying we should ride out beyond the eastern gardens after the celebration. Just the two of us. It's been a while since we've had time alone."
Kaelen paused. A brief silence stretched between them.
"If that's what you want," he said. It wasn't cold.
But it wasn't warm either.
Lyra didn't seem to notice.Her smile only deepened.
"It is."
She turned slightly, her excitement barely contained now.
"There's so much to prepare. I can't believe it's finally happening."
Her voice softened, almost dreamy. "I've waited for this for so long."
Kaelen watched her. Studied the way her eyes lit up.
The certainty in her expression. The future she already saw so clearly.
And for a moment— He felt something shift.
Not guilt. Not quite. But something close to it.
Still—
It wasn't enough to anchor him.
Because even as Lyra stood in front of him, speaking of their future…
His thoughts betrayed him again.
Drifting. Returning. To someone who wasn't there.
Lyra stepped closer, her voice lowering slightly.
"This changes everything," she said.
Kaelen nodded once. "Yes."But his voice lacked conviction.
Lyra didn't hear it. Or perhaps—She chose not to.
Instead, she reached for his arm lightly, her touch confident, familiar.
"We'll make it something unforgettable," she said with quiet certainty.
Kaelen glanced at her hand for a brief moment.
Then back at her. "Of course."
The words came easily.
Lyra smiled again—bright, satisfied, unaware.
And as she continued speaking, already planning, already dreaming—
Kaelen stood there beside her.
Present. But not truly there.
Because somewhere beyond the palace walls…
Beyond duty. Beyond expectation—
His thoughts remained with Elara.
And no matter how much he tried to pull them back,
They refused to stay.
Else where in the city of Eldoria
The market was beginning to quiet, though a few merchants still called out half-heartedly, hoping for last-minute buyers. The scent of roasted grains and herbs lingered in the air, familiar and comforting.
Darin walked beside her, unusually quiet.
At least—for a moment.
Then he smirked. "You're avoiding him."
Elara didn't even look at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Darin let out a short laugh. "Oh, come on. You practically disappear every time Prince Kaelen shows up."
"I do not."
"You do," he insisted, nudging her slightly.
"The last time he came by, you hid in the storage tent like you were being hunted."
Elara stopped walking. "I was working."
Darin raised a brow. "For an hour?"
She shot him a look. "You're exaggerating."
"I'm observing," he corrected, clearly enjoying himself. "Very carefully."
Elara shook her head and resumed walking, a little faster this time. "I'm not avoiding him."
"Mm-hmm."
"I'm not," she repeated, more firmly.
Darin grinned. "Then why does it look like you are?"
Elara opened her mouth— Then closed it again.
She was obviously annoyed. Not because he was wrong.
But because she didn't have a good answer.
"Maybe," Darin added lightly, "you just don't want to admit it."
Elara exhaled sharply. "Or maybe you should mind your business."
Darin laughed. "Ah, so I'm right."
"You're impossible."
"And you're obvious."
Elara tried not to smile.
"Just keep walking," she muttered.
Darin only chuckled as they continued walking towards home.
By the time they reached the cottage, the sun had begun to dip lower, painting the sky in soft shades of gold and orange.
The moment they stepped inside—
Warmth greeted them. And the unmistakable scent of their mother's cooking.
Elara paused, breathing it in. "Soup." Her shoulders relaxed slightly.
"Finally," Darin said dramatically. "I thought I was going to starve."
"You say that every day," Serenya's voice came from inside.
She emerged from the small kitchen area, wiping her hands lightly on a cloth, a gentle smile on her face.
"And yet," she added, "you survive every time."
Alaric sat at the table already, glancing up as they entered. "You're late."
"Blame Elara," Darin said immediately.
Elara frowned. "What? Why me?"
"You walk too slow."
"I do not—"
"Both of you, sit," Alaric interrupted, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.
They both obeyed.
The table was simple, but the food was warm, and for a moment— Everything felt normal again. Bowls were passed. Soup was poured.
The quiet clinking of spoons filled the room.
It was peaceful.
Until— A firm knock sounded at the door.
Everyone stilled.
Darin glanced at Elara. "Expecting someone?"
"No."
Alaric stood, moving toward the door.
When he opened it, a man stood outside—dressed in royal colors.
A messenger. Immediately, the room shifted.
The messenger bowed slightly.
"A delivery from the palace." Alaric accepted the sealed envelope, his expression tightening just slightly.
"Thank you," he said. The messenger nodded and left without another word. Silence followed after the door was closed.
Elara's chest tightened.
Slowly, Alaric turned back to them, the envelope in his hand.
"What is it?" Darin asked.
Alaric broke the seal. His eyes scanned the contents.
Then— His brows lifted.
"An invitation," he said.
"To what?" Elara asked quietly.
Alaric looked up. "To the royal engagement."
The room fell still.
Darin blinked. "Wait… we're invited?"
Serenya looked just as surprised. "That's… unexpected."
Elara didn't speak. Her mind had already caught up.
Kaelen's engagement to Lyra.
Darin let out a small laugh of disbelief. "Since when do we get invited to things like that?"
Alaric shook his head slightly. "We don't."
Serenya looked at Elara thoughtfully and carefully.
"This must be becaus of… your entanglement with Prince Kaelen," she said quietly.
Elara's chest tightened. Of course it was.
"I'm not going." The words came out before she could stop them.
Everyone turned to her. "Elara—" Alaric began.
"I'm not going," she repeated, standing up.
Her voice wasn't loud.
But it was firm. "I don't belong there."
"That's not—" Darin started.
But Elara shook her head. "I'm not going," she said again.
And before anyone could respond—
She turned and hurried toward her room. Slamming the door behind her.
That night, the cottage was quiet.
Elara sat by the small window in her room, her knees drawn slightly toward her chest, her thoughts restless.
A soft knock broke the silence. "Elara?" Her mother's voice.
Elara hesitated. "…Come in."
The door opened slowly, and Serenya stepped inside, closing it quietly behind her.
For a moment, she said nothing. She simply looked at her daughter.
Then she moved closer, sitting beside her.
"You left dinner early," she said softly.
Elara stared ahead."I wasn't hungry."
Serenya didn't argue.
Instead, she followed her gaze toward the window.
"The engagement," she said after a moment. " is Prince Kealen the reason why you don't want to go."
Elara swallowed.
"No, it's because I don't belong there," she repeated quietly.
Serenya carefully studied her.
"Sometimes," she said gently, "we don't get to choose where we belong."
Elara's fingers tightened slightly.
"That doesn't mean I have to go where I'm not wanted."
Serenya's expression softened.
"Are you sure that's the real reason?"
Elara didn't answer. Because she wasn't sure anymore.
And that— That was the problem.
Serenya's gaze lingered on Elara, calm but searching.
"Is it because…" she began slowly, "you feel something for him?"
Elara froze. The question hit too close.
"What?" she said quickly, almost too quickly. "No."
Serenya didn't look convinced. "Elara—"
"We're just friends," Elara cut in, her voice firmer now. "That's all." The words came easily.
But something about them felt… incomplete.
Serenya tilted her head slightly, studying her.
"If that's the case," she said gently, "then why won't you show up for your friend on his big day?"
Elara's lips parted— Then closed again.
She didn't have an answer. Or maybe she avoided it.
But she wasn't ready to say it out loud.
"It's not that simple," she muttered, looking away.
Serenya watched her for a moment longer, her expression softening—but her eyes remained knowing.
"It rarely is," she said quietly.
Silence settled between them again. But this time, it felt heavier and honest.
Elara let out a slow breath, her shoulders sinking slightly.
"I just…" she started, then stopped.
How could she explain something she barely understood herself?
Serenya reached out, placing a gentle hand over hers.
"You don't have to understand everything right now," she said softly. "But running away from it won't make it easier."
Elara's gaze dropped to their hands. Her chest tightened.
"I'm not running," she said.
Serenya raised a brow slightly. "Elara."
She didn't respond. Because deep down— She knew.
Serenya straightened slightly, her tone shifting, gentle, but firm now. "You are going."
Elara looked up immediately. "Mother—"
"We are all going," Serenya continued, her voice clear, leaving no room for argument.
Elara frowned. "I don't—"
"You are going," Serenya repeated.
This time, there was no softness in it.
Elara stared at her, caught between frustration and disbelief.
"But I don't even have a dress," she said, grasping for something—anything.
Serenya didn't hesitate. "Don't worry about the dress," she replied calmly. "I'm working on that."
Elara blinked. "What?"
But Serenya was already standing.
The conversation, clearly, was over.
She moved toward the door, pausing only briefly before opening it.
"Elara," she added, glancing back at her.
There was something unreadable in her expression.
Something deeper than before.
"You might not understand it now…"
A small pause. "But some moments in life—"
Her voice softened slightly. "—you don't get to avoid them."
And with that, She left.
The door closed quietly behind her.
Elara sat there in silence, staring at nothing.