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Chapter 22 - Fragile heart

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Late afternoon.

The sun is beginning to dip, casting golden light through the lace curtains of Evelynne's chambers.

The room is quiet. Her tea dress has been replaced with a soft lavender gown, her hair loosely braided down her shoulder.

Three ornate boxes rested on the low velvet bench at the foot of my bed — untouched since they had been brought up hours earlier.

I had ignored them during the rest of tea, during the walk back through the palace, even as Mira and Serah whispered excitedly about Rye's declaration in the halls.

Now I stood alone, one hand brushing lightly over the silk ribbon of the first.

My fingertips trembled slightly.

I didn't know why it felt so hard. They were just gifts.

Thoughtful, maybe even beautiful. But somehow… they felt like locks being placed around me.

I sat down slowly and untied the first ribbon. The box opened with a soft sigh of expensive hinges.

Inside lay a folded length of pale sapphire silk — the kind used only in royal courts.

It shimmered like water under candlelight. Beneath it, a matching pair of gloves, delicately embroidered with golden lilies.

I touched them but didn't lift them.

I could appreciate the craftsmanship.

The beauty.

But it didn't warm me.

I opened the second box.

Books.

Three of them. Hand-bound in pressed leather, one with my initials carved in gold.

I ran my fingers over the title of the top one:

"Echoes of a Noble Heart."

Inside the cover, a handwritten message in Rye's script:

For the one who carries both grace and fire in equal measure. May your days be filled with the poetry you inspire in others.

I exhaled softly and closed the cover.

The final box was smaller. A velvet case tied in a single twist of crimson silk.

I hesitated. Then opened it.

Inside lay a gold locket, the oval shape delicate, almost fragile.

I gently lifted it by the chain and clicked it open.

On one side, a tiny painted portrait of me — my expression serene, my hair styled in a way I hadn't worn in years.

On the other… was a mirror.

No portrait of him. Just a reflection of myself.

I blinked, lips parting.

That was what it felt like, wasn't it?

Like being admired.

Adored.

Even adored too much.

But not known.

I closed the locket carefully and placed it back in the box.

Then I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, hands gripping the edge of the bench.

My head bowed slightly, loose strands of hair falling into my face.

So much beauty. So much attention.

And yet, it wasn't what my heart had been waiting for.

Not a silk dress.

Not a poem.

Just a reply.

A letter.

Something simple. From someone who knew me without needing me to wear a crown.

But there was nothing.

Just silence.

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