She woke up breathless.
Her chest ached, her skin was cold, and her heart pounded like a drum. Arabella sat up in bed, eyes wide, surrounded by darkness. The dream had felt too real—too heavy.
Falling.
A voice whispering.
A push.
She shook her head.
Just nerves, she told herself.
Today was the celebration before her official coronation. After that, she would finally be named the crowned princess of Gardenia. Everyone expected her to smile, wave, and carry the future of the kingdom with grace.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror—every strand of hair perfectly arranged, every jewel in place—but the unease didn't fade.
Something felt wrong.
The palace shimmered with gold and light. Nobles filled the grand hall, their voices blending into a constant hum of expectation. The king and queen, her parents, sat proudly on their thrones. At the end of the corridor stood the High Priestess, preparing the ritual that would make Arabella more than a princess, she would become the next queen.
Arabella walked through the corridor, steps slow, heart faster than ever.
Everyone thought she was excited.
She wasn't.
Her chest was tight. Her thoughts, tangled.
Do I want this?
Every step felt heavier.
She doubted the crown.
She doubted the legacy.
She doubted if this life was ever hers to begin with.
The music began, joyful and bright. Arabella smiled out of duty, not desire. When no one was watching, she slipped away to the balcony for air.
"Let me guess..."
The voice behind her was calm, too calm.
Arabella turned and met the cold gaze of her cousin, Brietta.
"You didn't want the crown," Brietta said, stepping forward. "Didn't want this life. Not the family. Not the throne."
Arabella tensed. "Brietta—what are you—"
"It's okay," she whispered, grabbing Arabella's arm. "I'll fix it for you."
Arabella's eyes widened as her cousin's twisted smile glinted in the moonlight.
"What are you doing? Let go!"
But it was too late.
Brietta shoved her.
Arabella stumbled.
The world tilted.
And for one breathless second, time stood still.
I should have listened to the dream, she thought.
One tear.
One final breath.
Then—nothing.