As he did every afternoon, Abel had invited Rosalia to take a walk through the institute's gardens. The sun was setting with a soft glow, tinting the treetops gold, and the fresh air carried with it the scent of newly opened flowers. However, the Prince could not enjoy any of it. His heart beat so loudly that he feared Rosalia would hear it, and anxiety kept his hands sweaty.
Today would be different. He had made a decision: he would declare himself. After so many failed attempts to show her his feelings with details and attention, he understood that he had to do it with clear words. He remembered the advice of his friends, especially Diego, who had told him that chocolates and walks were not enough; one had to speak from the heart.
Even so, fear haunted him. If Rosalia rejected him, what would happen to the friendship they had built? The idea of losing her was like a dagger stabbing into his chest.
For her part, Rosalia walked beside him with a distracted gaze. She had her hands clasped in front of her, and her expression, which was usually cheerful and dreamy, seemed lost in distant thoughts. Abel noticed it immediately.
What he did not know was that that morning Rosalia had spoken with Valeria, her best friend, about those strange symptoms that had been tormenting her for months.
FLASHBACK
"Valeria, I think something is very wrong with me."
The young heiress of the Delacroix duchy looked at her in alarm. "What are you saying, Rosalia? Do not scare me, do you feel ill? Do you want me to go with you to the infirmary?"
"No… I have already gone three times this week, and they find nothing. The doctors say I am perfectly fine, but I know something is not right."
"Then tell me, what exactly do you feel?"
Rosalia looked down, restless. The fear on her face was so evident that Valeria also began to feel distressed. Finally, Rosalia confessed:
"I feel a tingling in my stomach every time Abel is near. And when I see him talking to other ladies, with that smile of his, my chest hurts… as if I am lacking air."
Valeria observed her in silence for a few seconds, with furrowed brows. Then she sighed and, suddenly, gave her a small tap on the arm.
"Is this a joke? You just gave me a deathly fright. I thought you had something serious."
Rosalia was agape. "And is it not? Does it seem normal to you to feel like you cannot breathe? Or to have an upset stomach every time someone approaches you?"
The seriousness in Rosalia's voice made Valeria try to maintain her composure, but it was impossible. Laughter broke from her lips, light and spontaneous.
"Hahaha… oh, Rosalia, forgive me. You are a unique case. You are not ill. You are in love."
"In love?" Rosalia repeated, incredulous.
"Of course. What you feel are the symptoms of love."
Rosalia's eyes went as wide as saucers. In all the romantic novels she had read, they spoke of love at first sight, of racing hearts, of burning glances… but they never mentioned pressure in the chest or upset stomachs.
Valeria smiled tenderly seeing her friend's confusion.
"Tell me, do you get nervous when he is near? Do you feel warmth and safety by his side? Do you miss him when you do not see him? Do you blush when he stares at you?"
Rosalia looked at her in surprise. "How… how do you know that?"
"Because I went through the same thing with Diego. At first it was like that, although now we are in another stage… one that I prefer not to tell you about yet so as not to ruin your innocence."
Rosalia lowered her head, her cheeks burning.
"Then… what do I do? And what if it is only me who feels this?"
"Listen to me well," Valeria said, taking her hands. "Conquer him. You are beautiful, Rosalia, and I assure you that Abel is not by your side only as a friend. He never stops looking at you from behind. Believe me, that boy feels the same."
"You think so?"
"I am sure. But remember something: nothing ventured, nothing gained."
END OF FLASHBACK
The memory made Rosalia walk even more distractedly, replaying every one of Valeria's words. Abel watched her with a certain unease until he could take it no more and spoke:
"Is something the matter, Rosalia?" he asked softly.
"Yes… I mean, no… well, yes," she stammered, nervous.
He furrowed his brow, intrigued. "You can tell me anything."
Rosalia took a deep breath, gathering courage. She knew she had to be honest.
"I want to ask you something, Abel… do you like me? And I do not mean as a friend. I mean… do you think I am pretty?"
The Prince looked at her in surprise, but his answer came without hesitation:
"Of course I do. Rosalia, I like you. I have been trying to show it to you for a long time, but it seemed you did not want to notice."
The confession left Rosalia speechless. She felt as if the ground disappeared beneath her feet. How could she have been so blind? How did she not notice that Abel, with every detail, with every gesture, was declaring his love to her?
"It is not that I did not see it," she finally whispered, "it is that I thought you did it because… because we were friends. But… I like you too, Abel. Today I spoke with Valeria and she helped me understand what I feel."
The words were a balm for the Prince. A wide and luminous smile appeared on his face. Happiness overwhelmed him completely, so much so that, without thinking, he wrapped his arms around Rosalia and held her close to him.
Rosalia, with her face burning and her heart racing, returned the hug. The warmth of his body against hers conveyed a security she had never felt.
In that instant, Abel remembered Diego's advice: every time he declared himself to Valeria, he stole a kiss. A spark of boldness ignited inside him. Before doubt could stop him, he tilted his face and placed his lips upon Rosalia's.
The world stopped.
Rosalia went rigid for an instant, surprised. It was her first kiss, and the sensation overwhelmed her. The touch was soft, tender, yet charged with an intensity that made her shiver. Her heart beat so hard it seemed to want to escape her chest. Heat took over her cheeks, her skin prickled, and an electric current ran all the way down her back.
Abel, on the other hand, did not want to let her go. He had dreamed of this moment so many times that now that he had it, he was not willing to let it go.
The kiss lasted for long seconds, perhaps minutes, until both had to pull apart to breathe. Rosalia looked at him with shining eyes, still trembling, while Abel gently stroked her cheek.
"Now you understand," he whispered, "what I feel for you."
Rosalia nodded, unable to articulate a word. For the first time, she understood that what she thought was an illness was nothing more than the birth of love.
And as the institute's gardens swayed with the evening breeze, both realized that their story was only just beginning.