The grand hall of the Whitmore estate glittered under the light of countless chandeliers. Tables were adorned with golden accents, fresh bouquets of daisies and roses, and an endless spread of delicacies.

  A small gathering of close friends and family had come to celebrate Elara’s sixteenth birthday—Naomi, Oliver, and, of course, Prince Sebastian. Alongside them were sons and daughters of noble families, invited more for political courtesy than genuine friendship.

  Elara had long since mastered the art of smiling through the evening, but at least, for now, she was enjoying herself.

  As she took a brief step away from the center of attention, Naomi found her, a playful smirk on her lips as she held two glasses of sparkling cider. “Sneaking off already?” she teased, handing one to Elara.

  Elara chuckled as she accepted the drink. “Not sneaking. Just taking a moment to breathe.”

  Naomi clinked her glass lightly against Elara’s before taking a sip. “Well, you’ve certainly given everyone something to talk about. That dress, the dancing—" she wiggled her brows, “—and let’s not forget a certain prince who hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night.”

  Elara rolled her eyes, though a faint blush crept onto her cheeks. “You’re imagining things.”

  “Oh, am I?” Naomi nudged her playfully. “Then explain why Prince Sebastian looks like he’s strategizing a way to steal you away from this conversation.”

  Elara glanced toward where Sebastian stood, speaking with Oliver, but his gaze flickered toward her for the briefest moment before he quickly looked away. Her stomach fluttered despite herself.

  Naomi laughed at her reaction. “See? I knew it.”

  Shaking her head, Elara sighed. “Enough about me. What about you? I saw you dancing with Lord Everett earlier. Was that voluntary, or did your parents push you into it?”

  Naomi groaned dramatically. “It was absolutely not voluntary. The man has the grace of a drunken goose. My toes will never recover.”

  Elara giggled. “Perhaps next time, you should let him step on Adrian’s feet instead.”

  Naomi snorted into her drink. “Now that’s a brilliant idea. Your fiancé-to-be could use a little humbling.”

  Elara’s smile faltered slightly at the mention of Adrian, but before Naomi could notice, she masked it with another sip of her cider. For now, at least, she wanted to enjoy this moment with her friend—before the weight of expectations came crashing down once again.

  Just as Naomi was about to tease her further, a smooth voice cut through their conversation.

  “Lady Elara,” Lord Adrian’s voice carried an unmistakable confidence as he approached them. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but I believe it is time for our dance.”

  Elara turned, her expression carefully composed. “Lord Adrian,” she greeted, inclining her head slightly. “Of course.”

  Naomi shot her a knowing look before stepping aside, barely suppressing a smirk. “Try not to step on his toes,” she whispered mischievously as Elara passed her.

  Elara sighed but allowed Adrian to take her hand, leading her toward the dance floor. The moment of peace she had shared with Naomi was over, replaced by the ever-present expectations that came with being Lady Elara Whitmore.

  ***

  As the orchestra swelled into a graceful waltz, she found herself on the dance floor with her soon-to-be fiancé. The crowd parted as Lord Adrian guided her to the center, their presence drawing the attention of many eager spectators. The warmth of countless gazes settled upon them, but none made her as uncomfortable as the man before her.

  “Lady Elara, you look stunning tonight,” Adrian remarked, his eyes sweeping over her form, lingering just a second too long.

  She gave him a polite smile, her posture poised despite the unease creeping up her spine. “Thank you, Lord Adrian.”

  He placed a firm hand on her waist, pulling her closer than necessary. The sudden proximity made her breath hitch, but she maintained her composure, refusing to let her discomfort show.

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  The dance began. Adrian led with smooth precision, his movements practiced and confident, but there was a possessiveness in the way he guided her—a silent reminder that he believed this arrangement was already sealed. The scent of expensive cologne clung to him, a touch overwhelming, as they twirled across the marble floor.

  “You dance beautifully,” Adrian murmured, his voice low, as if savoring the moment.

  Elara forced a pleasant expression. “I’ve had many lessons.”

  “As expected of my future wife,” he said, the words rolling off his tongue with certainty. “A refined lady, intelligent and graceful. You will make a perfect Duchess.”

  Her grip on his shoulder tightened slightly. Future wife. Duchess. The titles felt suffocating, like shackles waiting to be locked in place.

  “You speak as if it is already decided,” she countered, tilting her chin slightly as she met his gaze.

  Adrian’s lips curled into a smirk. “Isn’t it?”

  He twirled her then, making her gown flare around them. The momentary movement gave her the space to take a breath, though she could still feel the weight of his confidence pressing down on her. As they came back together, he leaned in ever so slightly, his next words meant only for her ears.

  “You may resist all you like, Lady Elara, but in the end, our union is inevitable.”

  Elara’s stomach twisted, but she kept her expression serene. If there was one thing she had learned, it was how to conceal her true emotions beneath a well-crafted mask.

  The music neared its final notes. Adrian’s hold remained firm as he dipped her into a low finish, his grip lingering as he brought her upright once more. But just as they stepped back into the final movement, Elara subtly shifted her foot—and deliberately stepped on his.

  Adrian stiffened, a sharp inhale barely masked behind his composed expression. A flicker of irritation flashed in his eyes, but he quickly masked it, forcing a tight-lipped smile. Elara, on the other hand, merely tilted her head, feigning innocence as she whispered, "Oh, my apologies, my lord. I must be out of practice."

  He let out a short chuckle, though there was no humor in it. "Quite alright, my lady. I trust that, with time, you will grow accustomed to our dances."

  Applause erupted around them, but Elara barely heard it. Her heart pounded, not from the dance, but from the suffocating realization that this was far from over.

  ***

  After several dances with other guests, and before anyone could approach her, Elara took the opportunity to excuse herself and found solitude on the balcony.

  She finally let out a sigh of relief as she leaned against the banister, taking in the serene view of the garden bathed in moonlight. Fireflies hovered lazily over the bushes, their glow flickering like tiny stars against the darkened landscape. A moment passed before her vision blurred, tears welling in her eyes before sliding down her cheeks one after another.

  She had been holding it in for a while, and now, alone on the balcony, she could no longer contain it. Elara clasped a hand over her mouth, muffling the sobs threatening to escape. If anyone found her like this, she wouldn’t know what to say.

  ‘I’m so exhausted…’

  Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted when someone behind her cleared their throat. Elara swirled around, blinking rapidly. Despite her blurry vision, she could make out a familiar silhouette.

  “Lady Elara,” the voice whispered as he stepped closer.

  “Don’t come any closer, Your Highness,” she sobbed, quickly turning away to wipe her tears.

  Sebastian paid no heed to her request. Instead, he draped his coat over her shoulders. “It’s a cold night, Elara.”

  Only now did she realize she was shivering—not from crying, but from the chilled night breeze. Sebastian remained silent beside her for a moment, simply listening.

  “I was looking for you,” he admitted. “I was wondering where the star of the night had gone. I didn’t expect to find you alone out here in the cold.”

  “Why were you looking for me, Your Highness?” Elara finally turned to face him, her voice quieter now.

  Sebastian flinched at the sight of her puffy, tear-streaked eyes. She looked fragile in this moment, stripped of the usual grace she carried. And yet, despite the ache in his chest, a chuckle escaped him.

  His sudden amusement left Elara bewildered. She watched as Prince Sebastian tried to suppress his laughter. “I’m glad my suffering is funny to you, Your Highness,” she huffed, tugging his coat tighter around her body.

  “It is freezing out here.”

  Sebastian shook his head, the smile still lingering on his lips. “Forgive me. I just never expected to see you like this.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small velvet pouch. “Actually, I came to give you something.”

  Elara furrowed her brows as he opened the pouch, revealing a delicate bracelet adorned with tiny daisy charms and sapphire beads. The soft silver chain glimmered under the moonlight, intricate yet simple.

  “A gift for your birthday,” Sebastian said, taking her hand gently and fastening the bracelet around her wrist. “I figured daisies must be your favorite flower.”

  Elara stared at the bracelet, her fingers brushing over the tiny charms. “How did you figure that out?” she asked softly.

  Sebastian smirked. “You wear daisy embroidery on your dresses, and sometimes, I notice the small daisy ornaments in your hair.”

  Her heart gave an unexpected flutter. She hadn’t realized he had paid such close attention. “It’s beautiful… thank you,” she murmured.

  Sebastian leaned against the banister beside her, watching her admire the bracelet. “You looked like you needed something to lift your spirits.”

  Elara exhaled, her earlier distress still lingering. “It’s just… everything tonight. The people, the expectations, the feeling of being trapped in a life I can’t control.”

  Sebastian glanced at her, his expression turning thoughtful. “I know that feeling well.”

  She turned to him, curious. “Do you?”

  He let out a quiet chuckle. “Every day, I’m reminded of what’s expected of me. Who I must be, what I must do. My life is already planned, written out in careful strokes. But… that doesn’t mean I don’t find ways to make my own choices.”

  Elara tilted her head. “And how do you do that?”

  Sebastian smiled. “By taking moments like these. By doing things not because I’m told to, but because I want to.” His gaze softened as he looked at her. “Like giving you that bracelet.”

  Elara held his gaze, warmth settling in her chest. “It means a lot,” she admitted. “Truly.”

  They stood there for a while, the cold breeze wrapping around them, but the weight in Elara’s heart felt lighter now. Sebastian’s presence had that effect—like a quiet refuge amidst the storm.

  “Happy birthday, Elara,” he whispered.

  And for the first time that night, she truly smiled.

  Author’s Note