The corridor was quiet, the kind of quiet that made your thoughts louder.
I moved down the steps slowly, each footfall echoing faintly through the marble halls. The King's words still lingered in my ears, pressing heavily against my chest. I should've gone to bed. Should've gone anywhere else but here, where the weight of what I hadn't said followed me like a shadow.
I was halfway down the grand staircase when I heard her.
"Rowy!"
I looked up, startled—only to see Evelynne standing barefoot at the top of the stairs, the hem of her silken robe fluttering as she hurried down toward me.
"You're still up," she said, her eyes shining with relief. "I was looking for you."
I straightened, trying to calm the ache in my chest. "Couldn't sleep."
"Neither could I," she said softly. Her hand found mine without hesitation. "Come on."
Before I could reply, she pulled me gently toward the side hall, down a narrow corridor only us ever used, past a half-cracked door and through the ivy-draped archway that led outside.
The night air met us like an old friend.
we stepped into the garden of flowers—our garden. Tucked behind the palace walls, untouched by servants or ceremony. Lanterns glowed low in the bushes, their golden light casting soft shadows. The same crooked tree still leaned toward the stone bench we used to fall asleep under as children. The moonlight touched the leaves, and for a moment, it all looked just as it had when we were little.
Evelynne let go of my hand only to sit down, curling her legs beneath her. "Do you remember when I made you swear this would always be ours?" she asked, smiling faintly.
I sat beside her, nodding. "You were seven. You threatened to exile me if I brought anyone else."
She laughed, the sound soft and aching. "I meant it."
The wind rustled the petals of the lilacs growing near the wall.
Evelynne looked at me, her voice quieter now. "You've been distant lately."
my gaze dropped to my hands. "I've just had a lot on my mind."
"I know something's wrong," she said gently. "You've been avoiding me in little ways. You stop talking halfway through a sentence. You smile, but it never reaches your eyes anymore."
I swallowed hard.
"I keep wondering if… I did something," she added, her voice cracking slightly. "If I said too much or held on too tight."
I looked at her then—really looked. She was so beautiful in the dim light. But more than that, she looked real. Soft. Vulnerable. Just like she used to when she was a child and scraped her knee and wouldn't cry unless I did first.
my throat tightened.
"It's not you, Evelynne," I said, my voice hoarse. "You're… you're the only thing that makes sense right now."
She searched my face. "Then what is it?"
I wanted to tell her. I wanted to say I'm leaving. I've joined the military. I might not come back. But the words refused to come. Not here. Not in this place that had only ever known peace.
Instead, I said the only thing I could manage. "I just needed to be with you tonight. That's all."
Her shoulders eased slightly. She leaned against me, her head resting on my shoulder like she'd done a thousand times before.
We stayed like that, surrounded by the hush of leaves and lantern light, two souls holding on to something too fragile to name.
And as I closed my eyes, I whispered a silent promise into the night
I love you, Evelynne. But I can't break your heart. Not tonight