The palace garden shimmered under the late afternoon sun, its glass sculptures casting rainbow shadows across the marble paths. Elara wandered alone, her thoughts tangled like the vines curling around the trellises.
She hadn't meant to come here.
But her feet had led her.
And now she stood frozen behind a column, watching Kael and Seraphina.
They were laughing.
Not loudly. Not joyfully. But softly—like they used to, in the story Elara had written. Seraphina's hand brushed Kael's arm. He didn't pull away. His expression, usually carved from ice, had softened.
Elara's chest tightened.
She wasn't supposed to care.
She wasn't supposed to feel anything.
But she did.
---
Kael turned.
His eyes met hers.
Elara didn't move.
He didn't either.
Then—slowly, deliberately—he leaned closer to Seraphina and said something that made her smile. He reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
Elara's stomach dropped.
It was a gesture she had written.
A gesture she had imagined.
A gesture she had once dreamed someone would do to her.
She turned to leave.
But Kael called out.
"Lady Lyria."
She froze.
He walked toward her, leaving Seraphina behind.
His steps were slow. Controlled.
His eyes gleamed with something sharp.
"You're early," he said.
"I wasn't looking for you."
"Then why are you watching?"
Elara swallowed. "I wasn't."
Kael stepped closer. "Jealousy doesn't suit you."
"I'm not jealous."
He leaned in, voice low. "Then why do you look like you're about to cry?"
Elara's breath caught.
She didn't answer.
Because she didn't know.
---
That night, Elara sat at her desk, staring at the flickering candle.
She thought of Kael's voice. His eyes. His touch.
She thought of Seraphina's smile. Her grace. Her ease.
And then it hit her.
In the real world, before the truck, before the story swallowed her whole—she had imagined Kael as her perfect boyfriend. Cold but loyal. Harsh but protective. A prince with a broken heart and a sharp tongue.
And Seraphina?
Seraphina had always been her stand-in. Her mirror. Her idealized self.
She hadn't just written a story.
She had written a fantasy.
And now she was living it.
And falling for him.
---
The next morning,the palace ballroom was quiet, save for the soft echo of Kael's boots against the marble floor.
Elara stood near the window, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, trying to breathe through the storm building in her chest. She hadn't meant to follow him. She hadn't meant to watch him with Seraphina. And she certainly hadn't meant to feel anything.
But she had.
And Kael had seen it.
Now he stood before her, arms crossed, eyes like sharpened steel.
"You followed me," he said flatly.
"I didn't—"
"Don't lie to me."
Elara flinched. "I wasn't trying to—"
"You were watching us. Again."
"I just—"
"What?" he snapped. "Wanted to see if I'd kiss her? Wanted to see if I'd betray you?"
"No!" she cried. "I didn't—Kael, I didn't mean to—"
"You didn't mean to what?" he cut in, voice rising. "Didn't mean to ruin everything? Didn't mean to wedge yourself between us like a snake?"
Elara's throat tightened. "That's not fair."
Kael laughed, bitter and sharp. "Fair? You think this is about fairness? You said yes to me. You took her place. You knew what you were doing."
"I didn't know I'd feel—" She stopped herself.
But it was too late.
Kael's eyes darkened. "Feel what?"
Elara looked away. "Nothing."
"Say it."
"I can't."
"Say it!"
"I think I love you!" she shouted, the words ripping from her like a wound.
Silence.
Kael stared at her, stunned.
Then his face twisted.
"You think this is love?" he said, voice low and venomous. "You think this is some kind of storybook fantasy? You don't love me. You love the idea of me. You love the power. The crown. The drama."
"That's not true—"
"You imagined yourself into my life," he hissed. "You stole her future. You played us both."
"I didn't mean to—"
"You did," he snapped. "You wanted to break us. And now you're pretending to be the victim."
"I'm not pretending—"
"You're pathetic."
The words hit harder than any blade.
Elara's breath caught.
Kael stepped closer, towering over her.
"You want to know what I see when I look at you?" he said. "A liar. A manipulator. A girl who doesn't belong."
Tears welled in her eyes.
But she refused to let them fall.
Not here.
Not in front of him.
---
That evening, the royal court gathered in the Grand Hall for a diplomatic banquet. Nobles from across the realm filled the room, dressed in their finest silks and jewels. Elara stood beside Kael, her hand resting lightly on his arm, her smile frozen in place.
She hadn't spoken to him since the confrontation.
He hadn't looked at her once.
Until now.
Kael raised his goblet.
"A toast," he said, voice carrying across the hall. "To alliances forged in fire. And to those who wear crowns they never earned."
The room went still.
Elara's heart stopped.
Kael turned to her, his smile razor-sharp.
"To Lady Lyria Vale," he said. "May she learn to play her part before the kingdom burns for it."
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
Elara stood frozen, her cheeks burning, her throat tight.
She wanted to run.
But she didn't.
She stood tall.
She smiled.
And she swallowed the pain like poison.
---