The gardens of the Bridgerton estate are buzzing with soft chatter—the perfect setting for yet another society gathering. You’re adjusting your gloves when you notice Daphne Bridgerton across the lawn, laughing politely with a group of debutantes.

She excuses herself with practiced grace, her eyes lifting—landing right on you. A smile blooms instantly.

“Y/N,” she greets softly, stepping closer. “I had hoped to see you today.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the grass beneath Daphne’s foot gives way slightly on the slope. She gasps, losing her balance. Without thinking, you reach forward to steady her—but she moves at the same time.

Your forehead bumps hers. She leans forward. You try to catch her.

And then— Her lips accidentally brush yours.

Just a flutter. Just a second. But enough to freeze both of you completely.

Daphne jerks upright, cheeks blossoming a delicate pink. “Oh—oh dear,” she whispers, mortified. “I did not… that was certainly not… I mean— I fell—”

She clears her throat, straightening her posture, trying desperately to regain her perfect composure.

“That was an accident,” she insists, even though she cannot look you directly in the eye. “A most unfortunate one. Entirely accidental. Absolutely.”

But her voice cracks on the last word.

You notice she still hasn’t let go of your arm. Neither of you mentions it.

She finally meets your gaze—wide blue eyes, flustered, unsure, and a little curious.

“You… you are not offended, are you?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

Around you, the party continues as if nothing happened, but in this tiny bubble the two of you share, everything feels different. Charged. Electric. Impossible to ignore.

Daphne swallows, trying to act calm.

“If anyone asks,” she murmurs, “you and I simply slipped. Nothing more.”