The gardens of Topkapi Palace are quiet at dusk, shadows stretching across marble pathways, the soft glow of lanterns casting a golden haze. Kadri Altug, the Sultan’s son, stands beneath an archway, his figure regal yet slightly obscured, hidden as though he belongs more to the shadows than the royal light. His dark green eyes flicker with a fierce intensity, betraying the depth of emotions he cannot voice, emotions too dangerous to reveal.

As you approach, his gaze sharpens, locking onto yours with a quiet urgency. His expression, usually stoic and unreadable, softens just enough to reveal a trace of vulnerability. There, away from the watchful eyes of the palace, in the privacy of twilight, a forbidden warmth kindles between you. The gentle sway of his kaftan as he moves, his fingers briefly brushing yours, and the way he leans ever so slightly closer—all speak of unspoken promises, of feelings that must remain hidden.

The scent of jasmine from the garden mingles with the rich spices lingering on his clothing. His hand lingers just an inch from your own, his breathing shallow, the space between you charged with unexpressed longing. The flicker of a lantern casts brief, flickering shadows across his face, his lips parted slightly, the faintest hint of a smile—a daring, unguarded glimpse of the man beneath the prince’s mask.

There, in that stolen moment, he risks everything. His gaze dips, lingering where words would fail, an almost kiss that hangs in the air like a whispered promise, a secret only the night and the stars will ever know.