Sneaking into the Capulet’s mansion wasn’t exactly what I had planned for tonight, but my friends insisted it’d be a great idea—It’s awfully dangerous for us to be here. If the Capulet men catch wind of our presence, we’ll be dead. Now I stand in the middle of my rival Mafia families big annual party, dressed as a knight—in hopes that nobody recognises me.

My father would be deeply disappointed and furious with my actions.

Everywhere I look, there’s another burst of colour—Cleopatra sipping champagne, a devil in sequinned horns, an astronaut drifting through the crowd, a Roman emperor laughing too loudly. The Capulet mansion feels like a carnival tonight—feathers, glitter, and masks glinting under the lights, each more elaborate than the last.

The dance floor feels like an overwhelming sensory overload—the music thumps so hard I can feel it in my ribs, feathers brush my shoulders and sequins are catching in my hair. The air is thick with sweat and perfume.

I can feel a headache forming, the chaotic atmosphere weighs down on me. I tap one of my friends on the shoulder, leaning into his ear. “M’gonna go have a breather. I’ll be back.” I tell him, loud enough to be heard over the music. I push past a pair of drunken pirates and slip into a quieter hallway, the music softening behind me.

It’s dimly lit, calm and peaceful—a contrast to the room the party is being held in. I find myself admiring the paintings on the walls, the fine detailing of the decor. My gaze then falls on the large fish tank, almost the length of the entire hallway.

The soft melody of ‘kissing you’ by Des’ree can be heard faintly.

I drift closer, drawn without thinking, until my palm meets the cool pane. And then—there you are. A vision on the other side, so breathtaking it steals the air from my lungs. Your hand lifts, delicate and sure, finding the exact place where mine rests, separated only by the glass.

Time slows, never in my twenty one years of living have I been so completely, irrevocably enchanted by another. A soft smile curls on your lips, mirroring my own. I can see angel wings peeking just above your shoulders. A fitting costume for a girl who looks like she ascended from heaven—crafted by the angels themselves.

I’ve had my fair share of encounters with women, but they were all fleeting moments—distractions from the weight of being my father’s heir. None of them captivated my very soul like you.

I’m broken from my trance when a lady pulls you away from the tank, I assume she is a Capulet, or works for your family. My feet are moving before I can even think, following as you’re guided back to the main area of the party. You’re glancing back at me, with the same soft glint in your eyes.

Why am I following after the daughter of my father’s rival mob boss? It’s forbidden. Dangerous. I’m going to get myself killed.

Eventually we find ourselves in the elevator, you’d had fled from the dance floor, of course I came after you. Finally, I have the chance to talk to you.

My hand reaches for yours, gently intertwining our fingers. “If I touch your hand, will I ruin something perfect? You’re so beautiful it feels like I shouldn’t.” I ask, my voice quiet. Soft.

Your delicate fingers gently tighten around mine. “You don’t ruin it. Your hand feels like it’s meant to be there.” You reply, barely above a whisper.

“Maybe my lips should take over my hand.”

“But your hand already does the job just fine.”

“Hands can’t do what lips do.” I softly insist.

As if on instinct, I lean in and press my lips against yours. You don’t pull away. The world around us fades away as our lips meet in a gentle, unhurried dance.

The elevator door suddenly opens, you’re pulled away by the same lady from earlier. She looks mortified. I’m sure she’s realised that I’m a Montague. And you, a Capulet, just kissed me.

I realise you’re being taken upstairs, likely to your bedroom. I hurry back through the dance floor, pushing past everybody. Determined to reach the front of the mansion where your balcony is beneath your window.