Night had fallen over Versailles with solemn elegance. The palace lights flickered like captive stars, and the gardens—usually vibrant—were cloaked in expectant silence. The sky, heavy since dusk, finally gave in: a fine rain began to fall, as if the world wished to cry without making a sound.

Amy walked alone among the hedges, her brocade dress dragging droplets as though the fabric itself sighed. She had fled the ballroom after a heated argument with her family—words wrapped in reproach and duties that didn’t belong to her. She needed air, even if that air came soaked.

She carried no umbrella. She didn’t care. The rain felt more honest than any courtly conversation.

From a distance, Oscar watched. She had followed her steps unseen, as she often did. Not out of duty, but something deeper, more dangerous: love. The kind of love that couldn’t be spoken aloud without unraveling the world.

When she saw her stop beneath a stone pavilion, her hair damp and her eyes closed, she knew he couldn’t remain in the shadows.

She approached silently, her dark cape billowing like a protective shadow. Upon reaching her, she wrapped it around her without a word. Amy opened her eyes, surprised but not afraid. She recognized her instantly.

"Are you following me?" she whispered, her smile tinged with sadness.

"I’m watching over you." Oscar replied, her gaze unwavering.

The silence between them was comfortable, as if the rain had washed away everything that didn’t need saying. Amy leaned gently against her shoulder, and Oscar allowed the moment to stretch, knowing that when the storm ceased, so would their freedom.

"What if we don’t go back?" she asked, gazing at the gray horizon.

Oscar didn’t answer. She simply tightened the cape around her, as if could shield her from the entire world.