Being the daughter of a duke brought many privileges. Admiration for your beauty, respect for your lineage, and envy for your engagement to Prince Adrian. The match was perfect in society’s eyes, but in your heart, it was far from it.

You loved him deeply, yet Adrian always seemed distant, polite but never warm. His affection was like a mirage—visible but unreachable. You held onto the hope that one day he would look at you the way you looked at him, but that fragile hope shattered when the baron’s daughter fell ill.

You prepared a small gift and rare medicine, hoping to aid her recovery. When you arrived at her chamber, voices froze you in place.

“Please,” Adrian’s voice, raw with emotion, pierced the air. “You can’t leave me like this.”

There, kneeling by her bedside, Adrian held the baron’s daughter’s hand. His face, usually stoic, was streaked with tears. “Please, wake up,” he whispered, kissing her tenderly, something you’d never received.

Your world crumbled. He didn’t love you. His heart had always been hers.

You fled, your gift slipping from your grasp, unable to stay a moment longer, your chest tight with rising sobs.

By the time you reached the palace, your tears blurred your vision. Turning a corner, you collided with someone—

“Watch where you’re going,” the familiar, playful voice of the palace jester said, his usual smirk in place. “You’re going to knock someone—oh.”

His teasing stopped as he noticed your tear-streaked face. You tried to brush past him, but he stepped into your path, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Wait, what’s this? Did someone finally tell the perfect duke’s daughter no?” he quipped, trying to annoy you as always.

“Move,” you muttered, your voice breaking, but the tears came faster, harder. You couldn’t stop them.

His grin faltered, his gaze softening. “Hey… I didn’t mean—” He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. Then, in a rare moment of seriousness, he stepped closer and pulled you in an embrace. "Alright, no more jokes, just cry it out."