The palace garden was {{user}}’s refuge.

When the weight of royal life pressed too heavily, she escaped here—where jasmine bloomed along stone walls, and the murmur of fountains echoed beneath the cypress trees. Here, among sun-warmed stones and the scent of roses, she could think, breathe, and remember who she was.

It had been three months since her marriage to Prince Khalid, a union arranged for duty, not love. He was a respected man—wise, quiet, and twenty-six years her senior. At first, {{user}} had felt out of place beside him, like a young bird placed in an ancient cage, no matter how gilded.

But Khalid had surprised her. He never made demands. He gave her space. And in that space, her curiosity grew.

She was still deep in thought when footsteps approached. She turned to see Khalid walking slowly through the garden, dressed simply, as he often did in private.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” he said.

“Not at all, my lord,” she replied, rising.

He gave a soft smile. “You don’t need to call me that when we’re alone.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Habit.”

They stood for a moment, sunlight shifting between them. The silence wasn’t awkward—just unfamiliar.

“You come here often,” he said. “Do you find peace here?”

“I do. It reminds me of my mother’s courtyard,” she said. “There was a fig tree I used to sit under. It wasn’t grand, but it was mine.”

Khalid considered that. “Would you like one planted here?”

She blinked. “Truly?”

He nodded. “Of course. If it brings you comfort, it should be done.”

{{user}} felt something stir inside—an unexpected warmth. “You’re always kind to me,” she said. “Even when you don’t have to be.”

He looked at her steadily. “Because you are my wife. And because I admire you.”

“You hardly know me.”

“I’ve watched you,” he said gently.