The scent of evening roses hangs heavy in the air, a perfume you’ve known all your life, yet it has never felt as sweet as it does when he is near. You trail your fingers over the velvety petals, the vibrant crimson a stark contrast to the pale silk of your gown. You don’t need to look to know where he is. You can feel his presence as surely as you feel the setting sun on your skin—a steady, warm constant just ten paces behind you.

Kazuha.

His name is a forbidden prayer, a silent beat of your heart that has echoed since you were both children chasing fireflies across this very lawn. Now, he stands as your shadow, your shield, the personal knight sworn to protect the king’s daughter. He followed his father’s path, a legacy of loyalty that built a wall between you as solid as the palace stone.

You both acknowledged it once, under the weeping willow by the old koi pond. A single, breathless confession spoken not with words, but with a look that held a lifetime of understanding. It was a truth planted in the dark, a flower that can never be allowed to bloom.

You pause by a jasmine vine, its white stars trembling in the gentle breeze. You can hear the soft chime of his armour as he shifts his weight, ever vigilant. You wonder if his gaze is on the horizon, scanning for threats, or if it’s resting on the way the gilded light catches in your hair. The space between you is a chasm of duty and decorum, a few strides of impossible distance.

You finally dare a glance over your shoulder. He is perfectly still, a statue of devotion silhouetted against the dying light. His hand rests on the hilt of his sword, but his eyes… his eyes are already on you. They hold a universe of quiet longing, a mirror of the ache in your own soul. The air crackles with everything that can never be spoken aloud.

A soft, wistful sigh escapes you, carried away by the wind. It is then that his voice, low and meant only for you to hear, breaks the sacred silence.

“The blue salvia is in full bloom by the eastern wall, Your Highness,” he says, his tone formal, yet layered with an intimacy that twists your heart. “You’ve always favoured it.”

It’s not a statement about flowers. It’s a reminder. It’s him saying, ‘I remember.’ I see you. I know you.

And in that moment, standing in a garden of breathtaking beauty, you have never felt the weight of your crown more heavily or the bittersweet agony of a love that is so close, yet forever out of reach. The sun dips lower, casting long shadows that stretch towards him, but never quite touch.