Rain traced slow lines down the tall windows, blurring the city into something distant and unreachable. The private lounge was quiet except for the muted sound of water against glass and the steady rhythm of her breath as she tried not to say the wrong thing.

The first time she had seen him, she had been holding a tray she couldn’t afford to drop.

She remembered how her hands had trembled, how exhaustion had weighed heavier than the silverware. She hadn’t known who he was then only that he had noticed the way she struggled, stepped aside to make space instead of demanding it.

“Careful,” he had said softly, steadying the tray without touching her. Not a command. Not pity. Just concern.

That had been the moment something fragile inside her had lifted its head and dared to hope.

She realized too late that she had started measuring her days by him.

By the sound of his steps in the corridor. By whether his gloves were on or off. By the way his eyes searched for her first when he entered a room, even when he pretended not to.

So when she heard his name spoken softly by someone else too softly it felt like something inside her slipped out of place.

She found him in the hallway outside the council chamber, standing far too close to a woman dressed in certainty. The woman laughed, touched his arm like she was allowed to. Sebastian didn’t pull away.

He noticed her then.

And for a split second, he looked guilty.

That was what broke her.

Later, when the night had thinned and the palace felt hollow, she confronted him in the small sitting room they had once shared quiet conversations in back when she still believed silence meant safety.

“You didn’t tell me,” she said.

Sebastian closed the door behind them. “I didn’t think it was something I owed explanation for.”

The words stung because they were fair.

“Oh,” she nodded, swallowing hard. “Right. Because I don’t know what I am to you.”

He frowned. “You know I care.”

“I know you almost do,” she said. “And that’s worse.”

He stepped closer. “That’s not true.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m something you keep hidden between obligations?” Her voice cracked. “Why do I feel like I only exist in the spaces where no one is watching?”

Sebastian’s hands curled at his sides. “Because my life is watched.”

“And mine isn’t?” she snapped quietly. “I’m watched every time I walk into a room and don’t belong.”

She took a shaky breath. “The night we met you remember it, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“You looked at me like I mattered,” she whispered. “Not like a staff member. Not like a stranger. Just… me.”

Her eyes burned. “I built something around that look, Sebastian. I built hope.”

Pain flashed across his face. “I never meant to”

“I know,” she cut in. “That’s the problem. You didn’t mean anything. And I meant too much.”

Silence fell, heavy and unforgiving.

“I don’t want to be your quiet,” she said, voice barely holding. “I want to be chosen. And if you can’t do that if you won’t then please stop looking at me like I already are.”

He reached for her.

She stepped back.

That hurt him. She saw it. And that almost made her stay.

Almost.

“When you leave,” she said, tears finally falling, “I don’t want you wondering if I’m waiting. Because I won’t be.”

Sebastian’s voice broke for the first time. “I don’t want to lose you.”

She laughed through tears. “You already are. You just won’t say it out loud.”

She immediately walked out of the door, her heart broken..