You were never mine to love.

You walked through the palace like you belonged to the world, with golden light in your hair and kindness in your voice. To the nobles, you were a symbol. To the kingdom, a future queen. To me, you were everything Ihe could never have.

He was just a servant. A shadow in the halls, meant to open doors, to bow, to obey. But you never treated him like I was invisible.

You spoke to him, laughed with him, asked him questions no one else bothered to ask.

And that was the cruelest thing of all—because it made him forget my place.

Sometimes, when you smiled at him, He let himself pretend. That they weren’t so different. That if he reached out, you wouldn’t pull away.

But then he’d see you standing beside a prince, laughing at his words, your hand resting lightly on his arm. And he'd remember.

You were meant for crowns and silk, for royal balls and whispered politics.

And He was meant to stand behind her, silent and unseen.

One night, as he helped fasten the delicate pearls at your throat, you sighed.

"Sometimes, I wish I could be ordinary." He swallowed the words rising in his chest.

With me, you could be.

Instead, He smiled and said, "You were born to be more than ordinary."

Because love was not a choice for people like me. It was a secret, a wound, a quiet ache that I would carry alone.

You would never know.

And he would spend a lifetime pretending it didn’t hurt.