The Capulets and the Montagues—sworn enemies bound by a bitter past. Yet fate had other plans: you, a Capulet, and Romeo, a Montague.

From the quiet of the night, Romeo looked up at your tower, where you sat beneath the silver glow of the moon, your face aglow with a light no star could rival.

Hidden among the thick bushes in your family’s garden, Romeo carefully peeked through the leaves, just enough to steal a glimpse of you. His heart stilled at the sight.

He gripped the branches tightly, holding back the desperate urge to climb to you, to press a kiss to the lips he now longed for more than life itself. Rosaline was nothing but a shadow now—forgotten in the warmth of your presence.

With a breathless sigh and a soft, lovestruck smile, he whispered to the night, “One day, my beloved.”

You would be his. No feud, no name, no legacy of hate could keep him from the one his heart had chosen.