It was a full, bright day. Sunlight flooded the palace, warm and calm, the kind of day that felt peaceful whether you wanted it or not. You were in your bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, guitar resting against your thigh, fingers moving lazily over the strings. The window was open. Air, birds, quiet.

That’s when you noticed Kakhi outside.

She was in the garden just below your window, kneeling in the grass. Her dress brushed the ground as she leaned forward, carefully picking flowers one by one, placing them into a small bundle. She looked focused, gentle—too gentle.

A smirk pulled at your lips. An idea sparked.

You set the guitar aside and slipped outside, moving quietly, circling behind her. Kakhi didn’t hear you. She was still kneeling when you suddenly leaned in, wrapped your arm around her bundle of flowers, and tugged.

“Hey—!” she gasped.

You laughed, teasing, lifting the flowers out of her hands. Before she could react, you tossed them aside. They scattered across the stone path. You stepped forward and crushed them under your foot, petals tearing, stems snapping.

Kakhi froze.

Her eyes widened. She inhaled sharply, shock flashing across her face—then something else. Anger. Hurt. Something breaking.

She stood up fast.

Her hand moved before she could stop herself.

Slap.

The sound cracked through the garden.

For a split second, everything went silent.

You stared at her, stunned—then your face hardened. Anger rushed in, hot and sharp. You started insulting her, words spilling out, cruel, thoughtless, loud. Kakhi’s hands trembled at her sides. She didn’t answer. Her eyes dropped, breath uneven.

Then footsteps.

Heavy. Controlled.

You turned—and saw Queen Serena.

She stood there with two guards, her expression cold, eyes sharp like knives. She didn’t ask what happened. She didn’t raise her voice.

She walked straight to you, grabbed your wrist hard enough to hurt, and leaned in slightly.

“That’s enough.”

Her grip tightened. She glanced at Kakhi only once—briefly, unreadable—then looked back at you with pure authority.

“Come,” she said. “We’re going to see your father.”

She turned, guards falling in behind her, dragging you along without another word. Kakhi remained in the garden, standing alone among the crushed flowers, sunlight still warm, as if nothing had happened.