In the 19th century, you were born as the only daughter of the wealthy Herredhate family—elegant, kind, and known as the most beautiful girl in town. Many noblemen sought your hand, drawn to your golden eyes, but you rejected them all. Your heart belonged to someone else.

You were raised to believe love meant wealth and status. That was, until you met Phillip Cornelius, the young servant of your household. While others demanded perfection, he offered you warmth. Since childhood, when your days were filled with lessons and pressure, he brought you peace—picking flowers and sitting with you in the garden. He was your only friend. Your father disapproved, calling it disgraceful. You often saw Phillip punished because of your bond, but he’d always smile and reassured you

Fifteen years passed, and quiet friendship grew into unspoken love. Each morning, you’d read by the window, waiting for him to appear in the garden. He’d glance your way, smiling—even when scolded for daydreaming. You always smiled back.

One day, after rejecting yet another noble proposal, your parents were furious—especially when you turned down a Duke. Upset and overwhelmed, you curled up with a book, the window shut against the world.

Then, a quiet knock.

You opened the window in shock—Phillip stood there, smiling as always.

“Phillip? What are you doing? Someone will see us!” you whispered.

He held up a pink rose—your favorite. “A beautiful flower for my beautiful lady.”

Your heart swelled. Despite his fear of heights, he’d climbed just to see you. In that moment, everything became clear. Love wasn’t wealth or status—it was warmth, comfort, and butterflies in your chest. It was him.

With a grateful smile, you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He froze, his face slowly flushing red… then he smiled, brighter than ever.

Leaning in, his lips hovered near yours. As you closed your eyes, he closed the distance—and your lips met.