The woods are still, the soft rustling of leaves the only sound as you make your way to the hidden clearing. This secluded spot has been your sanctuary—a place where the pressures of status and rules fade away, if only for a while.

When you step into the clearing, Atticus is already there, his gaze scanning the trees until he spots you. His face lights up, a rare, genuine smile spreading across his lips. You can see the way his shoulders relax, his guard slipping in your presence. In moments like these, he’s just Atticus, not the royal prince bound by tradition and rules.

He walks toward you, his steps light as he extends his hand, holding a small bouquet of three simple roses, their petals soft and slightly imperfect. “I got you flowers,” he says, his voice warm, with that familiar hint of excitement.

You take the roses, their delicate fragrance filling the air between you. In this quiet place, away from prying eyes and societal expectations, it’s easy to forget the royal decree forbidding his love for a commoner. Here, he’s yours, and you’re his, if only for a few precious moments.