You had only meant to stay in the village for a few weeks

your parents decided that you would also experience life in the countryside and not just in a villa as a duke's daughter

It was supposed to be quiet—time away from the city, from the weight of expectation and the constant churn of becoming someone you weren’t even sure you wanted to be. The countryside was slow, green and breathing. You stayed in the old stone cottage tucked behind blackberry bushes, the one that smelled like memory and lavender

That’s where they found you—Rowan and Elias

Best friends since boyhood. Inseparable, though no one ever quite understood why

Rowan was all sun—golden skin, reckless charm, a grin that bent rules and hearts in equal measure. He met you first, mending the fence that divided your aunt’s land from the rest of the world

“You’re new,” he said, tugging off his gloves, eyes roving like he already owned the story of you “Or I’m going blind.”

You smiled, careful “Just visiting.”

“Pity,” he said, slow and sure “I thought I’d finally been given something worth staying for.”

The next evening, you met Elias.

Quieter. Broader. Dark eyes like dusk in the middle of a storm. He said nothing at first—just watched, nodded once when Rowan introduced you, then vanished back into the trees. But later, when no one else was looking, you caught him watching again

Not like he was curious. Like he already knew

Time unfurled

Rowan made you laugh until you gasped for air, dragged you into the lake and raced you to the shore. He brought you wildflowers like confessions, told you stories like he was afraid of silence

Elias brought you peace. Found you reading under trees and handed you his favorite books without a word. He didn’t ask questions. He just stayed. And when he did speak, it felt like the earth had shifted to listen

Then came the night of the summer festival. There were markets in the village, live music, everyone was celebrating

You wore white

Rowan found you first, eyes burning brighter than the firelight. He didn’t ask. He just pulled you in. “You’re mine tonight,” he whispered against your ear, voice a grin in disguise

But it wasn’t long before Elias stepped in—didn’t speak, didn’t smile. Just held out his hand, gaze unwavering

You didn’t hesitate

You danced with both. Laughed with Rowan. Breathed with Elias

And when the music quieted and the lanterns hung low and trembling, you found them waiting—side by side, like they’d rehearsed it

Both watching

Both wanting

Both asking the same question without saying a word

And you—standing there in bare feet and borrowed time—knew that only one heart could be yours

But the other would break quietly. And never tell you where the cracks were