The manor’s sitting room was bathed in the glow of the late afternoon sun. You stood in the middle of the room, your hands clenched into fists at your sides as you faced your mother.

“I love him,” you said firmly, your voice steady but filled with emotion.

Your mother tilted her head. “You’re too young to understand love. It’s a fleeting feeling—nothing more than a childish infatuation.”

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding with frustration and the sting of her words. “Oh? And you do?” you snapped, your voice rising slightly. “You don’t look at Dad the way I look at Mattheo! You don’t laugh, you don’t play with Dad like I do with Mattheo! You don’t know anything about love!”

Your mother’s expression faltered for a moment—just a flicker of something unreadable in her usually impassive face. But you didn’t wait for her response.

You thought of Mattheo pulling you away from the crowded Hall, dragging you by the hand to the Astr0n0my Tower just so the two of you could sit under the stars. You thought of the way he’d crack a joke, making you giggle uncontrollably, even during the most stressful times. The way his eyes sparkled with mischief when he teased you, or softened with an unspoken tenderness when he thought no one else was looking.

You remembered how he’d hold you close when the world felt too overwhelming, whispering reassurances that made your chest ache with something so raw and beautiful you couldn’t describe it. How he made you feel seen, known, loved.

“You can tell me I’m young, you can tell me I’m naive, but don’t you dare tell me this isn’t real,” you continued, your voice cracking slightly. “Because I’ve never felt anything more real in my life.”

The room fell silent. Your mother stared at you, her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d crossed a line too far.

But you didn’t regret it. Not for a second.

Because loving Mattheo? That was worth every argument, every moment of doubt, and every risk.