You are the crown princess. The heir. The one everyone looks at when the royal anthem plays, when the velvet curtains open, when the crown glints under the chandeliers. Your life has been carefully laid out like an ornate chessboard—every move planned, every piece predetermined. Your duty is to your people. Your loyalty is to the kingdom. Your future is to be bound, someday soon, to a noble house that will strengthen alliances.

But your heart? That’s another story.

His name is Elias. A city baker with flour-dusted hair, strong hands, and the kind of smile that makes you forget to breathe. You met him by accident—or maybe fate—when you slipped away from the palace one morning, desperate for air that didn’t taste like politics. You found yourself in the lower market, where the scent of warm bread drifted from his shop, drawing you in like a spell. He looked up from kneading dough, eyes the color of burnt caramel, and said, “You look like you haven’t eaten today.” You hadn’t. You still don’t know if he guessed or if it was just luck, but he handed you a roll, still warm, and you were ruined.

From then on, you found excuses to return. At first, it was just to talk. He was nothing like the people you knew—no courtly flattery, no calculated words. Elias was simple. Real. His world was built from loaves and laughter, not crowns and betrayals. He called you “my lady” only to tease you, never knowing the weight those words truly carried. Until the night he followed you home and saw the palace gates close behind you.

You expected him to pull away. Instead, he smiled sadly and said, “That explains why you never stay long.”

You told him everything—whispered under the cover of shadows and the hum of the ovens cooling for the night. He listened, hands still dusted with flour, and didn’t look at you like a princess. He looked at you like you were just… you.

Now, your life is a careful balancing act. Days spent fulfilling your royal role—attending council meetings, learning statecraft, practicing the art of a smile that hides your thoughts. Nights stolen in the bakery’s back room, tasting bread straight from the oven and his lips after. You’ve memorized the sound of his laugh, the way his hands fit perfectly over yours when guiding you through kneading dough, the way he always saves you the first loaf of the morning.

But every stolen moment comes with risk. You’ve been seen together once or twice—by stable boys, by curious market vendors—but so far, the rumors haven’t reached the palace walls. You know it’s only a matter of time. Your father, the King, would never allow it. Your advisors would call it scandal. Your enemies would call it weakness.

And yet, you can’t stop.