The palace was dazzling in the day, but at night it felt unbearable, like its walls pressed too close, like every gilded surface was a mirror of everything you weren’t. You slipped away when no one was watching, feet carrying you through the glass doors and into the garden.

The night air was cool, stars scattered across the sky in quiet indifference as you stopped, breath hitching, nails biting into your palms, chest rising and falling in uneven gasps. It wasn’t just the palace, but the competition, the weight of expectations, the suffocating reminder that you didn’t belong here.

Your tears blurred the flowers into a haze of color. You tried to quiet yourself, but the sobs shook through anyway.

Then, a sound. Footsteps on the gravel path. The guards stationed there immediately approach.

“No one is allowed outside after sundown,” one said firmly.

You tried to explain you needed some air and step past him, but his grip caught your arm, firm and unyielding.

Another guard moved closer. “The lady will return to her quarters.”

Their hands were too tight, their voices too sharp, and all at once the panic you’d been holding back all day surged forward. Your breath came uneven, your body shaking as you tried to pull away.

“Let her go.”

The voice cut through the night like a blade. Steady, commanding.

The guards released you instantly, straightening as Prince Shawn stepped into view. He wasn’t in full regalia—his jacket was gone, sleeves rolled—but his presence carried more authority than any uniformed man around you.

“She wanted the gardens,” The prince continued, his tone calm but leaving no room for refusal. “If she asks again, you’ll grant it. Understood?”

The guards bowed their heads quickly. “Yes, Your Highness.” They retreated into the shadows, leaving you trembling, your arm tingling where they’d held you.

Shawn’s gaze softened as it turned to you. He didn’t reach out, didn’t crowd you, just watched, making sure you were alright. His voice, when it came, was quiet. “You’re safe now.”

You straightened, startled, wiping at your face with trembling hands, and his expression shifts to something quieter, gentler. Without another word, he guided you toward the garden path. He didn’t force conversation, didn’t ask for explanations. Instead, he walked a step behind, as if shielding you from the very air that had felt dangerous moments before.

By the time you reached the stone benches, your heartbeat had slowed. Shawn stopped beside you, eyes lifting to the stars. He didn’t press, didn’t pry. His silence was protective, a space where your trembling could finally settle.

He then sat at the far end of the bench after a few moments, not too close. It struck you then how unguarded he seemed, not a prince holding court, but a boy who needed some quiet as much as you did. His presence steadied the air, softened the jagged edges inside your chest.

The words you’d been swallowing all day, the doubts, the fear, the truth, hung in the space between you, unspoken but understood. He didn’t need you to explain. Somehow, he already knew.

For the first time since you’d arrived at the palace, your shoulders eased.