Chapter 4

...Perspective: Vanessa...

Vanessa cried a lot when she was a child. She cried until she hiccupped, until the air fled her small chest and it hurt. She never understood why everything she did was wrong, why every gesture was never enough. Why nothing about her was ever enough. She tried so hard to please. Tried to be good. But for some cruel reason, being herself was never sufficient.

Everything was given to Ana — love, pride, attention — while for Vanessa, not even a chance was left. Not a glance. Not a trace of recognition. Not a single you did well. Just silence. Just absence. She stopped crying the day she realized it only made things worse. Tears were just another failure. Another proof that something inside her was broken. From then on, she refused to shed even a single drop.

People could hurt her, yes. But they didn’t need to know. They didn’t deserve that kind of power.

But that night… she wanted to cry. She wanted to, so badly. She was alone, standing at the entrance of a stunning garden, enclosed like a greenhouse — a garden where no comfort bloomed. Seven hours away from a loveless wedding. Seven hours from being delivered to a fate she didn’t choose. And there was no one. No one to hold her hand, to tell her everything would be alright, to ensure her last hours of freedom were peaceful.

She asked herself, for the thousandth time: Was she really such a terrible person?

But when she looked back… there was no memory that stood out. Nothing that said: here is Vanessa. Only a silent existence, overshadowed by Ana. Just a face among thousands. She wasn’t terrible. She was just… forgettable. And who cared about what was easy to forget?

Still, deep down, she longed for… something. Someone.

She pushed the foolish thought aside. Hope was a luxury. And luxuries, like everything else, were not meant for her.

Vanessa stepped into the Castle Garden, choosing the third path to the center — the one she had memorized earlier that morning. The darkness made it hard to see, but her memory and the moon’s pale light were enough. Letting her feet lead the way, she took refuge in a favorite daydream: the version of a life she would never have.

Vanessa entering her husband’s office. The ring glinting subtly on her finger. Both of them exhausted but happy to be home. Her husband setting aside his paperwork just to kiss her — a kiss too long to be casual, warmed by silent promises. Laughing together when they realized one kiss would never be enough.

She forced the dream away. The pain was unbearable. Fantasizing about the impossible brought her nothing — only made the fall more cruel. Just a few more hours. Maybe in the next life, she would manage to be better. Maybe.

She thought of Ana. Where was she now? For a fleeting moment, she wished something horrible would happen to the selfish, miserable woman. She deserved it. She deserved so much—

That’s when someone grabbed her.

Vanessa screamed, but the sound died in her throat the moment she was pushed against the stone wall of the garden. The impact was cold, hard, real. Everything around them was shadow. The moonlight didn’t reach the hidden corner where he kept her trapped.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, her voice trembling despite the controlled tone.

The man laughed. A deep, rough sound that ran down her spine like a dark shiver. Like something forbidden. Vanessa had been pushed before. But she had never felt like this.

“Usually,” he said, “people ask ‘Who are you?’ or ‘How dare you?’. You only asked what I’m doing. Interesting.”

“I doubt your identity would change what’s happening,” she replied. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest, but something inside her — something primal — told her he didn’t intend to hurt her. Not physically, at least.

“As for yours… if you wanted to introduce yourself, you wouldn’t have grabbed me and shoved me against a wall. Do you do this often with strangers?”

“Depends,” he said, a smile in his voice. “Threatening women, maybe. But you… no. Women like you are rare.”

“Like me?” she whispered. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

Silence. Dense. Tense. Words have claws, but silence… silence can bleed.

Then finally, he said:

“I heard you. And His Highness. Naveen, to be exact.”

Vanessa flinched. Her face burned. Gods spare her… he had heard. Heard her humiliation. The rejection. The certainty that, in the prince’s eyes, she wasn’t even worth a proper goodbye.

“You should be relieved, little butterfly,” he said, his tone cutting through her like a blade.

She was a little duchess. Even if only for a few hours. A flicker of pride lit in her chest. Few bore the blood of the god of light. Few could even dream of such a title. She might be married off tomorrow, a weak and unworthy replacement, but for these hours… she was someone. She was a little duchess. No one could take that from her.

“Relieved?” she echoed.

“Your fiancé turned out to be a coward. And no woman should marry a coward.”

“He’s not… a coward.” Her voice was low, but firm. “That’s not it.”

He laughed again. That deep laugh that made her feel too much.

“You, little butterfly, may be many things. But a coward? You are not. I saw you in the throne room. I hear you now. There’s fire in you. Even when they try to extinguish it.”

Vanessa wanted to know what he had seen. If he truly saw her. But the fear of the answer kept her quiet.

“You still haven’t explained why you’re pinning me against a wall,” she whispered, though her voice no longer held accusation. It carried something more dangerous. Something between fascination and surrender.

He leaned closer, his voice rougher, lower.

“I believe there’s one last request that needs to be fulfilled, little butterfly.”

And before she could understand, before she could protect herself…

His mouth claimed hers.

And with it, everything Vanessa believed to be true about herself began to crumble.

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