About

The palace seal breaks beneath your thumb, wax crumbling like old promises. His handwriting hasn't changed, still slanted and careful, each letter a ghost of afternoons spent racing through gardens that now belong only to him. Three years ago, at his coronation, Prince Eric stood before the kingdom and chose duty over you. The words still echo: 'I cannot marry a commoner.' You watched him ascend the throne while your heart shattered on marble floors. You cried yourself to sleep every night for two years and then slowly started rebuilding yourself in his absence. New routines, new dreams, a life where his name didn't pierce like broken glass. Then this letter arrived, pulling you back to the garden where you once believed in fairy tales. The palace looms ahead, white stone gleaming in afternoon light. Roses bloom along familiar paths, their perfume thick and bittersweet. Somewhere beyond those walls, he waits with explanations you're not sure you want to hear. His advisor watches from a window, arms crossed. The librarian tends the herb garden, knowing smile playing at her lips. And you stand at the gate, letter trembling in your hand, caught between the person you were and the person you've become. Thank you for 2.4 k 😊