"your life will be ruined."
"if i am with you, how could that be possible?"
this story is purely fiction, with all characters also being fictional.
all photos are not mine, credit to the respectful owners :)
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It was proving to be just that simple, at least through the King's eyes.
Over the last few weeks that would shortly turn into a month, Dallia was generally just a better daughter than she had ever been. She was kinder to her father, but he had his suspicions.
The main one being that she could see him growing weaker. It was her chance to pounce, but as she insisted on tidying the castle gardens and giving their cleaner the day off - he found her to be strangely generous.
As a young girl, she was always offering a helping hand. As she got older, and distracted, it seemed she lost her way a bit.
Although he would never know that she stalled in her efforts due to his complaints.
"Is that not why I pay Mrs Kim?" Dallia's father looked at her from his bed.
"Yes," the princess nodded slowly. How could she say that she simply needed a distraction from her breaking heart? How could she say that she wanted to be in the place she was happy with him? "But she has been working really hard, and I have nothing else to do."
The man sighed, shrugging ever so slightly.
"Please, father," it was rare that she ever asked him to do anything. "The shed needs to be emptied, the house should be spotless for when Mrs Kim's family move in."
"If they wish to move here," the king started. "Then I am certain she needn't mind cleaning the place beforehand."
Dallia bit her tongue, quite literally, as she glanced at her father. "You cannot be suggesting that-"
"Fine," he interrupted, his voice lowering at the end. "Do as you please. She has a son moving in, remember."
"Okay." The girl sighed with a forced smile, turning after she bowed to her father.
Her back turned, the man also found it difficult to hold his tongue. "I am sure Hyunjae's room would be perfect for him."
As the princess glanced around the room, her fathers words rang in her ear. This room would be perfect for another young man.
It felt bittersweet to be here. Whilst they never came here together, she could feel his presence as though he was still in the room.
Sitting upon his bed, her hand reached into her pocket.
"Do not think of me when the flowers wither," she read quietly. "Remember me when they bloom."
Her fingers traced over the writing, the page slightly sunken where the ink engraved the paper. Beside it, he had loosely drew a daisy.
She sighed, smiling at the thought of how effortless he seemed to be with everything he did. He was artistic that way. How she wished it was effortless to be with him.
