The events of the previous night lingered in my mind, vivid and unrelenting. Yet, to my surprise, I felt no regret—only a nervous flutter in my chest. I was scared, yes, but it had been worth it.
I liked him. That much was becoming clear. But admitting it—to myself, to him, or worse, to my parents—was an entirely different matter. Even if I could summon the courage to tell my family, I couldn't do so without knowing how Heeseung felt.
"Should I ask him about us today?" I mused aloud, staring at the canopy of my bed.
Sleep had evaded me entirely, his image haunting every waking moment. His words, his touch, his presence—it all played on a loop in my mind.
By the time the first rays of dawn crept across the horizon, painting the world in soft gold, I decided it was futile to stay in bed. With a sigh, I threw off the covers and rose, the chill of the morning air doing little to shake off the haze of my thoughts. I had barely slept during the night as the thoughts of a certain someone kept me up.
After all the thoughts and possibilities that could enter my head, I came to a conclusion that I fancied the prince.
As I went through the motions of getting ready, my heart and mind waged a quiet war. I fancied him—there was no denying that now. But alongside that realization came a gnawing doubt: What if I was just another fleeting moment for him? What if this wasn't as real for him as it was for me?
I shook my head, as though physically dispelling the intrusive thoughts. There was no use in tormenting myself with what-ifs.
Once dressed, I decided to distract myself in the studio beside the library. It was my sanctuary, yet another one, a place where the world—and its complications—faded away with every stroke of my brush. If clarity wouldn't come on its own, perhaps it would find me there, in the swirl of colors and silence.
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(The outfit cuz it's pretty)
The king and queen had no idea that I found solace in the quiet corners of the castle. If the queen ever discovered my passion for painting, she wouldn't approve—she had always disliked the hobby, though I never understood why.
I entered the room, setting up my canvas, brushes, and paints, uncertain of what to create. I mixed black and blue to form a deep, dark hue, then splashed it across the canvas, blending in other shades to evoke the night sky.
Hours passed, and slowly the rooftop of the castle took shape, dotted with faint light grey spots to resemble the lights from the ball held the previous night.
I had skipped breakfast, choosing to spend my time here in silence.
I reached for the black paint again to sketch two figures on the rooftop: one gazing at the meteors falling across the sky, shining brighter than the lights below; the other, looking at the first figure, their eyes filled with quiet admiration.
