The hum of the bakery greeted Rody as it always did-soft, warm, and comforting. But tonight, there was an undercurrent of tension thick enough to cut through the sweetness of sugar and cinnamon that lingered in the air. The usually bustling little shop was empty, save for Rody and Vincent, and the silence between them spoke volumes that neither of them dared to.
Rody had been slipping out of the palace almost every evening to visit this tiny corner of the kingdom, evading his royal duties just to spend a few hours here. At first, he told himself it was the bread-Vincent's renowned, impeccable craftsmanship, the perfect excuse for any royal craving. But after months of these visits, Rody knew it had never been about the bread.
It was about Vincent.
The baker stood at the counter, his back turned, kneading dough with such force that Rody could see the tension in his shoulders. Vincent worked silently, a far cry from the usual light banter Rody enjoyed coaxing out of him. The prince leaned against the counter, his elbows resting on the worn wood as he watched Vincent's hands move rhythmically, pressing and folding the dough.
"You're quiet tonight," Rody finally said, trying to keep his voice light, though he could feel the weight in the air between them.
Vincent didn't look up, his hands continuing their methodical work. "There's nothing to say."
Rody felt the knot in his stomach tighten. Vincent had been distant for days now, ever since the news of his engagement had broken. It had been an arranged affair, political, nothing more-his betrothal to Princess Manon of a neighboring kingdom was meant to strengthen alliances, ensure stability. It wasn't love. But Vincent was acting as if it was the end of something they hadn't even begun.
"Come on," Rody said, attempting a half-hearted smile. "You know you can talk to me, Vincent. Whatever it is, just say it."
Vincent's hands stilled for the briefest of moments before continuing, the tension in his movements unmistakable. "It doesn't matter."
Rody frowned, pushing away from the counter. "Of course, it matters. You matter to me."
There was a crack in the armor then, subtle but there, as Vincent's shoulders stiffened. Rody stepped around the counter, moving closer, unable to stay in the distance Vincent always tried to maintain between them. He reached out, hesitant, his hand hovering near Vincent's arm.
"Don't do that," Vincent said suddenly, his voice low, barely a whisper.
"Do what?" Rody asked, his hand dropping to his side, though he didn't move away. His heart was pounding now, his chest tightening with something he wasn't quite ready to name.
"Act like..." Vincent swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he turned his gaze to the dough. "Like there's something here that can last."
Rody blinked, his breath catching in his throat. Vincent's words were like a blow, but there was a tremor beneath them-a vulnerability Rody hadn't seen before. "Why can't it?"
Vincent finally looked at him, dark eyes flashing with a mixture of frustration and something deeper, something raw. "Because you're the crown prince, Rody. You're engaged to a princess. You're destined to marry and rule and... and I'm just a baker."
Rody's throat tightened, his chest aching. "You think that matters to me?"
"It should," Vincent snapped, his voice sharp, but the anger in it was brittle, like glass on the verge of shattering. "It matters to everyone else. It matters to your father, your kingdom. You're bound to her now, Rody, whether you like it or not."
Rody flinched at the harsh truth in Vincent's words, but something inside him rebelled, twisted with defiance. "I didn't choose this," he said, his voice shaking with anger he hadn't realized was building inside him. "I didn't choose her."
