The Forbidden Love 𖥔 ͙ࣳ

˓𓄹 ࣪˖ 𝒜 𝒟𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒟𝑒𝓃𝒾𝒶𝓁 ˓𓄹 ࣪˖

THE SUN BATHED the palace gardens in a soft, golden light as Bridget wandered along the stone path, her hands lightly brushing the petals of blooming roses. The morning air was gentle, cool against her skin, but her thoughts were far from calm. No matter how much she tried to focus on the tranquility of the garden, her mind kept drifting back to the night before—the ball, the glimmering lights, the sound of laughter echoing through the ballroom. And him. 

It was nothing, she told herself for what felt like the hundredth time. A fleeting glance, a polite conversation—it meant nothing. Yet, as she stood beneath the towering trees, their leaves shimmering in the breeze, Bridget couldn't deny the restlessness stirring within her. Hook's face had been etched into her mind, and no matter how much she tried to push it away, it lingered like a stubborn shadow. 

"He's just a business partner of Father's," she whispered under her breath, more to herself than anyone else. The words were supposed to offer comfort, to remind her of the boundaries that existed between them. But instead, they left her with an unsettling ache she couldn't quite place. 

Bridget's gaze drifted to the horizon, where the sea sparkled beneath the morning light. Somewhere out there, his ship was docked, swaying gently in the harbor. She could almost imagine him standing on deck, overseeing his crew with that same calm, collected demeanor. For a moment, she wondered what he was doing—whether he was thinking of their brief encounter at all. But she quickly shook the thought away. Why should he?

Her footsteps slowed as she reached the edge of the garden, where the palace grounds overlooked the distant coastline. Bridget stood there for a long moment, her mind betraying her once again as images of Hook resurfaced, unbidden and unshakable. 

On his ship, the gentle sway of the ocean rocked Captain Hook as he stood on deck, his eyes fixed on the glittering palace in the distance. He had been restless since the ball, unable to shake the image of the princess from his mind. But it made no sense—why should she affect him? They had exchanged only a few words, a brief, polite conversation, and yet... there was something about her. 

He exhaled softly, his hands gripping the ship's railing. "Get ahold of yourself," he muttered under his breath, trying to dismiss the memory of her soft voice, the way her eyes had sparkled under the ballroom lights. She was just a woman—a beautiful one, yes, but nothing more than the daughter of his business partner. A royal. Off-limits in every way. 

Still, as much as he wanted to focus on his duties—on the deal with her father—he couldn't stop the way his mind kept wandering back to her. It was maddening, and the more he tried to suppress it, the more persistent the thoughts became. 

Hook clenched his jaw, determined to shake off the distraction. His responsibilities were clear, his priorities even clearer. This infatuation—if it could even be called that—would pass. It had to. 

࿐

Later that day, Bridget found herself walking through the bustling marketplace near the harbor, her sister Mirana at her side. The market was alive with the scent of fresh bread, the clinking of coins, and the lively chatter of merchants and customers alike. Normally, Bridget loved the vibrancy of it all, but today, she was distracted.

"Is something on your mind?" Mirana's voice broke through Bridget's thoughts as they strolled past a stall selling intricate glass figurines. 

Bridget shook her head, forcing a smile. "No, not really." 

Mirana shot her a sidelong glance, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. "You've been quiet since the ball last night. Did something happen?" 

"No, nothing happened," Bridget replied quickly, perhaps a little too quickly. She turned her attention to a display of flowers, pretending to be engrossed in the vibrant colors. 

"Uh-huh." Mirana wasn't convinced. "It wouldn't have anything to do with that charming captain you spoke with, would it?" 

Bridget's heart skipped, but she kept her expression neutral. "I barely spoke to him." 

"You barely spoke to him, but you've been thinking about him ever since," Mirana teased, nudging her sister playfully. "Come on, I saw the way you looked at him." 

Bridget sighed, glancing over at Mirana with a slight frown. "It was nothing. A polite conversation, that's all." 

"Polite conversation?" Mirana grinned, clearly enjoying this. "Is that what they're calling it now?" 

Rolling her eyes, Bridget turned away, but not before her gaze caught sight of a familiar figure across the market square. Hook stood near a merchant's stall, deep in conversation with one of the sellers. The sunlight glinted off his dark coat, and even from a distance, Bridget could sense the calm authority he exuded. 

She swallowed hard, quickly looking away before Mirana could notice. But, of course, her sister missed nothing. 

"Oh, I see," Mirana said, her voice full of amusement. "You just happened to notice him." 

"I wasn't—" Bridget started, but she stopped short as Hook's gaze shifted in their direction. For a brief moment, their eyes met across the crowd, and time seemed to still. Bridget's breath caught in her throat, but she quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing. 

Mirana watched the interaction with a knowing smile. "Still think it's nothing?"

Bridget didn't answer. Instead, she kept walking, hoping that if she moved fast enough, she could leave the strange, fluttering feeling in her chest behind. But even as she tried to focus on the sights and sounds around her, the memory of Hook's piercing blue eyes stayed with her. 

Not far behind them, Hook straightened as he watched the two sisters walk away. His conversation with the merchant had dissolved the moment he saw Bridget. She was as graceful as she had been at the ball, her presence drawing him in despite his better judgment. He had told himself it meant nothing—that she was just another royal, another woman in a world where he had no business getting involved with someone like her. But when their eyes met across the square, something shifted. 

For a split second, he had seen the same hesitation in her gaze, the same unspoken question that lingered in his own mind. But it didn't matter. It couldn't. 

With a sigh, Hook turned back to the merchant, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. But deep down, he knew that ignoring the pull between them was becoming more difficult with each passing day. 

Back at the palace, Bridget stood in her chambers, her back to the door as she stared out the window. The marketplace had been lively, but her thoughts had been elsewhere—on a certain captain who seemed to have an unshakable hold on her mind.

Behind her, Mirana entered the room, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "You're thinking about him again, aren't you?" 

Bridget didn't answer right away. Instead, she let out a soft sigh, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter. He's just Father's business associate." 

"And yet, you can't stop thinking about him," Mirana teased, sitting on the edge of Bridget's bed. "Come on, Bridget. It's obvious." 

Bridget turned to face her sister, frowning. "It's not like that. He's... he's a stranger." 

Mirana raised an eyebrow. "A stranger you've noticed an awful lot." 

Bridget sighed again, rubbing her temples. "You're impossible." 

"And you're hopeless," Mirana quipped. "But seriously, be careful. You don't want to get involved with someone who's... complicated." 

Bridget gave a small nod, though she couldn't shake the feeling that it was already too late.

࿐

—I might not post tommorow but I still have to see tho