Coding Decoding | on going

t h i r t e e n

The grand dining hall of the Lehan palace shimmered with candlelight, casting a soft glow on the rich mahogany table laden with a feast fit for royalty. Ornate chandeliers hung overhead, their crystals sparkling like stars in the dim light, illuminating the faces of those gathered for the dinner. The air was filled with the rich aroma of roasted lamb, fragrant herbs, and sweet pastries, a stark contrast to the tension thrumming beneath the surface.

Lukas sat at the head of the table, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns of the tablecloth, his mind miles away from the opulence surrounding him. He glanced at Sofia, seated beside him, her laughter a light melody that cut through his troubled thoughts. She was beautiful, with soft, golden hair cascading in waves down her back and bright, doe-like eyes that sparkled with admiration every time she looked at him. But as he watched her, a familiar heaviness settled in his chest—a sense of inevitability that felt more like a chain than a bond.

Since childhood, the expectation had been woven into the fabric of their lives: Lukas and Sofia, the perfect couple destined to unite their families. She idolized him, her adoration blinding her to the reality of his feelings. It was as if everyone around them had scripted their future, and he was merely an actor playing his part. But in the theater of his mind, the stage was shifting, and he found himself drawn to a different character entirely.

With each laugh Sofia shared, Lukas felt the stirrings of guilt. He loved her, in a way that felt almost fraternal, like an older brother protecting a younger sister. She was sweet, caring, and undeniably charming, but the thought of her as his wife left him feeling trapped, suffocated by expectations and societal pressures. He admired her strength, her kindness, but he could never ignite the flame of desire he knew should accompany love.

He fought against the image of Isla that danced in his mind, refusing to let it overshadow the gentle warmth Sofia exuded. Their fleeting moments together—the brush of fingertips, the lingering glances—sent shivers down his spine, awakening something inside him he could not ignore. The memory of their eye contact, electric and charged, was a stark contrast to the softness of Sofia's affection.

“Lukas, dear, what happened to your lips?” Sofia’s voice broke through his reverie, concern knitting her brow as she leaned closer, her gaze searching. “You’re wincing. Are you alright?”

Lukas instinctively touched the split on his lip, the pain sharp enough to draw his attention, but as he did, a flood of memories rushed back—Isla’s fierce brown eyes glaring at him, her black curls cascading around her face as she punched him, and the way that moment had sent a jolt through him, igniting something buried deep within.

He winced, not just from the sting of the wound but from the electric thrill of recalling Isla’s strength. “It’s nothing, really,” he replied, trying to mask the tumult of feelings swirling in his chest. But his heart raced at the thought of her, the fierce determination in her stance, her independence a stark contrast to everything he felt trapped in.

Sofia tilted her head, her brow still furrowed, her innocence only amplifying his guilt. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” Her voice was soft, warm, but it only intensified his conflict. "Did you get into a fight of any sorts?"

This grabbed enough attention from their families. His father, throwing daggers with his eyes patiently enquired, "Were you in a fight, Luke?"

Defiant and annoyed Lukas, raised his head to look at the voice, forcing a smile, "Negative."

He forced a smile, but inside, he felt the weight of her gaze bearing down on him. “I’m fine, Sofia. Thanks for asking.”

As dinner progressed, the conversations flowed, light-hearted and trivial. Topics of the engagement preparations dominated, their families reminiscing about childhood memories and shared aspirations for the future. Lukas forced himself to engage, nodding and smiling as they recounted stories that felt far removed from the reality he faced. Yet, every shared laugh felt like a reminder of the shackles tightening around him, and he found himself growing increasingly restless.

He couldn’t shake the thought of Isla—the way she had looked at him, defiant and strong, her sharp wit and intelligence igniting a desire to know her beyond their fleeting encounters. His heart raced at the memory of her punch, a reminder of her fierce independence. With Sofia, there was no challenge, no spark of intrigue; she was a constant, predictable presence in his life, but with Isla, he felt alive. God, that girl.

“Lukas?” Sofia’s voice cut through his thoughts again, her brow furrowed with concern. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

He forced a smile, though it felt hollow. “I’m fine, Sofia. Just… thinking.” He meant to reassure her, but as he spoke, he felt a pang of guilt pierce through him, twisting his insides. How could he explain the tempest raging within him when all she saw was the perfect prince beside her?

As the dinner came to a close, the atmosphere shifted, the joyous chatter fading into a more serious tone. Herald stood up, raising his glass for a toast, his voice resonating with authority and warmth. “To our future! May the union between Lehan and Chillary strengthen our kingdoms and bring prosperity for generations to come!”

Everyone cheered, glasses clinking, and Lukas forced himself to join in. The prospect of marrying Sofia hung in the air like a dark cloud, the cheers feeling more like chains than celebrations.

As the evening wore on, tension simmered just beneath the surface, waiting for an opportunity to explode. Lukas excused himself from the table, needing air, needing space to think. He wandered into the dimly lit garden outside, the cool night air brushing against his skin, a stark contrast to the suffocating warmth of the dining hall.

The moonlight illuminated the path ahead, and as he walked, the sounds of laughter faded behind him. He could still hear Sofia’s laughter ringing in his ears, sweet and innocent, a stark reminder of what he felt he could not give her.

“Lukas!” The familiar voice of his father broke through the tranquility, a shadow emerging from the garden’s edge. Christian Black approached him, his face a mask of disappointment, anger brewing behind his eyes.

“Father, I haven't been —”

“You need to understand the importance of this engagement,” Christian interrupted, his voice cold and authoritative. “It is not just about you and Sofia; it’s about our families, our legacy. You will marry her.”

Lukas felt his temper flare, frustration boiling over. “I can’t marry her, Father! I don’t love her! I can’t spend my life with someone I see as a sister!”

Christian’s eyes narrowed, disappointment etched deep in his features. “You think you have a choice in this? Your duty is to your family, to the throne! You need to step up, Lukas!”

The words hit him like a physical blow, the weight of expectation suffocating. “I can’t live a lie, Father. I won’t. I love someone else.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, laden with unspoken truths. Christian’s expression darkened, his disappointment palpable. “Love isn’t a luxury you can afford, son. It’s about power, unity, and sacrifice. You must understand that.”

Lukas felt the last vestiges of his restraint crumble, frustration giving way to rebellion. “I refuse to marry someone I don’t love! I will not spend my life pretending.”

His father’s gaze hardened, disappointment giving way to anger. “You will marry her, Lukas. You will do your duty, whether you like it or not.”

As the tension reached its peak, Lukas knew the conversation had shifted irrevocably. He could feel the chasm widening between him and his father, a divide forged by duty and desire. “I’ll never be the man you want me to be,” he spat, turning on his heel, the weight of his father’s expectations a burden he could no longer bear.

He walked away, the night air cold against his skin, feeling the distance growing not just between him and his father, but also between the life he was expected to lead and the one he longed for. The shadows of duty loomed over him, but for the first time, he felt a flicker of hope—the kind that ignited at the thought of Isla, fierce and untamed, a promise of something more.