Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 25

Chapter 25: In the Garden Where the Stars Could Hear Us

Miexha's Point of View

Grandmama Sarah's voice still echoed in my head. "You already have a fiancé. Behave yourself."

Oh dear.

Because right now... I am holding Zatariel's hand.

Not my so-called fiancé's.

And not just holding it. Our fingers were laced together—softly, stubbornly, as if they had decided on their own that separating would be terribly inconvenient.

I knew this was improper.

Grandmama would certainly faint if she saw us like this.

And yet... my fingers refused to let go. My heart wanted even more.

We had slipped away to the old rose trellis in the garden of Wayne Mansion, far from the golden chandeliers of the ballroom and the cheerful noise of cousins and guests.

Out here, the winter air was quiet.

The snow shimmered faintly on the hedges. And for a moment, it felt as if the world had become very small.

He was looking at me again, like I was a constellation only he could see.

And I—Oh dear—I am melting.

"Do you think stars are flowers?" I asked suddenly.

The question escaped before I could stop it. I clasped my free hand over my mouth in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry... That sounded rather strange."

Zatariel grinned—that lazy, handsome grin that made my lungs forget their job.

"Only if you're one," he said softly. "Because you're glowing tonight."

My face burned.

"Oh—please stop," I whispered, hiding my face in my hands.

"You asked."

"I did not ask to be compared to celestial objects," I protested weakly.

"Well," he said thoughtfully, "stars are mostly hot gas."

I blinked. Huh?

He leaned closer, smiling mischievously. "Which reminds me of how warm my heart feels whenever I'm near you."

"Oh my gas." I gave his shoulder the gentlest shove, laughing softly.

But before I could pull away, he caught my hand again. And held it.

This was dangerous.

Grandmama had been very clear. I was supposed to enjoy my birthday.

Not disappear into the garden and fall into what was clearly a very forbidden teenage romance. But how was I supposed to resist?

He's warm and gentle. And when he looked at me like that... it felt as if even the moon might have a little crush on me.

We sat together on a vine-covered bench, our shoulders brushing.

I closed my eyes for a moment. Just so I could remember this feeling.

"You're quiet," he murmured after a while.

"I'm just..." I breathed softly, "happy."

The word felt strange on my tongue.

"I think this might be the first time I've ever truly felt like I'm living."