A Reign of Roses

A Startling Encounter

Anastasia's fingers brushed over the soft fabric of the gown she had just measured for. The seamstress was busy with another customer, leaving her to stand by herself in the quiet, fragrant shop. She had no real interest in the gown, and in truth, no interest in shopping at all. The entire process seemed like an exhausting routine—a parade of silk, satin, and lace—none of it offering any satisfaction.

She sighed, glancing at her reflection in the mirror, trying to picture herself in the dress, but her thoughts were far away. The relentless rounds of balls and social gatherings had drained her, and the quiet of this moment made her feel more acutely the weight of the life she had been born into.

As she stepped away from the mirror, the door to the shop opened with a soft chime. A man's voice followed, deep and familiar, though at first, she couldn't place it. She turned toward the door just as a figure entered, and her heart skipped a beat.

Lukas Rosenberg.

He paused just inside the doorway, and for a moment, their eyes locked, both caught off guard. Anastasia's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't expected to see him here, of all places. His presence seemed out of place, far removed from the social halls and ballrooms she was used to. He was wearing civilian clothes now, no uniform, just the dark, weathered coat of someone who had traveled far.

She almost didn't know what to say. She had thought of him more than she liked to admit, though she never imagined their next encounter would be like this, in the quiet of a shop where the world seemed to fade away.

Lukas's eyes softened as he recognized her, though he said nothing immediately. Instead, he took a slow step forward, breaking the silence. "Lady Anastasia," he said, his voice just low enough to sound personal, head bowed slightly in a form of respect.

Anastasia's heart raced as she searched for the words, but they didn't come easily. There were so many things she wanted to say, but the suddenness of the moment left her at a loss. She couldn't help but wonder: Why here? Why now?

"Mr. Rosenberg," she replied, her voice coming out more composed than she felt. She made an effort to smile, even if the gesture felt strained. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

He gave a small nod, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Nor I, but I was in the area and thought I might... look around." He glanced at the seamstress, who was still busy with her work. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

Just as he had been handsome from a distance, he was ethereal up close. His features were sharply defined yet somehow soft, as though he were sculpted from marble. His dark hair, slightly tousled, framed his face, giving him an air of effortless masculinity. His eyes, intense and dark, seemed to hold the weight of unspoken thoughts, as though they could pierce through her in a way no one else could. There was an undeniable pull to him, something that made her heart beat just a little faster and her mind spin with thoughts she wasn't quite ready to confront.

Anastasia's gaze lingered on him, noticing the subtle changes in him since their first meeting. The sharpness of his military bearing had softened, though there was still something about him that was undeniably different from the other men in her life. Perhaps it was the way his eyes always seemed to hold a secret or the way his presence quietly commanded attention.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The quiet of the shop seemed to stretch between them like an unspoken question.

Finally, Lukas broke the silence again, his voice steady. "I'm glad to see you well, Lady Anastasia. I hope you've been enjoying the festivities, though I suspect that's not entirely the case."

Anastasia gave a wry smile. "Not entirely," she replied, her gaze flicking to the gown on display. "But what choice does one have?"

Lukas looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded. "I suppose we all play our parts, don't we?"

Anastasia wasn't sure if he was speaking of social expectations or something deeper. Before she could think on it further, the seamstress returned, and Lukas stepped back, giving her space.

"I'll let you return to your measurements," he said, his tone warmer now. "But I wanted to say... It was good to see you again, outside of the balls of course."

Anastasia nodded, though her mind was still swirling with the encounter. As he turned to leave, she found herself watching him go, the strange pull of curiosity and unease welling up inside her once more.

He was gone as quickly as he had appeared, leaving her standing in the shop, lost in thought.

Where had he gone? Why was he in the same area as her, at the same time? Was it fate? She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to his absence than she had been told.

But then again, since when had she cared? After all, he was just another man, wasn't he? They were all the same—political pawns, as far as she could see. Yet something about Lukas lingered in her mind, a subtle mystery she couldn't quite solve.