Sacrifice || ENHYPEN FF

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 105

~helloooooo~

-Start of Chapter 105-

A/N's POV

Isla blinks.

For a moment, neither of them moves. Neither of them speaks.

They're just... staring.

Too long.

Her heart stumbles over itself, an odd, unfamiliar warmth unfurling in her chest. It's unsettling—the way the world suddenly feels smaller, quieter.

Jungwon's eyes widen as if just realizing something—realizing her.

And then, suddenly, he lets go.

The loss of his touch is abrupt, and Isla stumbles slightly, her balance tipping. A quiet gasp escapes her lips, but before she can fall, his hands move instinctively.

Warm. Steady. Firm, but gentle.

His fingers press lightly against her arms, just enough to steady her, just enough to stop her from falling. For a second—just a second—neither of them moves. His grip lingers, his hands curled around the fabric of her sleeves, grounding her.

Then, as quickly as he had reached for her, he pulls away.

"S-Sorry," he mutters.

Without thinking, Isla frowns. "You know how to apologize?"

Jungwon blinks, startled. His lips part slightly, as if he doesn't quite know how to respond.

The moment the words leave her mouth, realization crashes into her. Her breath catches. Oh no.

Her eyes widen, and before he can say anything, she bows deeply. "O-Oh! I'm sorry, Your Highness!" The words tumble out in a rush, her face burning. Without waiting for a response, she turns on her heel and practically flees, heart pounding so loudly she swears he can hear it.

Jungwon watches her retreat, unmoving.

Something lingers in the air between them, something he can't quite place. His hand flexes slightly, as if remembering the weight of her in his arms.

And then, without thinking—without even realizing—

His lips curve upward. Just slightly.

What a strange girl.

~~~~~~~

Isla's POV

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

What was I thinking? Speaking to him like that? Questioning him? The Crown Prince of the kingdom? I'm lucky he didn't take offense. I'm lucky he didn't—

I exhale sharply, pressing a hand against my chest as if that could somehow steady the wild beating beneath my ribs.

It meant nothing.

I repeat it in my head as I kneel in the dirt, my hands moving on their own, plucking weeds and trimming leaves. But no matter how much I will myself to forget, my thoughts keep straying back to him.

To the way his fingers had curled ever so slightly around my waist. To the way his voice—usually firm and unreadable—had wavered when he spoke.

I shake my head furiously, willing the memory away. This is ridiculous. He's the prince. I'm just a gardener. I shouldn't even be thinking about him.

But my body betrays me.

Without realizing, my hand drifts toward my arm, to the exact spot where he had held me, my fingers ghosting over the fabric of my sleeve. I linger there for a second too long before catching myself and snatching my hand away.