The soft rustle of silk stirred the air.
Irene's eyelids fluttered open.
The scent of blooming roses drifted through her senses, sweet yet suffocating. She found herself lying in an ornate chamber, unfamiliar yet eerily nostalgic-the familiar style of the duchy's estate.
Her body felt light, her limbs oddly unburdened. Rising slowly, she looked around in confusion.
Where am I?
Golden light filtered through the sheer curtains. The room was dressed in white lilies, the scent heavy, ceremonial. Her gaze moved toward the dressing table-and froze.
A woman sat there, facing the mirror.
Clad in a wedding gown.
Lace flowed like water down her back. Her veil shimmered under the soft glow. Her shoulders were poised, still... almost lifeless.
Irene's heart pounded. She stepped forward, slow and cautious, her breath catching in her throat.
The mirror didn't lie.
The woman reflected in its glass... was her.
Same face. Same eyes.
But those eyes... they were hollow.
Lifeless.
No joy. No glow. Just dull grief behind painted lashes. A bride not walking toward a new beginning-but being marched to her end.
Her voice trembled as she whispered, "No... this isn't right..."
She reached out-her fingertips brushing the woman's shoulder.
The reflection blinked.
Turned.
"Your highness?" a familiar voice asked gently.
It was Libby, her old handmaid, eyes filled with worry and warmth.
"Are you alright?" she asked softly.
The bride....Dacia....turned away from the mirror. "I'm fine," she replied hollowly.
A lie.
Libby smiled, though sadness flickered behind it. "It's time. They're waiting."
The world shifted.
Dacia now sat in a carriage, white petals floating in the air as the people outside cheered.
A wedding. A royal one.
The carriage door opened, and a stately man extended his hand to her. The duke, her father. Stern, unreadable, playing his role with dignity. She took his hand, her gloves trembling against his.
Each step down the aisle felt like stone shackles dragging her forward.
The temple bells rang in the distance. Candles flickered as if hesitant to burn. The air was heavy with celebration-yet her chest tightened with every step.
At the end of the aisle stood Crown Prince Nickolai, regal in appearance but visibly burdened. His jaw was clenched, his posture stiff, as if holding back a storm within.
As Priest Michael began the ceremonial prayers, Dacia could hardly hear.
Her ears filled with the thunder of her heart.
Her eyes drifted to the prince.
And his were not on her.
They were on Lucas.
The holy priest stood tall amongst the nobles, yet his face betrayed him.
Pain.
Longing.
YOU ARE READING
When Beauty Destroys The BL World
RomansaIrene was just a normal girl, waiting for her graduation day to set up her new journey. Her dream is to be a doctor and a good daughter for her single father. But all of that change when she tries to help an old lady from a robber, as she was push d...
