Prince Liang sat alone at the bedside, the room wrapped in the heavy stillness that follows loss.
Princess Zhi lay sleeping, her breathing shallow but steady, her face pale against the silk pillows. The curtain swayed faintly with the night breeze, brushing against the floor like a whisper that refused to speak aloud.
He stared at her for a long time.
His heart was a mess—tangled memories, regret, anger, fear—knotted so tightly that he didn't know where one feeling ended and another began.
He remembered the first time he had seen her.
It was in the imperial garden, years ago, when the peach blossoms were falling like snow. She had been standing near the koi pond, sleeves rolled up slightly as she fed the fish, her laughter soft and unguarded. Sunlight had filtered through the branches and settled on her hair.
In that moment, something in him had shifted.
He had fallen in love quietly, deeply, without realizing how fast it happened.
Later, he learned the truth about her life.
