Days and weeks passed, and with each day, Noha's heart grew increasingly attached to something she didn't fully understand. Every morning, she would rise and gaze from her window at the bustling streets and the colors of the city beneath the sun. There, among the narrow alleys and the rustle of small trees, the little bakery glowed with its warm light. A simple place, unexpected amidst her grand palace, yet it had become the center of all her dreams.
Each evening, as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, Noha felt an overwhelming need to escape, if only for a moment, from the gold, the constraints, and the cold faces of the palace. She knew her mother would be strict, and Sky would grow angrier if he discovered any attempt at rebellion—but she could not resist the pull.
She slipped quietly from her window, avoiding the servants and the palace lights, weaving through gardens and long halls until she reached the alley leading to the bakery. The cold night air wrapped around her, and with every step, she felt a twinge of fear—but a different fear, a mix of freedom and danger.
When she arrived, she saw Arion as she remembered him: golden-haired, his eyes shining, laughing with a small child receiving a piece of bread, pouring his heart and soul into everything he did. A strange warmth stirred in Noha's chest, a feeling she had never known within the walls of her palace. She saw the simplicity in every movement of his, and the genuine joy in every smile.
She hesitated behind a corner, torn between the desire to approach and the fear of being discovered. Then, summoning her courage, she stepped into the light and stood before him.
Arion looked up, his golden eyes meeting her hazel ones for the first time. This moment felt different from every moment before—surprise, curiosity, and a sense of peace she hadn't felt in years.
He smiled at her. "You're here again… I didn't expect you."
Noha trembled slightly, yet her heart felt freer than ever. "I just… I wanted to see life as you see it," she whispered softly, as if revealing a small secret.
Arion sat on the curb, and Noha joined him, needing no words. The air smelled faintly of bread and smoke, with the distant sounds of the city around them. She felt that everything was normal here, something she had never experienced in the palace—a world far from gold and control, touching her heart directly.
She began to tell him about her life in the palace: the pressures, the suffocation between duty and tradition, her desire to choose her own path, even if it defied all expectations.
Arion listened quietly, smiling simply, understanding every word without judgment. Then he spoke of his world: the bakery, the smells, the children who came to him, and the small dreams he carried inside. For the first time in a long while, Noha felt part of something real, something alive, something that connected her heart to life.
Yet it wasn't all peaceful. In her mind, Sky was drawing closer with every day, and every step she took carried risk. She realized that every secret meeting, every word, every smile could be discovered. Still, she felt that these moments were worth the danger because they were the first time she had felt rebellion, freedom, and ownership of her own heart.
The secret meetings began to repeat. Each night brought laughter, discussions about life, dreams, and the small things Noha had never known before. With every encounter, she felt her heart inch closer to Arion, while the golden, controlling world of the palace grew colder, more distant, and increasingly restrictive.
Each morning when Noha returned to her window, she carried with her a mix of happiness and fear, knowing that her heart now held something she had never known—and that every step toward love and freedom would be fraught with danger. Yet this time, she had chosen to follow her heart, even if the path was difficult and shadowed.
She knew that each secret meeting was a challenge, each word a step toward rebellion, and each glance from Arion strengthened her courage. And yet, an inner feeling stronger than all fear persisted: the feeling that she had begun to choose her life for herself, and that her heart was no longer anyone's but her own.