After a long road wrapped in silence, their minds never truly rested. Thoughts chased each other without pause, yet somewhere deep inside, they hoped for a life they could choose for themselves—a life of freedom, running through the rain, laughing without fear. But sometimes, we do not choose. Sometimes, destiny shapes everything for us. Still, even within a fate we did not ask for, that does not mean we are forbidden from finding moments of joy.
When they arrived, Laury glanced at the Queen.
"Pardon me," he said softly, before taking her hand—not as a servant, but as a man instinctively trying to protect the woman beside him.
A little boy suddenly ran toward them.
"Oh! Mister James, you're here!" he exclaimed.
Margret smiled at the child, and he laughed back brightly. Turning to him, Laury asked, "Is the house ready?"
"Yes, sir. Please, follow me."
The boy led them to a small, warm house, modest but welcoming.
Margret went straight upstairs. She needed a bath—needed to wash away the weight of the day. She stepped into the shower, letting her dress fall, her pale skin meeting the steam. She undid the braid of her hair and let the warm water wrap around her body. Eyes closed, she breathed deeply, trying to feel nothing but the present moment.
Later, dressed again, she sat quietly on the balcony.
A soft knock echoed behind her.
"Come in," she said.
Laury entered and sat on a chair behind her.
"Your Majesty, tomorrow we will begin this journey," he said calmly.
"I know," she replied. "We must search every corner of this city."
Then she turned toward him, moving closer, her gaze sharp and deliberate.
"Right now, I am not a queen," she said firmly. "I'm just Margret. Do you hear me, Mister James?" She blinked.
Laury looked at her, surprised, then nodded.
"Yes. I'm listening, Miss Margret," he said, letting out a small laugh.
Margret's eyes drifted to his lips. She quickly looked away.
"I'm sorry for what happened in the carriage," she said. "I didn't mean to. I just wanted silence. I'm sorry."
Laury turned fully toward her.
"It's fine, Margret. Sometimes we all need a moment just to feel like ourselves."
"Yes… but let me tell you something," she said.
"Of course. I'm listening."
"Maybe I wanted to silence you," she admitted softly. "But I also wondered… how would I feel if I kissed you?" A gentle smile touched her lips.
Laury didn't smile back.
"Your Majesty," he said quietly, "one day you will find someone who loves you the way you deserve. Someone who would give you the entire world just to hold your hand. And that person isn't standing next to you."
Margret held his gaze, unshaken.
"Well, Laury," she said calmly, "when I want something, I do whatever it takes to get it—just like this cure we are searching for."
She blinked, turned away, and walked to her bed. Slipping beneath the blanket, she spoke again, her voice softer now.
"Good night. Please turn off the light when you leave, love."
He froze.
"Love?" he echoed.
"Yes," she replied lightly. "You deserve that name. What—surprised?"
Laury turned off the light, a faint smile on his lips.
But his heart refused to follow it. His feelings stayed locked away—forbidden, silent, and unresolved.