Back in my room, I collapsed onto my bed like a tragic heroine from a cheap romance novel. If someone had painted me right now, the title would be "Girl Who Denies Everything, Especially Her Own Heart." Very dramatic. Very accurate.
I stared at the ceiling. The ceiling stared back. Rude.
Yesterday, Kit had saved me from a cart of death and vegetables. Today, I had nearly choked on jealousy because a random girl dared-DARED-to speak to him with giggles.
Giggles are dangerous.
They mean interest. Or worse: flirting.
I pressed my pillow to my face and groaned.
"This is not love," I muttered into the fabric.
"Just gratitude. And mild... irritation. And maybe tiny butterflies."
Tiny my foot. They were doing full Olympics gymnastics in my stomach.
I rolled over and stared at the window. In my old world, this would be the part where my best friend dragged me to get bubble tea and yelled, "Girl, you're in love!" before posting about it online.
Unfortunately, I had no bubble tea here and no internet, only two sisters who teased me to death and a guard who was apparently attractive enough to cause problems for me.
"I should not be falling for him," I whispered.
"This story should be about prince falling for Cinderella. Not me falling for a guard. I am just a side character. A supporting role. A comedic extra."
Yet every time Kit looked at me with that gentle smile, I forgot I was supposed to be a side character. I forgot about balls and glass slippers and iconic plot points and happy endings that belonged to other people.
I sat up. "I am not in love," I said, wagging a finger at nobody. "I am simply... concerned."
But then my brain betrayed me.
Concern does not make you jealous when other girls giggle at him. Concern does not make your heart skip three whole beats when he puts a hand on your back. Concern does not make you imagine what his real name is, or how he looks without that messy guard hair, or if he smiles like that for other people.
"Oh no," I whispered. The ceiling offered no guidance.
I got off the bed and paced. "Okay, think. Step one: do not panic. Step two: do not confess. Step three: absolutely do not fall deeper."
I stopped pacing. "Too late?"
I covered my face. I felt shy and ridiculous and warm all at once. My heart was not listening to the plot outline I remembered from the books or movies. It was making its own script.
"What am I supposed to do now?" I asked.
No answer. Just the faint sound of wind outside and my treacherous heart beating faster than normal.
If this were a story in my old world, the answer would be simple: admit it, pursue it, see what happens.
But this wasn't my old world. This was a fairy tale world with a known ending.
And I-Anastasia, a transmigrator, chaos gremlin, and now inconveniently-in-love girl-was not sure if changing the plot was allowed.
But I did know one thing.
I liked Kit. And maybe... no, definitely... I was falling for him.
Which was a problem.
A very romantic problem.
I was still pacing when my door burst open without warning.
"We bring snacks!" Cinderella declared, holding a plate of pastries like it was a royal decree.
"And emotional support," Drizella added, closing the door behind her. "Mostly emotional support."
I froze mid-pace. "What emotional- there is no emotional anything here. Everything is normal. I am normal."
Cinderella sat on my bed with the pastries. "Normal people don't pace holes into the floor."

"It's not a hole," I argued.
Drizella pointed. "It's becoming one."
I glanced down. Traitor floor.
The two of them exchanged a look-one of those telepathic sister conversations-and then Drizella cleared her throat dramatically.
"So," she said. "You like Kit."
I choked on air. "I do not!"
Cinderella nodded as if taking notes. "Symptom one: denial."
Drizella raised a finger. "Symptom two: jealousy. You were glaring at that girl so hard I thought you would set her on fire."
"I was not glaring!" I protested. "I was... observing. Wait... How did you know!"
"With murder in your eyes," Cinderella added helpfully.
I groaned into my hands. "Even if I liked him—which I don't—but even if I did, it would not matter. Kit has a future. A promising one. He could rise to captain of the guard, or higher. He doesn't need complicated girls who transmig—" I stopped myself, coughed, and corrected, "—who is beautiful enough for being choosen by only divorced perverts."
Cinderella tilted her head. "You're afraid you're bad for his future?"
"Yes!" I said, relieved she understood. "That! Exactly that!"
Drizella rolled her eyes. "You are the daughter of a baron, living in the palace, the queen likes you, the prince likes you-"
"What does the prince have to do with anything?" I asked too quickly.
Cinderella blinked. "It was just an example."
"Oh." I cleared my throat. "Continue."
Drizella tapped her chin. "If Kit wants to rise in the ranks, having a noble wife helps. And you are noble. And you are not awful. That is already advantage."
"High praise," I muttered.
Cinderella scooted closer. "Also, love isn't bad for a future. It's good. It gives purpose."
Drizella nodded. "And did you see the way he looks at you? If he had a future plan, it involved staring at you in every scene."
My ears burned. "He does not stare!"
"Oh please," Drizella snorted. "He stares like you're the main event and the rest of us are background furniture."
Cinderella giggled. "And you stare back."
"I do not-" I began, then stopped. "...do I?"
Both nodded instantly.
I sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of realization settling in my chest like soft blankets instead of stones.
"But what if... what if the story isn't meant for me? What if I change something I'm not supposed to?"
Drizella frowned. "So change it."
Cinderella placed a pastry in my hand like it was a royal oath. "Confess. Or at least try. Love belongs to everyone, not just princesses in stories."
My heart fluttered-and for once I didn't try to stop it.
"...Fine," I whispered.
Drizella grinned. Cinderella clapped.
"I will-" I swallowed, cheeks warm, "-tell him."
It felt terrifying.
And wonderful.
And real.
* * *
Adrien stood by the balcony, staring out at the palace garden. The moonlight made the hedges look silver and unreal.
Rowan entered quietly, carrying two cups of warm tea.
"You look like a man preparing for battle," Rowan said.
Adrien accepted the tea with a tired smile. "Battle would be easier."
Rowan chuckled. "That bad?"
Adrien hesitated. "I keep thinking about yesterday... and today. The market, the cart, Anastasia's face when I caught her. The way she looks at me when she thinks I'm not paying attention."
He paused, staring down into the cup. "Rowan, I think I'm-"
"In trouble?" Rowan finished, amused.
Adrien laughed once, quiet and frustrated. "Yes. Exactly."
Rowan leaned against the balcony rail. "I noticed something was changing. You stare too long when she walks by. And when she speaks, you actually listen."
Adrien flinched. "Is it that obvious?"
"To me? Yes," Rowan said. "To others? Not yet."
Adrien exhaled, shaky. "She makes my heart feel... light. And alive. It's terrifying. Because I don't know what to do with it."
Rowan nodded slowly. "That's how love usually starts."
Adrien closed his eyes at the word. Love. It felt beautiful and dangerous.
"A king cannot choose freely," he murmured.
"Mother expects the bride to strengthen the throne. The court expects the trials to matter. The kingdom expects a perfect queen."
"And your heart expects happiness," Rowan added.
Adrien let out a humorless laugh. "Do kings get happiness?"
Rowan didn't answer immediately. His voice was softer than usual when he finally spoke. "Some do. But not without risk."
Adrien's hands curled around the cup.
"Anastasia has no idea who I am. What I'm expected to be. She deserves honesty. And choice."
Rowan's expression tightened, protective in his own quiet way. "If you pursue this, you must be sure. For her sake."
"I am scared," Adrien admitted. "Scared of wanting something the council will not approve. Scared of hurting her. Scared of losing her before I even have her."
Rowan placed a steady hand on his shoulder. "Then don't run from it. But be prepared. A king's heart cannot be simple."
Adrien nodded, jaw set, pain and longing in equal measure.
"If I could choose freely... she would already be mine."
Rowan didn't smile. He just squeezed his shoulder once. "Then fight for the future you want. Not just the one others planned."
The night swallowed their silence, but both understood that nothing would be simple anymore.
-------------------------------------
SIDE NOTE: If you like my story then give it a star and share it with your friends, this will help me to keep motivated and write new stories.