The sun's first rays filtered through the palace's majestic windows, illuminating the rooms with a warm morning light. However, there was something different about the routine that morning. Priscilla, who usually called the maids early with the sound of her bell, had not made any sign. It was customary for the servants to wait outside her door between seven and eight in the morning, but that day silence reigned.

  —How strange... — murmured Coral, one of the maids, looking at the closed door with concern.

  —Shouldn't we go in? Something could have happened to her. — suggested a young servant, uneasily.

  —Out of the question. She could be in her underwear. We have to respect her space. — Coral firmly denied, although her gaze also reflected concern.

  Time passed, and with it the discomfort of the servants. At half past eight there was still no sign. At forty past eight, nothing. At fifty past eight, still silence. It was not until a quarter past nine that the expected sound finally rang out: the call bell. The servants hurried in, relieved and a little annoyed by the wait.

  Priscila was sitting by the window, her face tired and her eyes barely open. She looked as if she hadn't slept at all. Coral, in charge of fixing her hair, looked at her carefully as she began to comb it.

  —Miss, did you sleep at all last night? — she asked with genuine concern.

  —An hour or two, if that... — Priscilla replied in a drawn-out, sleepy voice, letting out a slight sigh.

  —Let me tell you, it shows. — Coral joked, trying to lighten the mood.

  The princess couldn't help but laugh softly at the comment.

  —Just put on a lot of makeup. I can't miss today. If it weren't for my best friend's wedding, I wouldn't go. Something tormented me all night, ugh... — she said, rubbing her tired eyes as she tried to pull herself together.

  Coral looked at her sympathetically, but didn't press the matter further. She knew that, whatever it was, Priscila wouldn't share her concerns so easily. For now, all that remained was to prepare her to face the day.

  Priscila arrived at the ceremony with a mixture of emotions swirling inside her. As she crossed the great hall, her thoughts were focused on one thing: finding Brionne. She didn't care about the admiring glances or the murmurs as she passed by; her friend was her priority at that moment.

  When she finally reached the room where Brionne was getting ready, she opened the door carefully. Seeing her, Brionne's eyes began to fill with tears. She was radiant, in her perfectly fitted wedding dress, her hair tied back in an elegant chignon adorned with delicate flowers, and a veil falling gently over her shoulders.

  —Brionne... — whispered Priscilla, moving towards her. The emotion in her voice was palpable. —You look beautiful... —

  Brionne turned at the sound of her voice, and at the sight of her, a warm smile lit up her face.

  —You too, Pri... — she replied before walking towards her and wrapping her in a strong and comforting hug.

  They stayed like that for a few moments, sharing a moment that seemed to stop time. When they finally separated, they both looked at each other with a smile that spoke of a deep connection, of years of friendship and mutual support.

  —You're going to kill that man when he sees you coming. — Priscila joked, discreetly wiping away a tear.

  —That's the idea. — Brionne replied with a slight laugh.

  They both laughed together, a relief in the midst of the emotional intensity of the day. Priscilla, knowing that her friend needed to finish getting ready, decided not to take up any more of her time.

  —You'll be incredible. See you out there. — she said, saying goodbye with a last smile.

  On emerging into the great hall, the bustle hit her like an implacable wave. The voices of the guests mingled in a constant hum, crossed conversations filled every corner, and the air was heavy with laughter and exclamations. Priscilla sighed deeply, feeling the tension begin to build in her shoulders.

  For as long as she could remember, she had detested large social events. They were overwhelming, both because of the noise and the number of people who seemed to surround her on all sides. Her hands began to sweat slightly and moved restlessly, looking for something to do. Her body remained too straight, almost like armor protecting her from the discomfort, and her lower lip suffered the constant attack of her teeth.

  She didn't talk to anyone about this. After all, she was a princess, and as such, she was supposed to handle these kinds of situations with grace and composure. But that didn't make them any less uncomfortable, nor did it make the feeling of being trapped in a gilded cage disappear.

  In a corner of the room, Maximo watched her. Unlike the others, who were absorbed in their own conversations, he noticed every little detail of her body language. It was something he had learned to read over time: how her hands couldn't keep still, how she bit her lip until it hurt, how she spun on her axis if she stood too long.

  He decided to approach her, concerned for her discomfort, but he had barely taken a few steps when a group of six girls intercepted him.

  —Maximo! — exclaimed one of them, a dazzling smile adorning her face as she stepped forward. — How elegant you look today!

  The others followed his example, surrounding him with melodious laughter and calculated flattery. Máximo patiently replied politely, but his attention was elsewhere. Out of the corner of his eye he was still looking for Priscila in the crowd, eager to reach her.

  The young women kept him occupied with banal conversations and shameless flirting, hoping to win him over. Máximo knew exactly what they were after, and although he didn't show it, the situation was irritating him. Finally, after what seemed like centuries, he managed to free himself from the group with a polite excuse.

  —Excuse me, ladies, but I have to attend to an important matter.

  When he finally looked back to where Priscilla had been, she was no longer there.

  —Great... — he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

  He stayed for a moment longer, scanning the crowded room, but couldn't find her. He sighed in disappointment before taking a glass of wine from a tray that passed by.

  He had noticed something peculiar about Priscila for some time, something that the others seemed to ignore. When he was around, everything about her changed. Her hands, which were usually moving nervously, would stop and only gesticulate to emphasize her words. Her posture would relax, and her lip would cease to be implacably bitten. It was as if her presence managed to calm the inner storm that seemed to stalk her in those moments.

  Maximo did not know exactly how to define what he felt about it. On the one hand, he was concerned to see her so affected by situations like this, but on the other, he felt inexplicably happy to be able to give her a break, even if only momentarily.

  Meanwhile, Priscilla had found a quieter spot, away from the hustle and bustle. Leaning against a pillar, she took a deep breath, trying to calm her mind. She couldn't help but wish that someone, anyone, would understand how difficult it was for her. What she didn't know was that this “someone” already existed, and he was determined to help her, as long as she would let him.

  The ceremony began on time, and the room fell silent. All eyes turned towards Brionne as the main doors opened, revealing her in all her glory. The sun streamed through the stained glass windows, illuminating her dress and making it appear almost ethereal. Priscilla, from her place next to the other bridesmaids, felt her heart fill with emotion. For her, Brionne was not just a radiant bride; she was the center of attention in her own right, a figure who encapsulated happiness and hope.

  As the ceremony progressed, Priscilla could not hold back a few tears. Maximo, sitting among the guests, watched her from a distance. He noticed how she discreetly raised a hand to her face to wipe away the tears that fell as she smiled tenderly. That vulnerable and sincere side of Priscilla moved him more than he was willing to admit.

  When the ceremony finally ended to a burst of applause, everyone made their way to the great hall where the dinner would be held. As was tradition, the Valois family was seated next to the royal family, which allowed Maximo and Priscilla, after a whole day of lost glances, to finally speak.

  Maximo waited for the right moment, knowing that it would be easy to strike up a light conversation. As Priscilla took a seat next to him, he greeted her with a warm smile.

  —Cil, you look very nice tonight. — His tone was polite, but there was genuine admiration in his eyes as he looked at her. Priscilla's dress, now complemented by the floral jewelry she had chosen, enhanced her elegance in a way that Max found almost mesmerizing.

  Priscila turned to him with a sincere smile, feeling a little more relaxed now that the ceremony was over.

  —Likewise, Máximo. — she replied in a friendly tone as she took her seat.

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  The two exchanged glances and, for a brief moment, words seemed unnecessary. The hubbub of conversation at the table felt far away as they shared this small moment of connection.

  —Were you crying during the ceremony? — he asked in a low voice, leaning slightly towards her.

  Priscila nodded, not trying to hide it.

  —A little, yes. Brionne looked incredible... — Her voice was filled with emotion as she recalled it. —I can't help it; I'm very sensitive at these kinds of moments.

  Máximo let out a slight laugh, not mocking, but full of affection.

  —It's nice to see that you care so much about these things. Not everyone has that sensitivity, and I think it's one of your best qualities.

  Priscila looked at him with a hint of surprise at his comment, but before she could respond, one of the servants interrupted to serve the first courses. The conversation turned to lighter topics as the dinner progressed, but the little exchange between them was etched in their memories, a reminder of the connection they shared even in the midst of formality and etiquette.

  As the night progressed, both felt more comfortable. The dinner was not only a wedding celebration, but also a perfect setting for glances, discreet laughter and kind words to create a unique atmosphere between Priscila and Máximo, one that, although subtle, suggested that their relationship had deeper layers waiting to be explored.

  The dinner went on, full of laughter and conversation, but Priscilla couldn't help feeling a little overwhelmed. Although she tried to put on a smile, the crowd, the bustle, and the curious stares of the nobles made her feel trapped. The pressure of being the princess, of always being the center of attention, weighed on her more than she wanted to admit. She knew that everyone was watching her, even if they didn't do it on purpose.

  With a slight discomfort, she got up from the table and, without looking at anyone in particular, muttered an excuse:

  —Excuse me, I need some fresh air. — Her voice was barely audible over the murmur of conversations around her.

  She rose with elegance, but as she walked she couldn't help feeling how all eyes followed her steps, a feeling that made her deeply uncomfortable. She walked quickly to one of the side doors of the hall and went out to the garden, where the cool night instantly embraced her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, seeking tranquility.

  Maximo, who had been watching from where he was standing, saw her get up. He noticed that she was restless, as if she were trying to escape from something that made her uncomfortable, but he couldn't fully understand what it was. Despite the palpable tension in the air, something inside him made him follow her. He wasn't sure why, but he felt that there was something he had to tell her.

  When he found her in the garden, there, alone, looking up at the starry sky, he couldn't help but approach her with a firm step. — Priscila... are you all right? — His voice sounded softer than he had intended, as if he genuinely cared about her.

  She turned slowly as she heard his voice, and for a second, their eyes met. It was a brief moment, but charged with something inexplicable. A slight smile appeared on her lips, although her eyes still reflected that restlessness that she could not hide.

  —Yes, just... — Priscilla sighed, looking away. —I just need a moment of calm, this... all this is a bit much for me. — she admitted, without the facade she normally maintained.

  Maximo nodded slowly, as if he understood perfectly what she was feeling. But before he could say anything else, she broke the silence with a question that seemed more for herself than for him.

  —Have you ever thought about what your ideal wedding would be like? — she asked, looking at the floor for a moment, as if this were a more private conversation.

  Maximo watched her in silence, surprised by the question, but felt that it was the right moment to share something more profound.

  —Yes, I've thought about it... — he replied without thinking too much. —I would imagine something small, intimate, where only the people closest to me are present. I'm not very interested in spectacle or pomp. For me, the important thing would be that it is genuine, that it is really about commitment, not about what others expect to see.

  Priscila looked up, and for a moment, their eyes met again. Something in his words had touched her, as if they shared a similar vision. But that coincidence made her feel even stranger, as if it were too easy to agree on something so important.

  —I... was also thinking along those lines. — she said, her voice lowering a tone. — Something quiet, without all the paraphernalia, without people watching all the time. A small place, with the people who really matter. But, I guess that's easier said than done, isn't it? When you're in a royal family, expectations are very high.

  Maximo watched her for a moment, feeling something in his chest tighten. The coincidence in their thoughts was stronger than he had anticipated, and something inside him, a not-quite-defined spark, grew strong. The silence between them grew heavy, as if they were both on the verge of saying something they didn't know if they wanted to express. Finally, he spoke again, this time with a slight smile:

  —It's funny how we both think the same thing, isn't it? But even so, I think that... life doesn't always allow us to do what we want. Sometimes, we have to do what is expected of us. — he said, almost as if it were a warning.

  Priscila looked at him for a moment, her expression changing slightly, as if that truth had hit her in an unexpected way. The tension increased, and although his words seemed calm, there was an electric charge in the air that neither of them could ignore.

  —It's true. — she replied, unable to avoid a slight bitter smile. — Sometimes ’doing what is expected' is all we have.

  A long silence fell between them. It was not a comfortable silence, but one laden with unspoken thoughts, with feelings that seemed to surface, but neither of them was ready to touch them yet. The conversation that had previously been fluid now felt like an elusive dance between the two of them, where words were chosen with care.

  Maximo finally spoke, breaking the tension:

  —So, if we could choose, what would your ideal marriage be like? — he asked with a deeper look, searching her eyes.

  Priscila looked at him, as if she were measuring each word before answering. Finally, her lips curved into a calm smile, although her eyes still reflected a small internal storm.

  —Someone who understands me, who doesn't pressure me to be something I'm not. Someone with whom I can share my ideas, my fears, my dreams, without having to pretend to be something different. — she said sincerely, her voice becoming somewhat shaky.

  Maximo stared at her, as if those words had struck a chord. Something inside him stirred, a feeling he didn't know how to define, but it was there, palpable in the air.

  —I think I'm looking for the same thing too. — he finally replied, his tone soft but charged with something he couldn't put into words.

  For a moment, they both remained silent, the tension between them now more dense, almost palpable. Then, Maximo, as if wanting to lighten the burden of the moment, smiled slightly.

  —We should go back before they look for us. — he said, with a smile that sought to lighten the atmosphere.

  Priscila nodded, although she knew that something had changed between them, something that neither of them could deny. With a last look, Maximo accompanied her back inside the palace, but that conversation had left a mark, a tension that, although not verbalized, remained floating between them.

  Brionne and her husband were making their way to their carriage, ready to begin their honeymoon. Priscilla was the last to say goodbye, her heart heavy at the departure of her friend.

  —Brionne, I wish you all the best. Write to me often, don't forget. — said Priscilla, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke, a mixture of happiness for her friend and sadness at her departure.

  Brionne smiled wistfully, her eyes shining with emotion.

  —Of course I will, Pri. You must come and visit me soon. I'll miss you!

  Priscila nodded with a forced smile, feeling the weight of the farewell growing heavier in her chest. Silence fell over them both for a moment, as if words were not enough to express everything they felt.

  —Have a great honeymoon, Bri, you deserve it. — said Priscila, unable to prevent sadness from seeping into her words.

  Brionne gave her a big hug, as if trying to convey all her strength and love in that gesture.

  —I adore you, Pri. Thank you for everything. You will always be my dearest friend.

  —I adore you, Bri.

  The two of them separated, their hands forming a heart in the air, a symbolic gesture that they had shared since they were little, as a symbol of their unbreakable friendship. The carriage began to move forward, slowly pulling away, while Priscilla continued to look at her friend. The emptiness inside her grew with each step the carriage took, as if a part of her were leaving with Brionne.

  The return to the palace was silent and heavy. Inside, a wave of repressed emotions began to overflow. When she arrived at the palace, she felt disconnected from the world around her. She went up to her room without speaking to anyone, closed the door behind her and undressed slowly, as if each movement cost her an immense effort.

  She didn't eat dinner that night. She didn't even feel hungry. The idea of eating seemed so distant, so alien to everything she was feeling. She lay on her bed, looking at the ceiling, but not really seeing it. Her eyes scanned the shadows cast by the dim light filtering through the curtains, but nothing seemed to be really there. Her mind was elsewhere, a dark place full of heavy thoughts.

  The tears began to fall slowly. At first timidly, as if her body were trying to resist the flood of emotions that were invading her. The first drops were warm, as if all the pain had been waiting for that moment to be released. She didn't really know why she was crying, but deep down she felt that something inside her needed to be expelled. As if the weight of the days, the responsibilities, the expectations and the farewells were accumulating inside her, pressing on her chest, and now she finally had the opportunity to release it, even if it was in the form of tears.

  Is it because of Brionne? she wondered. The idea of her friend leaving and starting a new life without her was floating around in her mind, but she soon realized that it wasn't just that. It wasn't just the sadness at her friend's departure. There was something deeper, something that had been building up inside her for a long time. The emptiness of Brionne's departure was intertwined with something bigger, something that had been lurking in the shadows of her soul.

  It was the emptiness she felt in her heart, the loneliness that never faded, despite being surrounded by people. The feeling that it was never enough, that she should always be more, do more, be more perfect. It was the weight of expectations crushing her, the responsibility of being the princess, of being the heiress, of being the one who should always maintain her calm, her composure, her dignity, without showing a shred of vulnerability. The burden of being the person on whom everyone placed their hopes, their dreams, their expectations. That burden that seemed to have become too heavy for her to bear.

  As the tears became stronger, more uncontrollable, anguish mixed with sadness, forming a whirlwind of emotions difficult to identify. The feeling of being isolated, of being trapped in her own role, of not being able to escape the perfect image that others saw of her. Who was she really? Was there anything beyond the princess that everyone expected her to be?

  No matter what she did, something was still missing. Something inside her didn't fit, as if her soul was searching for something it couldn't find. Every time she thought she had found peace or satisfaction, something broke, something crumbled and the emptiness took hold of her again. It wasn't just physical loneliness, but a deep, existential loneliness. Surrounded by people, by friends, by her family, but still completely alone in her thoughts, in her desires, in her fears. As if nobody could really see her for who she was.

  The tears kept falling, silent, unhurried. As if her soul needed that rest, that release. As if all the pain and pressure accumulated over time had to come out somehow. Each tear seemed to tell an untold story, an unhealed wound. And as they fell, Priscilla's mind seemed to grow even more clouded. The shadows on the ceiling lengthened, but there was no comfort in the darkness.

  When finally, exhausted, the tears stopped, she remained there, in the stillness of her room, as if time had stopped. Her body exhausted, her mind exhausted, everything seemed to blur. She closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would come to offer her a respite, but she knew, deep down, that she would not find peace that night. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep peacefully, that the thoughts would continue to haunt her mind, that the emptiness would still be there, latent, waiting to be filled somehow. But, at least for that night, there was nothing she could do but wait for sleep to come, even if it had no answers to offer her.

  I hope you are enjoying this book that I do with all my heart and courage.