𝑳𝑶𝑴𝑩𝑨𝑹𝑫 & 𝑪𝑼𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑵

The heavy, cloying scent of lilies and regret clung to Juliette, a suffocating perfume of her forced future. She paced the opulent room, the delicate lace of her wedding dress scratching her skin like a thousand tiny judgments. The engagement ring, a cold, heavy band on her finger, mocked the tremor in her hands.

"Princess, you should be happy. Today you're getting married." Her father's voice, thick with false concern, cut through the tension. She met his gaze, her own eyes blazing with defiance. "Am I getting married for love?" she asked, the sarcasm a bitter taste on her tongue.

He had no answer, only a dismissive gesture as his secretary announced, "It's time."

With a mock smile plastered on her face, she walked down the grand staircase, the stares of the assembled guests like physical blows. But the closer she got to the waiting groom, the more the anger simmered, a quiet rebellion brewing beneath the white silk.

Then, a sudden, exhilarating thought. She stopped, her breath catching in her throat. This wasn't her destiny. Not anymore.