A Princess Restless
The first pale light of dawn spilled softly over the sprawling palace gardens, painting the dew-kissed petals of blooming roses and lilies with a silvery hue. A faint mist curled among the emerald hedges, wrapping the ancient stone fountains in a ghostly embrace. Sarah moved silently along the cobblestone paths, her bare feet brushing against the cool moss that clung to the cracks. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and damp earth, a fragrant promise of new beginnings that felt cruelly ironic to her.
She paused beside a slender birch, its white bark gleaming faintly in the early light, and traced the delicate pattern of its leaves with a restless finger. Around her, the garden stirred—birds fluttered awake, their melodies weaving through the morning stillness like a fragile thread. Yet, despite the beauty sprawling in every direction, Sarah felt an aching distance inside her chest, as if the world outside was vibrant and alive, while she remained trapped in a glass cage.
A sigh escaped her lips, soft and bitter. Her silk gown rustled faintly, the heavy fabric at odds with the lightness she longed for. Every morning began like this: a ritual of appearances, a performance…
