{Third Person}
Then Amara continued reading.
Her friends had anticipated her reaction. Almost imdiately after, they told her not to let it affect her. Not to dwell on it.
They reminded her to focus on where she was now—to be comfortable and to take things as they ca.
Amara let out a small breath and said softly to herself, "I’m fine." And this ti, she ant it.
Then the tone of the letter shifted, and the teasing began.
Amara could almost hear their voices change—lighter, more curious, a little mischievous.
They asked her about the Alpha Prince and the rumours.
They ntioned that Lila had been going around telling anyone who would listen just how cruel and dangerous he was, how unstable and frightening he was.
And now, they were worried about her.
Amara stopped reading and let out a scoff. "Of course she would," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head slightly.
Her gaze dropped back to the letter, but her thoughts had already drifted elsewhere.
"Lila really is sothing else..." she added, a faint edge to her voice now. "A leopard never changes its spots."
After reading through the entire content, she got out of her bed, went straight to her desk, and began writing a response.
Every now and then, she paused, thinking carefully before continuing, as though trying to make sure her words carried enough of her presence to reach them.
When she finally finished, she exhaled softly and read through each letter once more before folding them neatly.
One by one, she slipped them into their envelopes and wrote their nas on the back. Finally, she set the envelopes aside, returned to her bed and picked up the photograph without thinking.
Sohow, her thoughts wandered slowly to Alexander.
"How am I going to give these to him..." she murmured softly.
She turned slightly onto her side, still holding the photograph, her mind drifting between possibilities—when she might see him, how she might ask, whether she should go to him directly or wait.
But the thoughts didn’t stay long.
The quiet of the room, the warmth in her chest, and the comfort of the mont slowly pulled her under.
Amara didn’t rember exactly when she fell asleep.
One mont, she had been lying there with the photograph pressed to her chest, her thoughts drifting lazily from one thing to another, and the next, everything around her had faded.
She was sowhere else.
The first thing she noticed was the warmth. It wasn’t just the air—it was the feeling of it, soft and gentle, as though the world itself had slowed down.
She was standing in a garden. Flowers stretched endlessly in every direction, blooming in soft colours that swayed gently in a breeze she could barely feel.
The place was quiet, beautiful in a way that didn’t feel entirely real, yet didn’t feel strange either.
Amara turned slowly, taking it all in. Then she spotted him.
Alexander stood a few steps away, watching her.
For a mont, she simply stared. Sothing about him felt different. Then she realized what it was. His hair.
It was completely black, without a single strand of white.
Her brows drew together slightly, as though she wanted to question it, but before she could speak, he began walking toward her. His steps were unhurried, steady, and there was sothing lighter in his expression, sothing she wasn’t used to seeing.
"Run," he said.
The word caught her off guard.
"What?" she asked, half confused, half amused.
But he didn’t repeat himself. He simply kept walking toward her.
And sohow, that was enough. Amara turned and ran. A laugh escaped her before she could stop it, light and surprised, as though she hadn’t expected herself to react that way.
The grass brushed against her feet as she moved, her dress shifting with each step.
She could hear him too close behind her.
"You’re too slow," he called after her.
Amara glanced back, breath catching as she tried not to laugh. "You’re cheating!"
"I haven’t even started."
That only made her run faster, but it didn’t matter.
She barely made it a few more steps before he caught her. His hand closed around her wrist, pulling her back just enough to throw her off balance, and the next second, they both tumbled onto the grass.
Amara let out a small gasp that quickly turned into laughter as she landed, the soft ground cushioning her fall.
"Alexander—!"
She didn’t get to finish. His fingers were already at her sides, and the sudden ticklish sensation made her jerk imdiately as laughter burst out of her, uncontrollable and bright.
"Stop—! Stop, I an it!" she gasped, trying to twist away, but he only followed her movent, making it worse.
"You lost," he said calmly.
"I don’t care—just stop!" she said between breaths, her laughter spilling out no matter how hard she tried to control it. "Alexander—please!"
"Say it."
"I lost! I lost!"
The mont the words left her mouth, he stopped just like that.
Her laughter didn’t disappear imdiately. It lingered, softer now, as she tried to catch her breath. Her chest rose and fell quickly, and she pushed a strand of hair away from her face, still smiling without aning to.
Then she noticed how quiet it had beco.
He hadn’t moved, so she looked up and found him already looking at her. He was way too close.
Her smile faded slightly, though it didn’t disappear completely.
There was sothing in the way he was looking at her that made her suddenly aware of everything—the space between them, the way his hand still hovered near her waist, and the way her breathing hadn’t quite settled yet.
Neither of them spoke. And sohow, that made everything feel heavier.
Alexander’s gaze dropped briefly to her lips, then returned to her eyes. Before she could think, he leaned down.
The kiss was soft at first, gentle, but it didn’t stay that way for long.
Amara stilled imdiately, her fingers tightening slightly against the grass as her mind went blank. The mont stretched, deepened, and sothing in her responded before she could stop it.
Her breath caught, then slipped.
She beca acutely aware of how close he was, how real it felt—too real, as though this wasn’t sothing her mind had created, but sothing that was actually happening.
Her chest tightened, her breathing grew uneven, and just as it began to feel overwhelming, her eyes flew open.
She drew in a sharp breath, as though she had been pulled out of sothing she wasn’t ready to leave.
For a mont, she simply stared at the ceiling, her heart racing too fast. Then her hand moved.
Without thinking, she touched her lips, her fingers lingering there.
"What..." she whispered.
The word barely ca out.
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