The worst part about love wasn't fear.
Mira had lived with fear long enough to recognize it for what it was. Fear was loud, dramatic, and usually arrived with sirens, threats, or men who thought power belonged to them.
Love was quieter.
Love waited.
Love sat in your chest like a question you couldn't answer without changing everything.
Mira learned this while standing in the middle of the café, staring at a newspaper she absolutely did not ask for, holding a cup of coffee that had gone cold in her hands.
The headline was massive.
Impossible to miss.
FORMER PRINCE ADRIAN CALLED TO ADDRESS NATIONAL FORUM
Below it, a photograph.
Adrian.
Mid-sentence. Hands open. Expression calm and devastatingly composed.
Mira's stomach dropped.
Leo leaned over her shoulder, reading.
"Oh," he said. "Oh no."
She didn't look at him.
"When was he going to tell me?" she asked quietly.
Leo winced. "Based on his face in that photo? Never."
Adrian was late again.
