The first rays of the sun pierced through the bedroom curtains, scattering golden light across the polished floor and announcing the birth of a new day. Velaxor stirred from his sleep, his mind already racing with thoughts of the responsibilities and expectations that awaited him. Born into wealth and privilege, he was accustomed to a life of comfort, yet it often felt like a gilded cage.
As he stretched and stepped out of his room, his father appeared in the hallway, uncharacteristically serene. The sternness that usually marked his presence was softened, replaced by a warmth that made Velaxor pause.
"Good morning, my son," his father said, his voice gentle, almost tender. "Would you like to have breakfast with me today?"
Velaxor blinked in surprise. Such courtesy from his father was rare, and a part of him instinctively wondered if this kindness carried some hidden motive. Still, he nodded politely and joined him at the breakfast table. Conversation flowed lightly, and though Velaxor appreciated the unusual warmth, he paid it little attention, finishing his meal quickly. Outside, the morning air was crisp, calling him to meet his friends.
Velaxor had been inseparable from Loren and Mark since childhood. Their bond had grown over years of shared adventures, laughter, and secrets. Loren, the daughter of a well-known politician, carried herself with poise and intelligence, while Mark, son of a humble farmer, had a quiet strength and honesty that grounded their trio. Their favorite meeting place was Mark's father's farm, a peaceful escape from the rigid structures of their respective lives.
Velaxor arrived first, taking in the soft morning light as he walked toward the hill. From a distance, he spotted a familiar silhouette—Loren, perched on a grassy slope, sketching something in her notebook. He approached with a smile, though his heart felt heavier than usual.
"Good morning, Loren," he greeted, settling beside her. "How are you today? I see you're drawing. May I see your new sketch?"
Loren looked up, her eyes reflecting both joy and concentration. "Good morning. I got here early and started drawing right away. It's nothing special."
"Nothing special?" Velaxor chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You know that's not true. Your talent is extraordinary. But you also know the world we live in—corrupt, greedy, obsessed with status. Your father would never allow you to pursue art seriously, just as my father insists I follow his path into business."
Before they could continue, Mark arrived, his boots kicking up dust as he ran toward them. The friends exchanged greetings, their laughter mingling with the gentle rustle of the trees. They spoke of trivial things, admired the fields stretching before them, and let the serenity of nature wash over their worries. Time passed unnoticed until the sun was high, reminding them it was time to return home.
When Velaxor returned, the warmth of breakfast had faded. His father's gaze was cold and commanding once more, a stark reminder that gentleness was a luxury rarely afforded to him. They shared lunch in silence, each bite tasting heavier than the last. Finally, his father spoke, his voice calm but firm.
"Velaxor, my son… you know I love you, and I wish nothing but the best for your future and your status in society…"
Velaxor's patience snapped. "Enough with the ridiculous preambles! You call this love? You don't even let me choose my own path!"
His father's face hardened. "You won't need a path anymore. I have arranged everything with Mr. Grilas. All that remains is signing the marriage contract."
Velaxor froze. "Grilas? That's Loren's father! This is absurd! We are just friends—I will not marry her!"
"Do not raise your voice to me!" his father snapped. "Your opinion is irrelevant. The decision is final."
With anger and frustration boiling inside, Velaxor could take no more. He stormed out of the house, his steps hurried and uneven, until he reached the familiar fields of Mark's family farm. Mark immediately noticed him, concern etched across his face.
"Velaxor, what's happened? Is it true? Are you… are you going to marry her?"
"Never," Velaxor replied, his jaw tight. "I refuse to be a pawn in my father's schemes. He wants to use me to secure a political alliance. I will not let that happen."
At that moment, Loren appeared, her face streaked with tears, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. Velaxor knelt beside her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"Do not worry, Loren. We won't let them manipulate us. We'll make them believe we've gone to the capital. I've already sent someone to handle the house purchase and your university registration. Soon, it will appear as if everything is proceeding as they wish."
Loren's voice trembled. "This is no time for games, Velaxor. What do you hope to achieve?"
"We will do what we were forbidden to do, just to buy ourselves time and frustrate them. I have a plan—brilliant, if I do say so."
Though Loren hesitated, uncertainty battling with trust, she finally nodded. By evening, the three friends sat in silence, the weight of the day pressing heavily upon them. The night promised little comfort, and no one could foresee what the morning would bring. Yet, for the first time in a long while, they felt a flicker of hope—that for a brief moment, they could reclaim their lives from the hands of those who sought to control them.
To be continued...