[Charlotte's POV]
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The sharp sound of her blade slashing against training dummies echoed through the empty training field of the royal palace, long after the sun had set. The moonlight bathed her figure in silver, making her sweat-soaked dress cling to her as she swung again and again.
Clang.
Her breathing was uneven, her usually flawless hair now a mess tied behind her neck, sticking to her skin. Her eyes, void-like as ever, held no elegance—only frustration, sorrow, and something she hadn't felt in a long time:
Helplessness.
She paused, panting heavily, her gaze fixed on the deep slash marks left in the wooden dummy. A faint memory returned—the grand ballroom glowing in gold, the sound of laughter, music, and joy filling the air.
And then...
Him.
Noah, standing there, dressed in his striking black and gold suit—handsome, composed, powerful. Dancing with Scarlett. Laughing with Lyra. Whispering something to Olivia that made her smile softly as they danced.
And then her. Layla, descending the grand staircase like a dark angel, dressed in a breathtaking bridal set—the one he gave her.
That moment burned into her memory.
He didn't even glance her way.
Not even once.
She had spent hours getting ready. She wore the gown her mother had commissioned from the finest seamstress in the empire. Her hair had been done to perfection, her perfume subtle and sweet. All in hopes that maybe—just maybe—he would look at her the way he used to.
But he didn't.
He didn't ask for a dance.
Didn't smile.
Didn't speak.
Why...?
Is he still angry with me...?
Her grip on the sword tightened as her heart clenched painfully.
But he said he forgave me... didn't he...?
Then his words came back to her like a cold wind:
"We're just friends… or strangers."
"I can't treat you like before."
Her knees nearly buckled.
That's when it hit her—he meant it.
He had moved on.
While she kept waiting—expecting—taking him for granted. Thinking that one apology, one regretful look, would somehow erase the pain she caused him.
It wouldn't.
She hadn't fought for him.
She hadn't earned his love back.
The sword slipped from her fingers, clattering to the ground as she slammed her fists into the training dummy again and again—until blood smeared across the wood.
"Princess! Please stop!" a panicked servant cried from behind the field's edge. "Your hands are injured—you haven't taken a break since the party ended!"
But Charlotte didn't listen.
She couldn't stop.
She wiped her bloody knuckles against her dress, glaring at the dummy like it was mocking her.
"I won't give up," she whispered.
"Even if he's forgotten me…"
"Even if he won't look at me now…"
"No matter what it takes…"
"I'll make him love me again."
She picked up her sword, blood dripping from her fingers onto the hilt.
Her eyes were no longer void.
They were burning.
A/N:
It hurts… to become a stranger in the eyes of the one who once saw the world in you."
That's why love is both a blessings and a curse .
My dear readers never play with heart of someone because no one knows what a broken person would do when he awakens...
love you all...
take care..
-Author.