That Night - Later, alone in her chambers, Ariana stood before her mirror. She touched her own shoulder, imagining the warmth of Lucian's hand there. She hated herself for remembering. For wanting to remember. Ariana whispered, "Why does he haunt me like this?" She stepped back, her reflection shimmering in candlelight—half in shadow, half in light. Softly, she said, "Why do I… miss him?"
The Morning After - Sunlight streamed into Ariana's chambers, warm and golden—but her heart felt heavy. Sleep had danced just out of reach all night, stolen by memories of masked whispers and strong arms around her waist. She stood at the window, brushing her long hair slowly, staring out at the palace courtyard filled with festival clean-up and chirping birds. But everything she saw reminded her of him. Thinking, she recalled: That archway… it's where I first danced as a girl. But last night… that room… his voice… his arms… She shook her head and paced the room. She picked up a book, tried to read. But the pages blurred, the words meaningless. In the hall, Rowan passed by with a guard, laughing softly. She paused, watching him. He was everything kind, everything safe. Yet her heart didn't beat the same way. To herself she said, "Why can't I just love Rowan like I used to…?"
Haunted by Memories - Later in the gardens, Ariana wandered aimlessly. A musician played a slow melody nearby—strangely familiar. Her breath hitched. "…This was the same tune that played… that night in the dungeon," she said softly. She walked faster. The color of a passerby's cloak—black, with silver embroidery—made her heart race. But it wasn't him. Of course it wasn't. Frustrated, she asked herself, "Why do I keep looking for him?" She found herself at the edge of the royal stables—where they had first argued. The night Lucian had nearly kissed her before she escaped. She touched the wooden beam where he'd once leaned, thinking: You were cruel. You terrified me. But… you never touched another. And when I starved, you starved. When I cried… you stayed near.
The Realization - That night, Ariana lay in bed, eyes open in the dark. The moonlight spilled across her bedsheets like silver chains. Whispering, she said, "Do I miss you, Lucian… Or do I miss how you made me feel seen…?" And for the first time in weeks, she whispered his name. Soft. Almost like a wish. "…Lucian."