Contract

The door clicked softly behind her, sealing Aurora in the silence of her room. She took a few steps, each one feeling heavier, her chest tightening as she tried to gather her thoughts. Her heart was pounding, raw and exposed, as the magnitude of her father’s words replayed in her mind. The walls of her room, once her haven, now felt like a cage.

Aurora moved slowly to her bed, almost as if in a trance, and sat on its edge, hands gripping the coverlet. Her gaze drifted to the distant mountains outside her window, the sun slipping below the horizon, painting the sky in colours that felt too beautiful, too serene for the storm raging inside her. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and then another, until her quiet grief gave way to soft, broken sobs that filled the silence.

She had been taught to carry herself with grace and strength, to stand tall as the future leader of Dysheria. But here, behind closed doors, in the solitude of her own space, she allowed herself to feel. The ache of betrayal, the weight of sacrifice, all of it crashed over her, suffocating and unrelenting. How could she be expected to give up her dreams, her freedom, her future? For the sake of the kingdom, her father had said, his voice firm yet trembling.

As dawn crept into the room, casting faint rays of light on her tear-streaked face, a soft knock echoed from the door. Aurora blinked, still dazed, and wiped her face hastily before opening it. Her father stood there, the familiar lines of strength on his face softened by an exhaustion that mirrored her own. His eyes were swollen, and for a moment, she could see the weight he bore, the agony that lay beneath his calm façade.

He stepped inside, and neither of them spoke. Instead, he simply looked at her, his gaze heavy with regret. “Aurora,” he began softly, as though the very word hurt him to say, “it’s time.” His hands, steady yet fragile, extended a thin sheet of parchment towards her.

Aurora’s gaze fell to the paper in his hand, the words blurred slightly from tears she had yet to shed. Her heart pounded, the reality of the contract staring back at her. It was simple and concise. Just a few strokes of ink, a handful of words binding her to Lucian Diaz, a man she had never met. A man whose name alone carried whispers of power and fear.

“You… you’re asking me to give my life to him?” Her voice was barely a whisper, her fingers trembling as she reached for the paper.

Her father’s face softened, the lines around his mouth tightening as he searched for the right words. “Aurora, we cannot risk Dysheria’s future. Not after everything we’ve built, after all the sacrifices… your mother, she gave everything to see this kingdom thrive.” He paused, taking a shuddering breath. “Lucian Diaz isn’t just any man. He holds sway over people, over empires. His reach could bring ruin… or protection. And right now, protection is what we need.”

She took a shaky breath, every fibre of her being wanting to scream, to fight. But the memory of her mother lingered, her face etched in her mind—a woman who had given her own life to ensure Aurora’s future, to keep Dysheria safe. And now it was her turn.

She forced herself to look up, meeting her father’s gaze. “If I sign this… if I marry him… will it truly save us?”

A brief shadow flickered across his eyes, but he nodded. “I believe it will. I wouldn’t ask this of you otherwise.” He lowered his head, his voice barely a murmur. “But the choice is yours, Aurora. I won’t force you.”

A bitter laugh escaped her. “Is it a choice?” Her fingers tightened on the pen, her heart racing as she thought of all she was giving up. Her dreams, her freedom, her life as she knew it. With a trembling hand, she pressed the pen to the paper, feeling as if a piece of herself was slipping away with each stroke of ink.

When she was done, she stared down at the signature, her name glaring back at her. Aurora Dysheria. A future queen, a daughter, and now… a bride to a stranger.

She handed the contract back to her father, her gaze dropping to the floor, too ashamed, too heartbroken to meet his eyes. For a moment, he reached for her hand, his touch warm, familiar, yet somehow distant. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, barely audible. And with that, he turned, leaving her alone once more.

Moments later, her door opened again. This time, it was her maid, her hands trembling as she carried a white gown, delicate and laced, shimmering faintly in the morning light. Aurora’s eyes fell on the gown, her heart sinking deeper. So it was real. They were moving forward, with no hesitation, no delay. The gown felt soft as it slipped over her shoulders, but its weight was unbearable, a reminder of what she’d just done.

Her reflection in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. The woman staring back at her looked poised, regal… but there was a hollowness in her eyes, a silent scream that no one would ever hear.

When the preparations were complete, her guards arrived, led by Raphael, the man who had stood by her side through every hardship. His face was grim, his eyes mirroring her sorrow as he took in her appearance.

“Raphael…” She reached for him, clutching his arm, her last anchor in a world that was slipping away. “Please… don’t let them take me.”

He shook his head, his expression tight with pain. “I’m so sorry, my lady. I wish I could… but I have my orders.”

Her chest tightened, but she nodded, understanding his loyalty, even as it broke her heart. She tried to hold onto him a moment longer, but he gently pulled away, his fingers lingering on hers, a silent goodbye.

Outside, a car waited, gleaming black and sombre against the pale morning. Her steps were slow, and deliberate, every movement filled with the weight of finality. She glanced back, one last look at the palace, the home she was leaving behind. The doors, the windows, the memories—all fading as she stepped into the vehicle.

As the car began its journey, Aurora felt her hand slipping into her pocket, reaching for her phone. She had friends, people who would understand, people she wanted to say goodbye to. But her father’s orders echoed in her mind: “No one must know.” She clenched her hand, tucking the phone away, her last hope for comfort denied.

The scenery blurred past the window, her familiar world slipping into a vague memory. With every mile, her heart grew heavier, as if a piece of herself were left behind with every passing second. She closed her eyes, leaning back against the seat, the sound of the engine filling the hollow silence. There was no turning back now.

This was her life. A life bound to Lucian Diaz, a life that was no longer her own. And as she took a shuddering breath, she realized that she was truly, utterly alone.