Princess Lydia

Time seemed to slow the moment Lydia stepped into the room.

The sound of the herald's announcement still hung in the air, but everything else the hum of conversation, the gentle strains of the quartet, even the subtle clinking of glasses faded into the background.

My gaze locked onto her the second she entered, and it was as though the world narrowed to just her.

Lydia.

It had been four years since I last saw her, but the passage of time had only added to her beauty, refining it into something utterly captivating. She didn't just enter the room; she commanded it, her presence drawing every eye like moths to a flame.

Her gown was a masterpiece, a shimmering cascade of silver and pale blue that clung to her body in all the right places.

The fabric was intricate, embroidered with delicate patterns of leaves and flowers that caught the light with every step she took.