Heart over Duty

As the weeks turned into months at the Royal Academy, Lucy's presence grew impossible to ignore. She wasn't the most graceful or intelligent, but her clumsy charm and earnestness had a way of drawing people to her, including the Crown Prince.

The library incident was the first of many moments that etched itself into Cesia's mind. Lucy, balancing a precarious stack of books, stumbled, and before she could fall, Darion was there, steadying her with uncharacteristic swiftness. Their faces hovered inches apart, and Lucy, her cheeks flushed, whispered, "Did you get hurt?"

The innocent sincerity in her voice made something flicker in Darion's otherwise impassive expression. Cesia had watched the entire exchange from a distance, her fingers gripping the book in her lap so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

It was as though the universe had decided Lucy was meant to be at the center of every moment with Darion that mattered.

Shortly afterward, the bullying began. Cesia's so-called friends—noble daughters who basked in her status and sought her approval—took it upon themselves to target Lucy. They spread vicious rumors, calling her a social-climbing commoner who sought to use Darion for power. They sabotaged her belongings, snickering as Lucy struggled to maintain her dignity.

When Cesia discovered what her friends had done, she was horrified. "You will stop this nonsense immediately," she told them, her voice sharper than they had ever heard.

They promised to stop, but the damage was already done. Lucy, once merely an outlier, became a victim in the eyes of the academy. And as Cesia soon realized, there was little room for nuance when it came to public opinion.

The Crown Prince himself, always protective of Lucy, seemed to reach his own conclusion: Cesia was behind the bullying.

"You've changed, Cesia," Darion said one day, his voice cold and accusing. "I never thought you would stoop to such pettiness."

Cesia's throat tightened, her words caught between indignation and despair. She wanted to shout that she had nothing to do with it, that she had tried to stop it, but what good would it do? He had already made up his mind.

From that day on, the label of "villainess" followed her wherever she went. Students whispered as she passed, their gazes filled with judgment. Invitations to social events dwindled. Even her family wrote letters, subtly inquiring why the academy's gossip had reached their ears.

And yet, Cesia did not lash out. She did not scream or cry. When confronted with accusations or prying questions, she simply smiled—an icy, elegant expression that revealed nothing of the turmoil within—and said, "The truth will come out eventually."

But it didn't.

Darion and Lucy continued to grow closer, their interactions littered with serendipitous moments: a stray dog Lucy rescued that Darion praised her for, an impromptu duet at the academy festival that ended with laughter and applause, and countless others.

Meanwhile, Cesia's world crumbled. The friends who once rallied around her grew distant, fearing association with the "villainess." Even her family's letters grew colder, urging her to "correct whatever misunderstanding has occurred."

Still, Cesia clung to one fragile hope: that Darion's infatuation with Lucy was nothing more than a passing whim. She told herself that when their time at the academy ended, reality would return. He was the Crown Prince, and she was his fiancée. His duty, their families' expectations, and the life they had been groomed for would win out in the end.

But that hope was shattered on the night of the graduation ball.

The ballroom was a spectacle of wealth and elegance, its chandeliers casting golden light on a sea of nobles in their finest attire. Cesia had arrived in a gown of crimson and gold, the colors of the Velmont Duchy, prepared to represent her family with pride despite the whispers that followed her.

And then Darion stepped onto the dais, Lucy at his side.

"I have chosen my heart over duty," he declared, his arm wrapped protectively around Lucy's waist. His voice was steady, his expression resolute. "I hereby annul my engagement to Lady Cesia Velmont."

The ballroom erupted in murmurs, a mix of shock and approval rippling through the crowd.

Cesia stood frozen in place, the weight of his words crushing her. Her chest tightened, and tears she couldn't control welled in her eyes. She hadn't prepared for this. She hadn't thought this could truly happen.

Applause broke out—an insult that rang louder than any slap—celebrating Darion's choice to "follow his heart."

Cesia turned and walked out of the ballroom, her heels echoing against the marble floor. She didn't stop until she was outside, the cold night air biting at her skin. The tears she had tried so desperately to hold back spilled over, trailing down her cheeks as she stood beneath the unfeeling stars.

For the first time in her life, Cesia Velmont, the pride of the Velmont Duchy, felt utterly and irrevocably broken.