The morning light crawled across the cracked wall, washing the small room in gold. A kettle

whistled faintly from the kitchen, followed by a sharp voice.

"Milan!"

Amy's tone was clipped - a warning dressed as a call.

Milan stepped out, already dressed for school, her neat braids tied with a faded ribbon. "Yes,

ma'am."

Amy turned from the counter. "You're late. Again."

"I woke early-" Milan cooed. 

"Don't answer back," Amy cut in. Her gaze lingered on Milan's face, that calm softness that mirrored the woman she could never forget. Hussein had broken his vows for that face once - for Sofia, the woman Amy still despised.

She had left him then, twins barely two years old. But when Sofia died, Amy came back, all

smiles and forgiveness. Only Milan knew the truth: she hadn't come back for love, she'd

come back for vengeance cloaked as responsibility.

Amy's voice dropped lower. "If you must speak, keep your voice low. You sound too much like her."

"Yes, ma'am."she replied .

Mikel strolled into the room, tapping at his phone, barely glancing her way. "Try not to slow us down today," he muttered.

Mabel followed, bright eyes darting nervously toward Amy. "Ignore him," she whispered. "He

woke up cranky."

Milan smiled faintly. Mabel squeezed her hand once before letting go.

Outside, the air was warm, filled with the sound of traffic and life.

"Dad said he might come home next week," Mabel said.

Milan smiled softly. "He said that last month."

"Then maybe this time he'll mean it."

Milan didn't reply. Her father, Chef Hussein, worked in the royal kitchens of Azzam Palace.

She hadn't seen him in weeks. Every time his call came, Amy answered first.

At school, Hiba leaned across Milan's desk the moment she sat down. "You look tired," she said.

"I didn't sleep much."

"Let me guess - Amy?"Milan's silence was answer enough.  Hiba huffed. "You should've stayed when my mum offered. We'd have spoiled you by now." She has been her childhood friend . Milan smiled, small but grateful.

Then Hiba's tone shifted, playful. "Anyway, big news! The Crown Prince is back!"

Milan blinked. "Oh."

"Oh?" Hiba gasped. "That's all you have to say? He's literally the most beautiful man in the country!"

"I don't faint for strangers," Milan said, and they both laughed.

That night, the world felt quiet.

The city lights flickered faintly in the distance, and the hum of cars faded as the hours deepened. Amy had gone to bed. The twins' room was silent.

Milan slipped out to the small yard behind the house. The jasmine vines along the fence

swayed in the night air, heavy with scent.

She sat on the old bench, looking up at the pale slice of moon. Then, without thinking, she began to sing.

It was a soft hum at first, then words. 

🎶I could tell what peace is but it hasn't found me ,

🎶I could tell what life is but it hasn't breath in me.

🎶If anyone finds it , Tell it Milan need it

🎶My mother was me before the night day goes dark

🎶My mother named me wishing I would be her

🎶And I realized I was her before the day goes dark.

Her voice was low, delicate, yet it carried emotion that filled the small yard. Not loud enough for the world - just enough for her heart to stop aching for a while. When she finished, she stayed silent, the echo of her

own song still hanging in the air.

Later That Same Night - Across the City

Kamil had already settled back into palace life that week, but tonight he'd escaped for a few

hours - meeting Liam and Abel at his private penthouse downtown.

Liam's music thundered through the sleek glass walls, echoing off marble floors that gleamed under soft golden light.

Kamil arched a brow from the bar counter. "Liam, I said play music, not host a concert."

Liam grinned, tossing a chip into his mouth. "For a prince? You deserve the concert."

Abel, sprawled across the velvet couch, snorted. "More like the encore." Kamil shook his head, laughter slipping through.

"Bro, did you see the headlines?" Abel said, scrolling on his phone. "The Crown Prince

Returns. They make it sound like you just ended a war."

Kamil groaned. "I miss being ordinary."

"You were never ordinary," Abel said. "You just had better disguises."

The three of them laughed - the kind of laughter built on years of shared secrets and

trouble.

Then Liam smirked. "So... back to royal duties, huh? Let me guess - Grandma's already

talking marriage?"

Kamil's silence was answer enough.

Abel leaned forward. "Oh, she definitely did."

"I'm not talking about it," Kamil said simply."Which means you're absolutely thinking about it," Liam teased. Kamil threw a pillow at him.

It was past midnight when Kamil finally decided to head back. The convoy moved smoothly through the quiet city. The window was half open; the night breeze rolled in, warm against his

skin.

He leaned his head back, watching the lights blur past . Then, through the hum of the engine, a faint sound drifted in.

A melody.

Barely audible .

He turned toward the sound - a small neighborhood, a yard faintly lit by the moon. He couldn't make out the words, only the tone: soft, aching, beautiful.

Then it was gone, swallowed by the road's hum.

Kamil stared out for a moment longer before exhaling quietly.

"Everything all right, Your Highness?" the driver asked.

"Yes," he said after a pause. "Just thought I heard something."

It was barely six, yet the day had already begun. Maids glided quietly through the halls, carrying trays and linens. Guards stood at attention near the grand staircase, boots gleaming under the soft amber lights.

The royal convoy eased into the courtyard.Kamil stepped out first - tall, composed, the crisp white of his shirt catching the dim morning glow. The guards bowed in unison.

"Your Highness," one greeted.

Kamil acknowledged with a brief nod and walked past, his presence calm yet commanding . His private wing lay on the east side of the palace, separated from the rest by glass corridors and a stretch of still garden.

Inside, his chambers opened into quiet opulence - smooth marble floors, warm amber lamps, and soft Persian rugs. It was the kind of room that felt like a five-star suite, except it breathed with his scent, his books, his rhythm.

He loosened his cuffs and rubbed the back of his neck, the faintest trace of exhaustion shadowing his features.

A soft chime sounded - the discreet tone from the intercom near his door.

"Your Highness," came the aide's voice, polite and steady. "Her Grace requests your presence in the east hall for breakfast. She said it's important."

Kamil glanced at the clock - 6:02 a.m. A short exhale escaped his lips. "At dawn?"

"She insisted, Your Highness."

"Of course she did." He straightened his sleeves, his expression smoothing into composure before stepping out.

The east hall glowed under crystal light. Long curtains framed the wide windows, and the scent of jasmine tea filled the air. Every detail of the table - gold-trimmed china, glass pitchers, folded napkins . 

At the head sat the Queen Mother Samitra, her silver hair swept neatly beneath a pale silk scarf. Even in stillness, she radiated command.

Beside her sat Queen Ayisha, her beauty serene, the warmth in her eyes softening the edges of the room.Mirian sat quietly near her, posture perfect. And standing by the tall window was Bashi . 

The room shifted subtly as Kamil entered.

"Grandmother," he greeted, bowing slightly before leaning to kiss her hand.

Samitra smiled faintly. "You were out late."

"Just helping my friends settle in at the penthouse," Kamil said, lowering himself into the seat opposite his grandmother.

A faint hum of approval left her lips as a maid refilled her tea. Around them, the dining hall shimmered. Every movement was quiet, practiced, expensive.

"Still loyal," Samitra murmured. "Your father would've liked that."

Bashi lifted his gaze from his cup. "Loyalty is good. But timing is better. The council will be expecting you to sit in today's session."

Kamil turned his head slightly. "I wasn't aware the council needed me for minor trade discussions."

His uncle smiled thinly. "They always need to see their prince." Before the tension could sharpen, a familiar voice filled the hall.

"Kamil!"

Everyone turned as Princess Yaya dashed in, her pink robe swishing behind her like a cape. Her slippers tapped against the marble as she ran straight to him.

"You're eating without me again!" she exclaimed, half scolding, half laughing.

Kamil chuckled, reaching out to pull her close. "You were still asleep, little one."

"I wasn't! I woke up when the maids started talking about your meeting."

"Then you're even earlier than the sun," he teased.Samitra's stern expression softened. "Let her be, Kamil. She's been waiting since dawn, insisting she'll have breakfast only if it's with her brother."

Yaya tilted her chin proudly. "Because he promised to take me riding after the council."

"I remember," Kamil said with a soft smile. "And I keep my promises."

Council Hall – Later That Morning

The council chamber was already alive with quiet murmurs when Kamil entered. The soft click of his polished shoes echoed against marble floors, and the faint scent of oud drifted through the air.

"Your Highness," the councilmen chorused as they rose.

He acknowledged them with a nod and took his place at the head of the table, every movement controlled.

"Let's begin," he said.

Bashi cleared his throat, his voice as smooth as his smile. "Today's agenda concerns the northern trade routes. Kaan has prepared a proposal."

Kaan rose slightly, his tablet glowing faint blue. "The routes have stalled," he began. "Private investors are offering funds to speed construction. In exchange, they'll share partial management of the trade sector."

Several heads nodded, the sound of shifting papers filling the silence. Kamil's gaze remained on the projection. "Partial management," he repeated, tone light but measured. "Meaning we hand over what belongs to the crown."

"Not hand over," Kaan corrected, his grin deliberate. "Partner. Their expertise could push the economy forward."

"And what happens," Kamil asked, "when the partner decides Azzam's pace no longer suits their profit?"

Kaan's grin faltered, just slightly."The crown doesn't trade stability for speed," Kamil continued. "If expansion is slow, we strengthen what we have until it grows on its own. No one outside these walls should have the power to dictate how we build."

Even Bashi paused, the pleasant mask on his face barely moving.

An older councilman shifted forward. "The prince speaks wisely. Sovereignty is not a commodity."

Kamil leaned back, fingers interlaced. "The internal board will handle the routes. I'll review the new proposal before it reaches the council again."

Kaan's tone softened, but his eyes stayed sharp. "Of course, Your Highness."

The doors opened quietly, and Queen Mother Samitra stepped in. She didn't speak - just observed as the council rose again.

"Your Highness," one of them said, "shall we adjourn?"

Kamil's gaze stayed forward. "Yes. The matter's settled."

When the last of the councilmen left, Samitra moved closer.  "You handled them well," she said. "Your father would have been proud."

Kamil's jaw eased. "Let's hope the council shares his opinion."

"They will," she replied. "You just made your first decision as the next king."

He smiled faintly, almost to himself. "Then maybe it's time they start listening like subjects."

Her eyes glinted with  approval.

The East Corridor – Moments Later

The long glass corridor connecting the council chamber to the royal wing shimmered beneath the morning  sun. Outside, fountains whispered across pale marble courtyards, their reflections rippling on the walls like moving silk.

Kamil walked beside the Queen Mother, his pace unhurried, his expression unreadable.

"You've grown into your voice," Samitra said at last, tone soft. "You command the room like your father once did." 

Kamil's lips curved faintly. "You make it sound like a weapon." "In this palace," she replied smoothly, "it is."

  Two guards bowed deeply as they passed. When they were alone again, Samitra's gaze shifted ahead. "The council respects you, but they still see a boy who spent too long abroad. Today helped. Still, power fades when it isn't anchored." 

Kamil glanced sideways. "Anchored how?" Her answer was calmed. "Through alliance. Blood keeps a throne alive, but alliances keep it standing."

Kamil's voice dropped slightly. "You mean marriage." Samitra didn't flinch. "The royal family of Nalal arrives within the week. Jodha will be with them."

"She's grown," Samitra continued, her tone deceptively gentle. "Educated. Poised. The people of Nalal adore her. You two were promised long before you understood what it meant." Kamil's jaw tightened. "And now that I do, I know promises can bind more than they build."  Samitra stopped walking, her silk hem brushing the polished floor. "You think love will rule a kingdom?"

He faced her fully, calm but certain. "No. But neither will duty alone." Then Samitra lifted her hand, resting it lightly on his shoulder, her rings catching the light."Be careful, Kamil," she murmured. "The crown doesn't forgive softness."

His eyes held hers . "Neither does the heart."

She said nothing more. But when she turned away, her reflection in the glass lingered . 

SCHOOL AFTERNOON.

Milan walked briskly down the street with Hiba beside her, the sun low and warm in the morning sky.

"Finally!" Hiba teased. "I thought you'd sleep through the morning again."

"I didn't want to," Milan murmured. "It's quieter this way - before everyone notices me."

Hiba glanced back. "Not everyone notices. Just people with... crowns."

Milan laughed softly, humming a private tune under her breath, the melody only for her.

"Where are Mikel and Mabel?" Hiba asked.

"They left me behind," Milan said quietly. "Mikel refused, and Mabel... she couldn't exactly complain."

Hiba snorted. "Figures. Twins always find a way."

School passed in the usual blur of lessons and chatter. By the time the final bell rang, Milan and Hiba were walking home together.

"Almost there," Hiba said, glancing toward her own street. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Thanks for walking with me," Milan said softly.

Hiba grinned. "Don't let Amy ruin your day before I get home." She waved and turned down a side street, leaving Milan to continue alone. Back at her house, Milan entered the quiet hall. Amy was already there, folding clothes, eyes cold as ever."Milan!" Amy snapped. "Take these to your father at the palace. He was supposed to come by this month, but apparently he's too busy."

Milan froze, hands tightening around the bundle. "Now?"

"Yes. Now," Amy said sharply. The twins lounged nearby - Mabel muttering under her breath, "At least someone's useful," while Mikel scowled in silence.

"I'll be back soon," Milan said softly, tucking the clothes under her arm. She stepped into the streets again, city noise rolling softly around her. Cars hummed, people moved lazily in the golden light, and she hummed her secret tune.

The trip to the palace didn't take long because she had passed through short-cuts. The palace gates opened before her like a dream. Golden sunlight spilled over white marble floors, fountains danced in delicate arcs, and the scent of fresh blooms clung to the air.

 Milan froze, eyes wide, heart hammering.

"I wish... even if it's in the dream", she whispered.

Her fingers tightened on the bundle of clothes. The polished floors reflected her tentative steps, the tall chandeliers scattering prisms across the hall. 

She hummed softly as she hopped and checked around.

🎶I could tell what peace is but it hasn't found me , 🎶I could tell what life is but it hasn't breath in me. 🎶If anyone finds it , Tell it Milan need it. 

 🎶My mother was me before the night day goes dark 🎶My mother named me wishing I would be her 🎶And I realized I was her before the day goes dark.

Somewhere in the garden, Kamil had stepped away from the endless meetings. Preparations for the princess's visit, discussions about protocol.

Then he heard it.

A voice or perhaps "the voice ."

He froze, scanning the courtyards. Nothing but the girl moving gracefully through the marble corridors. The notes floated around her, fading, teasing, lingering.

"Who... is she?" he murmured.

The song ended as she passed a fountain, unaware of him, unaware that her melody had reached him. Kamil stayed rooted in the shadowed greenery, letting the memory of the voice anchor itself in his mind. Milan stopped near the east courtyard, shifting the bundle of folded uniforms in her arms.

Her father's station was somewhere in the lower kitchens, and even though she had been here a few times, the palace still felt like another world.

A guard passed by and gave her a polite nod. She smiled shyly in return, clutching the clothes tighter as she walked deeper in. Every corridor whispered wealth. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and sandalwood, the kind of scent that didn't belong in ordinary homes.

 She wanted to linger. 

To touch the silk drapes, to run her fingers over the cool marble railings. But Amy's voice rang in her memory-Don't dawdle. Drop it off and come home.

She took a breath and hurried on.

From the garden archway, Kamil watched her pass. The girl moved like she didn't belong here but still carried herself with quiet grace. Her humming still lingered faintly in his head, haunting in the best way.

He didn't recognize her. She wasn't one of the palace workers he saw every day. Maybe a servant's daughter. Maybe a visitor. He couldn't tell, but he found himself... curious.

The door to the lower kitchen swung open, and she disappeared inside.

Kamil stayed where he was, his hands buried in his pockets, gaze fixed on the spot she had just left. Then, somewhere behind, his aide's voice broke through.

"Your Highness, the Queen Mother requests your presence in the grand hall."

He blinked once, straightened his collar, and turned away.

"Tell her I'm on my way."

But as he walked back, the melody refused to leave his mind.

Chef Hussein stood at the far counter, his sleeves rolled up, knife in hand as he chopped herbs with the precision of someone who'd done it for decades."Papa," Milan called softly.

He turned - and the exhaustion on his face melted instantly.

"Milan?"

He wiped his hands quickly and came around the table, his broad frame nearly knocking into a young apprentice carrying a tray.

"What are you doing here, my star?"

She smiled, lifting the bundle in her arms. "Mama said you forgot your clothes again."

He laughed, low and warm. "Ah, that woman would remind me even in my sleep." Then his eyes softened. "How are you, hm? Still behaving?"

Milan nodded quickly. "Yes, Papa."

"Eating well?"

A small hesitation. "Sometimes."

He frowned slightly, brushing a curl away from her cheek. "You're getting thinner, Milan.

You're supposed to be growing, not fading."

"I'm fine," she murmured. "School's been busy."

He sighed and turned, setting the folded clothes aside. "You always say that. You work too

hard. You need to laugh more, sing more-"

Her breath caught.

The word sing hung between them like a forbidden thing. Chef Hussein's smile faltered. "Ah," he said softly. "She still forbids it?"

Milan's silence was answer enough.

Before he could say more, one of the maids peeked in through the side door. "Chef Hussein!

The Queen Mother requested the evening menu."

He nodded, his eyes lingering on his daughter. "I'll come right away."Turning back to Milan, he lowered his voice. "Go home before it gets dark, alright? And... if you must sing, do it where no one can hear. For now."

She nodded, blinking fast to hold back the sting in her eyes.

"Good girl," he whispered, kissing the top of her head.

The sounds of the kitchen faded behind her as she walked out , replaced by the distant hum of guards and maids moving about. Just beyond the courtyard, Kamil stood at the grand balcony, unaware that the girl disappearing through the servants' path was the same voice that had stilled his world the night before.