From her suite balcony, Princess Jodha watched the palace gardens sway beneath her.

Her reflection in the mirror behind her wore calm perfection, diamonds burning like fire at her throat. But her mind was elsewhere.

Prince Kamil

The man everyone whispered about.

He was colder than she expected, sharper too. Every word from him felt measured. And yet...

there was something underneath it.

And it wasn't for her.

She saw it at dinner - that fleeting drift of his eyes, as if something else had caught his thoughts.

She hated that she noticed.

"Your Highness?" her handmaid, Zara, stepped inside carefully. "The council has sent the schedule for tomorrow."

"Leave it on the table," Jodha said absently.

Zara hesitated. "There's also... something you might want to know."

That made Jodha turn.

"One of the kitchen girls was talking earlier," Zara continued carefully. "She said the Crown Prince was seen at the east wing garden yesterday evening... speaking with a maid."

Jodha's voice stayed even. "And?""They said he smiled," Zara said, lowering her eyes.

The silence stretched.

Jodha's rings glinted as her fingers brushed against her wrist. "A maid?"

"Yes, Your Highness. A new recruit. " Zara stopped. "-Same one who apparently bumped into the prince a few days ago."

Jodha turned back to the window, her face unreadable.

"How amusing," Jodha said softly. "The help seems to find favor in unexpected places."

"Shall I... look into her?" Zara asked quietly.

Jodha's lips curved "Yes," she said finally. "Find out her name. Her family. Everything."

She turned away, the evening light cutting across her gown like fire. "If she thinks this palace is her fairytale, let's see how quickly dreams burn in Azzam."

In two days, Kamil would be crowned as Azzam's youngest ruler.

She sat by her vanity, letting her maid pin emeralds into her dark hair.

Her reflection smiled faintly, though her eyes were distant.

She wasn't thinking about the coronation. She was thinking about him.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

Zara, her handmaid, stepped in quietly and bowed.

"Your Highness... a small report came from the servant's hall. I thought you might want to hear."

Jodha's eyes flicked toward the mirror. "A report?""Yes," Zara said carefully. "It's about the maid - Milan. She... shares the same birthday as the Crown Prince. The servants are talking about it."

Jodha's expression sharpened. "The same day?"

"Yes, Your Highness. A days from now."

"Interesting," she murmured, twisting an earring between her fingers.

"Does the prince know?" she asked.

"No, Your Highness. It's just gossip among the staff."

Jodha smiled, slow and deliberate. "Then let's keep it that way."

Zara hesitated. "Should I tell the Queen Mother?"

"Not yet," Jodha said, turning back to her mirror. "Let them celebrate their little servant birthdays. The palace has bigger things to worry about."

Her voice was calm, "I don't like coincidences." Especially ones that sounded like destiny.

Down in the servants' quarters, the air buzzed with energy of a different kind.

Milan adjusted her apron and brushed flour off her sleeves as she hurried between the kitchens. Her father's laughter echoed from the far end giving instructions to the palace cooks.

"Add more saffron! His Highness prefers it mild, not drowning!" he called out, ladle in hand.

Milan grinned softly. "You say that like you're the one getting crowned, Father."

He turned, mock-offended. "And why not? I've served three crowns in this palace. That's longer than most nobles have held their titles."

She laughed, stepping closer to hand him a bowl. "Then maybe they should be bowing to you.""Don't tempt me," he said with a wink.

Then his tone softened. "Two days, eh? Your birthday again. Seems like just yesterday your mother was-"

He stopped. The smile faltered. They both knew how the sentence ended.

Milan squeezed his hand gently. "She'd be proud, Father."

He nodded once, then cleared his throat quickly. "You should be in the east wing by now. The decorators are waiting for extra help. Go before I get scolded for keeping you."

She smiled, kissed his cheek, and turned to leave.

As she walked through the hall, the air shimmered with noise , the sound of a thousand dreams colliding in one palace. She didn't notice the man watching from the upper balcony - his robe unbuttoned at the collar, his expression unreadable.

Kamil leaned against the marble rail, eyes following her for a heartbeat too long.

Liam's voice broke the silence beside him. "You're staring again."

Kamil didn't answer.

Abel chuckled from behind. "At least this time, it's daylight."

Kamil's gaze didn't move. "She said her name's Milan."

"Ah," Liam said, pretending to think. "The one who nearly started a court scandal."

"She didn't start anything."

Abel smirked. "Defensive already. Should we alert the Queen Mother?"

Kamil turned to them with a quiet warning in his tone. "Don't."

They exchanged glances - half teasing, half serious."You know," Liam said, "Jodha won't take kindly to any rumor that involves another girl.

Especially not now."

"I know," Kamil said simply.

He turned back toward the courtyard - where Milan was now helping the florists arrange golden petals by the fountain.

He didn't understand why he suddenly wished the coronation would take longer to come.

Just two days before the crown would change everything.

And for reasons he couldn't explain, Kamil had a feeling the quietest girl in the palace would somehow be right in the middle of it.

Kamil had just dismissed his guards when Queen Ayisha stepped into his lounge. Liam and Abel had excused themselves to attend the royal council meeting in his place. .

He straightened immediately. "Mother," he greeted with quiet respect. Even tho she wasn't his mother by blood, kamil had alwys held her in high esteem and Ayisha had alwys shown him nothing but pure love. 

She smiled faintly. "You still stand like your father when you're lost in thought."

He exhaled softly. "Am I that easy to read?"

"To me, yes," she said, walking closer. "You've been quieter than usual, even for you."

He hesitated, gaze dropping to the window. "Just... thinking about what's coming. The council, the ceremony, the expectations."

Ayisha placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You were born for this, Kamil. And your father would've said the same."

He smiled faintly. "You sound too sure."

"I have to be," she said with a teasing glint. "Someone has to believe in you when you forget to believe in yourself."For a moment, silence stretched.

Then she said softly, "I heard about the new maid. The one who... bumped into you."

Kamil's eyes flickered. "Is there anything you don't hear?"

Ayisha chuckled. "Not in this palace. Don't look so alarmed, my son. It's nothing scandalous. You're human before you're a crown."

"I wasn't-" 

"-interested?" she finished for him, amused. "Of course not."

Kamil shook his head, though a small, helpless smile tugged at his lips. "She doesn't even know who I am."

"That might be what you like most about her," Ayisha said knowingly. "It's rare for anyone to speak to you as just... a person."

He didn't answer. He didn't need to. The truth hung in the quiet between them.

"Your father used to sneak away to the gardens too," she murmured. "Said the crown felt lighter when he was near the lilies."

Kamil smiled faintly. "Then maybe I'm not so different from him after all."

"No," Ayisha said, looking at him with soft pride. "You're not."

Meanwhile, in another wing of the palace, Mirian walked briskly down the hall, her heels striking the marble with restrained anger. The decorators had just left the ballroom.

She was halfway through checking the guest list when a voice called out from behind.

"Busy as always, cousin."

Kaan.

Mirian's spine stiffened before she turned. "Shouldn't you be helping your father with the coronation preparations?"Kaan leaned lazily against a column, that half-smirk playing on his lips.

 "Oh, I am helping by making sure our future king doesn't make a fool of himself."

Her gaze hardened. "You're treading dangerous ground."

He tilted his head. "Am I? You defend him so fiercely, it makes me wonder..." He stepped closer, voice dropping. 

"Is it duty that drives you, or something softer?"

Mirian's jaw tightened. "Watch your words."

"I only say what everyone sees," he murmured. "You think no one notices the way you look at him?"

Her chest rose sharply, but she didn't back down. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, I do," Kaan said, amusement curling through his tone. "You wear your heart like a crown you'll never get to wear."

She forced herself to breathe. "You hate him because he doesn't notice you exist. Don't make the rest of us suffer for that."

For a second, his smirk faltered "Careful, Mirian. In this palace, loyalty and love are the quickest ways to ruin."

When he finally walked off, she stood there, pulse racing, the echo of his words clinging to the silence.

She hated how much truth they almost carried.

Because even after all her denial, she did look for Kamil in every hall.

Queen Aisha had excused himself to go attend the women's forum with Queen mother. She promised to come back and continued their conversation.

"You're not smiling ," she said behind kamil as he stared through the glass.

He turned slightly. Queen Ayisha approached, She stopped beside him, her presence instantly easing the air."I'm thinking again ," he said simply.

"About the ceremony or the crown?"

"Both," Kamil admitted. "It feels... heavy already."

Ayisha smiled faintly. "Good. If it feels heavy, you'll wear it right."

He glanced at her "You always know what to say."

"That's what mothers do."

He smiled at that, quietly. "Thank you... for everything."

She looked at him for a long time. "You've grown into the kind of man your father would be proud of, Kamil. Don't let the noise around you make you doubt that."

"I won't."

"Good," she said softly, then her tone lightened. "Now tell me - is it true you made the decorators change the color scheme three times?"

Kamil gave a helpless laugh. "They wanted red curtains, Your Grace. I said no."

"And why?"

He smirked faintly. "Because red is for war. Not for kings who want peace."

Ayisha's eyes softened. "You really do think differently."

"Or I just think too much."

Before she could respond, the door opened, and Yaya burst in , her gold earrings bouncing as she ran toward them.

"Grandmother says the doves for the release arrived!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder. "There are so many - can I feed them?"

Ayisha chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Only if you promise not to name them again." 

"But I already did!" Yaya grinned proudly. "One is Kamil Junior."

Kamil groaned. "Please tell me it's at least a handsome bird."

"It's the fattest one!"

Ayisha laughed , warm, unrestrained, motherly.

Milan stirred awake to the sound of her father's voice.

"Rise and shine, birthday girl."

Her eyes blinked open. "Papa?"

Hussein stood in the doorway, holding a small covered plate. His apron was already dusted with flour, his smile tired but warm. "You think I'd forget? You've been reminding me since you were five."

Milan sat up, rubbing her eyes. "You remembered?"

He laughed softly and set the plate on her little table. "I made basbousa - just a piece. If the head chef catches me using royal almonds for my daughter, I'll lose my job."

Milan grinned, eyes bright. "Then I'll save you half."

"Half?" he said, pretending to look offended. "You've changed."

She hugged him before he could say more, burying her face in his chest. "Thank you, Papa."

When she finally pulled back, he brushed her hair gently. "You should get ready. I heard the crown prince's coronation will happen soon. Everyone's busy. Don't be late for duty today. the Queen Mother's wing is chaos."

"I won't."

As he left, Hiba appeared at the door, grinning wide, arms full of fruit baskets."Happy birthday, troublemaker," she whispered loudly.

"Hiba!" Milan gasped. "You came?"

Hiba placed the baskets down and shrugged. "My father's store got the contract to supply the palace for the coronation. I told him I'd handle delivery."

"You just wanted to sneak in."

"Exactly," Hiba said proudly. "Now hurry. You're turning nineteen and working in a royal palace. That deserves a smile, not that sad little frown."

Milan laughed, pushing her friend playfully. "You're impossible."

"True," Hiba said, scanning the small room. "You think the prince will notice you today?"

Milan blinked. "Why would he?"

"Oh, I don't know," Hiba teased. "Maybe because you accidentally walked into him last week and the story's all over the town?"

Milan groaned, covering her face. "Please tell me that's not true."

"Oh, it's very true. Even the laundry maids call you 'the brave one.'"

"Hiba!"

Her friend burst out laughing. "Don't worry. Maybe he forgot."

Milan rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. "I doubt princes forget people who nearly made them spill tea."

"Well," Hiba said, gathering the empty trays, "just in case he remembers - don't trip today.

You've got enough legends attached to your name already."

Milan laughed again, shaking her head. As her friend left,

Nineteen. 

She whispered it to herself like a promise.

Then tied her hair, straightened her back heading to the kitchen for work .

Kamil sat behind his desk, jacket loosened, a cup of qahwa half-finished beside him. He has been too busy to get his birthday celebration. The hum of the air system was the only sound until a soft buzz came from the intercom on the wall - three polite tones.

He pressed the button. "Yes?"

"Princess Jodha requests permission to see you, Your Highness," came the guard's voice.

Kamil hesitated for a beat. "Let her in."

The glass door slid open with a faint hiss.

Jodha stepped inside, She smiled as though she already belonged there.

"I thought I'd find you here,even on your birthday, you're working extra hard." she said softly.

"It's too quiet tonight."

Kamil didn't look up from his files. "That's how I prefer it.Thank you , princess ."

She came closer. "Quiet can be lonely."

"Not when you've learned to live with it."

Her smile deepened, her tone lowering. "You shouldn't have to."

He finally looked at her. "You seem to mistake solitude for suffering."

Jodha tilted her head. "And you mistake attention for weakness."

Her perfume hung lightly in the air as she circled the desk. "The coronation approaches.

Everyone speaks of you. You should let someone... ease the pressure."

"You mean distract me."

"If that's what it takes."

Her hand brushed the corner of his desk - deliberate, graceful.

He stood before she could reach further. "You're crossing lines you don't understand.""Then draw them for me," she whispered.

Before he could respond, the intercom buzzed again.

He pressed the button. "Yes?"

"Lady Mirian requests entry, Your Highness."

"Allow her."

The glass door parted again, and Mirian stepped in, holding a digital tablet. Her posture was perfect, her tone calm. "Your Highness, the updated trade report from the council."

Her gaze flicked briefly toward Jodha - polite, unreadable.

Jodha smiled, slow and sharp. "I seem to have interrupted royal business."

"Not at all," Kamil said coolly. "You were just leaving."

Jodha's eyes lingered on him a second longer than necessary before she turned and glided toward the exit. "We'll continue this conversation another time."

"Perhaps," Kamil replied.

The door closed behind her, sealing the tension with it.

Mirian placed the tablet on the desk. "Should I have scheduled her visit, Your Highness?"

He exhaled softly. "No. She doesn't take schedules seriously."

Mirian's lips curved faintly. "Neither do you, sometimes. You barely have time to attend to the guest present for your birthday."

He looked up at her - amused. "That's bold tho, I had to do what needs to be done .

Responsibility comes first ."

"It's true."

She hesitated, fingers brushing the edge of the tablet. "There's... been talk about the maid.

The one who bumped into you. The rumor's reaching people it shouldn't."Kamil's expression sharpened. "Let them talk."

"Even if it reaches the Queen Mother?"

He paused, then leaned back slightly. "You've heard something."

"I hear everything," she said quietly. "Including that Princess Jodha wasn't pleased."

He studied her for a moment. "And what do you think?"

Mirian's voice lowered. "I think you should be careful what - and who - you protect.

Especially now."

He gave a small nod. "You've always been honest."

She smiled faintly. "Someone has to be."

When she left, the door sealed soundlessly again. Kamil glanced at the untouched qahwa, then at the empty space Jodha had stood in moments before.

By noon, Milan was right in the middle of endless work - sleeves rolled, hair escaping her scarf, muttering curses under her breath as she carried a tray of silver dishes.

"Of all days..." she grumbled, dodging a guard. "Why today? Why me?"

The head maid had fallen ill, and the kitchen had gone into panic. Someone needed to deliver the afternoon refreshments to the prince's private wing - and of course, it had to be her.

"I don't even know the way to that side of the palace anymore," she whispered to herself, balancing the tray. "If I get lost, I'm blaming whoever this mysterious prince thinks he is-"

"-dangerous words for someone walking into his corridor," came a familiar, calm voice.

Milan froze.

He was there again - Rami. The quiet, polite man she'd met days ago near the garden paths.

The one she'd quickly grown comfortable around.

"Rami!" she hissed in relief. "Oh, thank heavens. I thought I'd end up in the wrong wing again ."

He tilted his head slightly, amusement glinting in his eyes. "Still getting lost, I see."

"Don't start," she said, lowering the tray to the marble console nearby. "You have no idea

how crazy it's been. The head maid's sick, the cooks are shouting, and apparently, the prince is the most difficult man in the kingdom."

"Is that so?" he murmured, lips twitching.

"Oh, you've no idea," she continued, completely unaware. "They say he never smiles, never talks to anyone unless necessary, and people tremble when he walks past. Honestly, who behaves like that? It's just a crown, not a curse!"

Rami-Kamil-bit back a laugh. "You sound... brave for someone saying that inside his palace."

"I'm just saying what everyone else whispers," Milan said, her voice rising with each word. "If I ever meet him, I'll tell him to loosen up a little. Maybe try smiling or something."

Kamil arched an eyebrow. "You'd tell the Crown Prince that?"

"Of course," she said boldly, folding her arms. "He might need someone to remind him he's human too."

Before he could respond, the private door slid open with a soft hum.

Liam's voice filled the room before his body even appeared. "Your Highness, we've got the-"

He stopped mid-sentence. Abel stepped in behind him, taking in the sight: Kamil standing by the window, a maid clutching a tray, both looking very... caught.

Liam's lips curved slowly. "Oh. I see we're busy."

Milan blinked. "Your... what?"

Abel smirked and bowed slightly. "Forgive us, Your Highness. We didn't realize you had company."

The tray nearly slipped from Milan's hands.

Her voice caught in her throat. "Your... what did he jus...