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...

Liam gave her a knowing grin. "You didn't tell her?"

Kamil's face stayed unreadable, though his eyes betrayed a hint of laughter. "Apparently not."

Milan's mouth opened, then closed. "You- you're the prince?"

"I believe that's the rumor," Kamil said softly.

Her heart dropped. "I've been-oh my God- I've been calling you Rami! I complained about you to you!"

Liam chuckled. "She's bold, I'll give her that."

Abel folded his arms, amused. "Bold or doomed."

"Stop," Kamil said quietly, shooting them a warning look before turning back to her. "It's fine, Milan."

"No, it's not fine," she blurted. "I literally said you should smile more! I said-"

"You did," he said, almost smiling now. "And maybe you were right."

She blinked, completely lost between horror and disbelief. "Right?"

He leaned slightly closer, voice low, teasing. "Don't worry. I don't punish honesty."

Behind him, Liam whistled under his breath. "We're definitely staying for this."

Kamil straightened. "You're definitely not."

Liam and Abel exchanged grins and bowed out dramatically.

As the door closed behind them, silence filled the room again.

Milan stared at him, cheeks flushed, fingers twisting at her apron. "You could've told me, you know."

He shrugged lightly. "And miss hearing what you really think of me?""Unbelievable," she muttered, trying not to smile.

"Maybe," he said softly. "But you're the first person in this palace who talks to me like I'm not a crown."

Then she snatched the tray. "Well, Your Highness, I'll just... deliver this and vanish before I accidentally insult another royal."

Kamil's chuckle followed her all the way to the door.

"Don't vanish too far, Milan," he said quietly. "I think I like your honesty."

She froze for half a heartbeat, then hurried out. Kamil stood near the table smiling , still trying to process what had just happened.

Milan's words echoed in his head:

"...today's my birthday, actually. I'm just trying to survive the day without losing my job."

At first, he'd thought he misheard. But her tone had been so casual, so unaware.

The corners of his lips lifted - just slightly.

She didn't know it was his birthday too.

The door slid open again, and in came Liam and Abel - laughing, loud, and perfectly but not out of place as always.

"Careful," Abel said, stepping aside just as Milan nearly brushed past him,bowing slightly and  muttering under her breath. "She almost took me out."

Liam's eyes followed her. "Was that-"

"Yes," Kamil cut in. "Don't ask."

"Then we definitely will," Liam replied, tossing himself onto the couch. "Because you look like you just saw a ghost - or fell in love with one."

"Both sound exhausting," Kamil said dryly.

Abel grinned, placing two boxes on the table. "Then maybe this will wake you up. For the birthday boy and soon-to-be crowned king."Kamil blinked. "You remembered."

"Of course," Liam said. "Your coronation is tomorrow, your birthday's today - how could we forget the royal double feature?"

Abel added, "You're turning twenty, in case you lost count. Time to stop acting fifty."

Kamil rolled his eyes but opened the first box. A sleek black watch gleamed under the light, the kind of thing he'd actually wear.

"Read the engraving," Liam said, grinning.

Inside the clasp: To the prince who measures everything but his own heart. Kamil glanced up, half amused. "You two have too much free time."

"That's called friendship," Abel said, then gestured to the second box - a worn leather journal. "You used to write. We thought maybe you'd start again."

Kamil's fingers lingered on it longer than he meant to. "Thank you," he said softly.

Liam smirked. "So... who was she?"

Kamil frowned. "Who?"

"The maid who just left like her life depended on it."

Abel folded his arms. "You could practically see panic trailing behind her."

Kamil sighed, deciding not to deny it. "She didn't know who I was. Thought my name was Rami."

There was a pause - then Liam's laughter filled the room. "You're joking."

Abel shook his head, amused. "You let her think you were someone else?"

"She introduced herself first," Kamil said flatly. "And I didn't correct her. I didn't think it mattered."

"Until she started calling you by that fake name," Liam teased. "Classic."Kamil's jaw tightened, though a faint smile betrayed him. "She was just delivering something.

Nothing more."

"Sure," Abel said, eyes narrowing. "And I'm the Grand Vizier."

Liam leaned forward, pretending to whisper. "Did she at least compliment your looks?"

Kamil shot him a look. "She cursed me under her breath."

Abel laughed. "That's practically affection."

Kamil rubbed the bridge of his nose. "She mentioned... it's her birthday today."

That silenced them both for a beat.

Liam whistled. "You're telling me the palace maid who doesn't know you're royalty shares your birthday? That's poetic."

Abel tilted his head. "Or fate."

"Don't start," Kamil muttered.

But he was smiling softly a soft. "Still," Abel said, "you could do something nice for her."

Kamil hesitated for half a second, then glanced toward the open window where the faint hum of palace life drifted in. "Send someone to the staff quarters," he said finally. "Find her -

Milan. Get her a birthday gift."

Liam's brows rose. "Define gift."

"Something simple," Kamil said. "But not too simple."

Abel grinned. "Luxurious simple?"

"Exactly."

Liam smirked. "You're impossible. What should we send? Jewelry? Perfume? A car?"

Kamil looked away, thoughtful. "Something she'll actually use - but never be able to afford."

Abel nodded, already pulling out his phone. "Consider it done. The maid has no idea what's about to hit her."

Kamil didn't respond. His mind had already drifted - back to that quiet smile, the nervous laugh, the way she'd said Rami like it belonged to someone real.

Milan got back to her room after the whole activities, tired but that's an understatement because she's so worn out.

Her back ached. Her palms smelled faintly of jasmine soap. And she still couldn't get the stupid mistake out of her head.

Rami.

She groaned under her breath. "Of all people to make friends with, I had to pick the prince."

Hiba, sprawled on Milan's narrow bed, nearly choked on laughter. She had Insisted on staying back as it was her friend's birthday. "You what?"

"Shhh!" Milan threw a towel at her. "Keep your voice down."

"You told the Crown Prince your name was Milan and you called him Rami?"

"I didn't know!" Milan whispered harshly. "He didn't say anything! He even said he worked here!"

Hiba was still giggling. "Well... technically, he does."

"Not funny."

"Oh, it's hilarious. Do you know people get dismissed just for looking him in the eye too long?"

Milan flopped down beside her, face buried in a pillow. "Great. So I'll be unemployed before my first paycheck."

Hiba turned on her side, grinning. "Or promoted. Who knows - maybe he liked you."

Milan lifted her head, glaring. "You need to stop reading those palace romance stories."

Hiba smirked. "You are living one."Before Milan could respond, a knock echoed from outside the servants' quarters.

A crisp male voice followed. "Message for Milan Hussein."

Every head in the room turned.

Milan sat up slowly. "For me?"

The door slid open, and a royal aide stepped in - tall, dressed in silver-trimmed uniform. He carried a small velvet box and a folded card sealed with the royal crest.

"Happy birthday," the aide said simply, handing it to her. "From His Highness.

For a long moment, the room was silent. Even Hiba forgot to breathe.

Milan blinked. "From... who?"

"The Crown Prince," he repeated, bowing before leaving just as swiftly as he came. The moment the door closed, chaos erupted.

"Milan!"

"Oh my God!"

"What did you do?!"

Hiba practically launched herself at her. "Open it! Hurry!"

With trembling fingers, Milan untied the satin ribbon. Inside the velvet box lay a delicate gold bracelet - thin, elegant, with a small charm shaped like a music note.  

Her breath caught. "It's... beautiful."

Hiba snatched the folded card and read it aloud before Milan could stop her.

For the girl who hums when she works. The palace is brighter for it.

There was no signature, but Milan didn't need one.

She knew exactly whose words those were.

Her chest tightened - confusion, warmth, disbelief all tangled together."See?" Hiba whispered, smiling wide. "Told you he liked you."

Milan didn't answer.

She just stared at the bracelet and for the first time since entering the palace, she wasn't thinking about rules, or fear, or rank.

Just that quiet look in his eyes earlier that day.

From the highest balcony, the palace glowed like fire caught in marble. Inside, servants moved like clockwork, draping silk banners and setting gold-trimmed goblets in endless lines. Every corner smelled of lilies and sandalwood.

Kamil's Chamber

The air inside his suite was still, touched only by the scent of cedar and smoke. He stood before a long mirror, half dressed in ceremonial robes of white and gold. Liam sat on a nearby couch, still in pajamas, peeling an orange like it was any other morning.

Abel was already in uniform, flipping through a file. "You'd think the coronation of the Crown

Prince would make you nervous," he said.

"I'm not nervous," Kamil replied.

"You're quiet," Liam teased. "And quiet means thinking, and thinking means trouble."

Kamil glanced up at him through the mirror. "You two talk too much for this early."

Liam grinned. "Blame the nerves. It's not every day your best friend becomes the next King."

Kamil didn't respond immediately. His reflection stared back - the perfectly polished version of himself everyone expected to see.And yet, his mind wasn't on the crown.

It was on a bracelet.

A soft laugh.

He caught himself smiling faintly.

"See?" Abel said, pointing his orange slice like a weapon. "He's smiling again. Definitely trouble."

"Don't start," Kamil muttered, adjusting his cuffs.

Liam leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Speaking of trouble, Princess Jodha sent a note.

She said she'd like to personally congratulate you before the ceremony."

"Let her wait," Kamil said calmly. "It's my day."

Liam and Abel exchanged a glance - that familiar look that said we'll stay out of this one.

A chime rang softly - the coronation bell from the west wing.

Kamil slipped on his signet ring, then turned to them. "Let's go."

The Royal kitchen

Milan was on her feet before sunrise, folding napkins, arranging centerpieces, runnin errands she didn't sign up for. Her hands were sore, her hair barely pinned, and she hadn't eaten since dawn.

But every time she caught a glimpse of her wrist, her chest fluttered in quiet disbelief.

Her father had noticed it earlier that morning.

"Where did you get that?" he'd asked gently, wiping his hands on his apron.

Milan hesitated. "A gift."

"From who?"

She smiled. "A friend."Chef Hussein had looked at her long and hard, but he said nothing. Just smiled faintly, Now, as she rushed through the corridors with a tray of sweetmeats, the whole palace buzzed louder. The corridors were lined with petals; the guests were already arriving - ministers, foreign royals, noble families.

And in the distance, she caught sight of him.

Kamil, walking through the grand hallway in gold and white, a crown resting lightly in his hands, his expression calm but unreadable.

Her heart stopped.

That was Rami.

Her Rami - the man who had helped her carry linen boxes, who listened when she complained, who smiled without judgment.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She quickly turned away before anyone noticed her staring, clutching the tray to her chest like it could hide her.

But the moment she looked down half sad unconsciously humming, she realized the bracelet gleamed.

At that same moment, Kamil paused mid-step.

A familiar sound - soft humming - drifted from the servant's corridor nearby.

Barely audible, but enough to pull a faint smile to his lips.

**

From the highest balcony, trumpets sounded, their echo rolling across the courtyards like Azzam's council, nobles, and foreign dignitaries filled the Grand Hall.

At the center stood Queen Mother Samitra, poised like a statue carved from command. Age hadn't dimmed her sharpness; her presence alone could still still a room. To her right sat Queen Aisha, her expression soft, pride and emotion threading through every breath she took.When the procession doors opened, the crowd rose to their feet.

Kamil entered in full regalia - the royal robe heavy with the bloodline's crest, his crown resting in the hands of the High Cleric. 

"All rise for His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Abdul-Kamil Azzam, heir of the late King Ziyad, son of the throne, protector of the realm."

The chant rippled across the room.

From the side, Bashi watched, jaw tight. His smile was polite. He clapped with everyone else, though his hands lacked conviction. Beside him, his son Kaan leaned slightly forward, his gaze dark, unreadable.

"That crown should've stayed in Ziyad's bloodline," Kaan muttered under his breath.

Bashi's fingers brushed the air in warning. "Patience, son. The crown weighs heavy. Let it bend him first."

At the altar, Kamil knelt.

The choir quieted.

Queen Mother Samitra stepped closer, her voice carrying through the golden hall.

"By the blood that built Azzam, by the ancestors who guard our name, we crown thee -

Abdul-Kamil Ziyad Azzam - the rightful ruler of this kingdom. May your reign be just, your heart unshaken, your soul bound to peace."

The crown was lowered.

The hall erupted - a sea of voices, claps, cheers.

Kamil rose, the weight of the kingdom upon his head, the world shifting beneath his feet.

From her seat, Queen Aisha wiped a tear discreetly. Pride glowed on her face.  To her, this boy wasn't just a prince. He was family. A piece of her heart.

Beside her, Mirian smiled - perfectly poised, graceful, unreadable.

Her mother's eyes glowed with pride for Kamil, and Mirian didn't resent it - not truly. QueenAisha had always loved Kamil as her own, just as she loved her . But love didn't silence longing.

As the hall cheered, Mirian's gaze lingered on the man beneath the crown.

The way he never noticed how her heart changed whenever he entered a room.

She told herself this was his moment that she would not let anyone see what lived behind her calm smile.

Still, as the crown settled on his head, the thought burned quietly, secretly:

He's my brother in name... but my heart never learned the rule.

"Long live King Abdul-Kamil of Azzam!" the High Cleric declared.

"Long live the King!" the court echoed.

Even Liam and Abel, standing at the far end among foreign dignitaries, joined the cheer, their smiles genuine.

The new King bowed slightly to his people, but his eyes - for just a second - drifted toward the servant section of the hall.

Milan stood there, half-hidden behind the crowd, clutching a tray to her chest.

**

The night after the coronation, the royal banquet hall pulsed with low laughter, music, and the kind of conversations that always meant more than what was said.

King Kamil sat at the head of the long table, posture precise, voice calm, the weight of rule already settling around him like another layer of silk and steel. To his right, Queen Mother Samitra sat proud, To his left, Queen Aisha, glowing with quiet affection, occasionally whispered small reminders that only a mother would thin to say - eat something, smile, don't overthink.

Across from them sat the guests from Nalal and Princess Jodha, and her attendants. She was smiling.

Her eyes found Kamil often. And stayed there.

At the far end of the hall, near the columns, Milan adjusted the silver tray in her hands. She'd been reassigned to serve in the royal dining section - "temporary," they said, since the regular staff was handling the diplomatic guests.Temporary.

Yet her hands wouldn't stop trembling.

It wasn't the king that made her nervous - it was the memory of the man she'd met days ago.

Rami.

The quiet stranger who'd smiled faintly when she'd complained about the "spoiled prince."

And now, that "stranger" sat under a crown.

She hadn't dared to look directly at him since the ceremony. The few times she tried, her chest tightened and she turned away quickly.

"Stop fidgeting," one of the older maids hissed. "You're shaking the goblets."

"Sorry," Milan whispered, steadying the tray.

At the high table, Liam leaned toward Abel, voice low.

"She's staring at him again."

Abel didn't glance up. "Which one?"

"The princess, obviously. Look at her - she's two seconds away from proposing."

Abel smirked. "Or assassinating him. Can't tell with her type."

Kamil's voice cut through softly, without looking at them.

"I can hear both of you."

Liam grinned. "Then at least you know we're honest."

Queen Aisha chuckled softly at that, hiding it behind her glass.

Even Samitra's lips twitched.

But when Jodha leaned closer to Kamil, lowering her tone, "Your Majesty," she said smoothly,

"Nalal looks forward to a future where our two kingdoms are... bound.

Your father once spoke of unity. I hope we can fulfill that vision." Bashi, seated nearby, lifted his glass in silent approval. "A wise sentiment, Princess." Kaan smirked beside him. "And a beautiful one." Kamil didn't look away from Jodhabut his answer was measured.

"Azzam values its alliances. But we don't rush into vows - political or otherwise." 

Her smile froze just for a second.Across the hall, Milan felt her knees weaken. She'd just realized Jodha was looking at the king the same way everyone else did - like he belonged to her.

She didn't know why that thought stung.

He wasn't hers.

He was never meant to be.

And yet...

When she looked up and caught him glancing her way ,the world around her blurred.

Kamil's gaze lingered, subtle, unreadable.

Milan's breath caught. She quickly turned away, almost bumping into another maid.

"Careful!" the woman hissed. "You'll spill on the king!"

At the head of the table, Liam noticed and tried to hide a smirk.

"Still think it's just curiosity?" he whispered.

Kamil didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

The way his eyes followed her across the hall said everything words couldn't.

When the feast ended and the guests began to drift toward the ballroom, Kamil stood to leave. Jodha extended her hand first, but he only offered a polite bow before stepping past her.

Queen Aisha caught the small gesture, her eyes narrowing slightly - she knew that look.

She'd seen it once before, years ago, when first her late husband fell for a girl beneath his station. It never ended quietly.

From the balcony above, Queen Mother Samitra watched it all - the princess's failed charm, the glances Kamil thought no one saw, the subtle burn in Mirian's eyes as she watched, silent and beautiful.She turned toward Bashi, her tone soft but edged. 

"Power doesn't always fall from bloodlines, brother. Sometimes, it's stolen by the heart."Bashi smiled thinly. "Then perhaps your grandson should guard his."