Beatrice Point of View
Mate.
The word would not cease.
It echoed within my mind as though struck against hollow stone—again and again—unyielding, relentless, a sound that brought neither comfort nor clarity.
Only disturbance.
Only pressure.
Like a blade driven into something soft and unguarded, it pressed against my thoughts, refusing to be ignored.
I drew in a breath, though it did little to steady me.
There was now more to write.
More to confess.
More to burden my parents with.
The very notion unsettled me.
For though it was not unheard of for one to be found by their fated counterpart, it was not a common blessing either. It was spoken of as rare… sacred… something destined to alter the course of one’s life entirely.
And yet—
Of all men fate could have chosen for me…
It h
