THE PRICE OF HER CROWN

WHERE TRUST TASTED SWEET

It was just past 7:00 a.m. when my phone buzzed beside my pillow. The sun was barely up, painting the edges of my bedroom in soft golden hues. I stretched lazily, still tucked into the silk sheets of my king-sized bed, and reached for the phone without checking the caller ID. I already knew who it was. “Good morning,” Michael’s voice came through, warm and steady like always. “I was thinking… how about we hang out later today?” A smile curled on my lips before I could even respond. “You’re starting to make this a habit,” I teased. “Well, I figured we’re overdue. And I found this new spot I think you’d really like,” he said, sounding a bit more eager than usual.

I glanced at the time, then back at the day ahead. “It’s Wednesday. I should be free by five. I’ll give you a call when I’m wrapping up. Maybe we could meet at the usual place first?”

“Perfect,” he replied. “I’ll be waiting.” The rest of the day dragged slower than usual. Maybe it was the quiet anticipation or just the way Michael’s voice had settled in my head. By the time the clock blinked 4:45 p.m., I was already slipping into a sleek but casual beige dress, simple heels, minimal makeup. Nothing too flashy. Just enough and I called him at 5:03. He was already at the restaurant when I arrived. That small place downtown had become ours a place where silence was comfortable and laughter came easy. When I walked in, he stood up, giving me that same look he always did, like he saw more than I ever said.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

I smiled. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.Micheal replied”

We ordered coffee and sat for a while, talking about nothing and everything, the kind of talk that felt like home. But tonight, something about him was different. He was quieter. More attentive. Like he was preparing for something.

Then he said it.

“There’s this new restaurant I came across. It’s a bit more… upscale, but I think you’d like it. Wanna check it out?”

I hesitated for a moment. He knew I wasn’t the “night-out” type. I wasn’t one to chase new places or fancy dining trends, despite my luxurious life. The irony was that even with all I owned, I preferred the quiet spots, the familiar corners. But something about the way he asked made me say yes.

“Sure. Let’s go.”

He looked surprised pleasantly so and a few minutes later, we were back in his car, heading uptown.

“Claire,” he said after a stretch of silence, “can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

He didn’t ask right away. Just kept his eyes on the road, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel.

“Have you ever really told anyone what your past looked like? I mean... before we met?”

I turned to the window, watching the city lights flicker as we drove by.

“No,” I said quietly. “Not really.”

And he said it's fine, he hold my hands with one of his hands while he controls the steering with the other, The feelings i got from his soft hands touch made me felt like he was just trying to console me about something he barely has any idea about. Within 30 minutes of quiet conversation and shared glances, the car slowed to a stop in front of a tall glass building with soft lights glowing behind ivory curtains. The sign read “Lumé.”

“This is it,” Michael said, parking gently.

I stepped out, and for a moment, I simply stood there, stunned. The restaurant looked like something out of a dream elegant yet warm, quiet but filled with soft music and golden light. The entrance had this subtle floral scent that wrapped around you like a memory. The tables were set with crisp white linens, low candles flickering between wine glasses, and every corner felt like someone had designed it just for me.

I looked at Michael, surprised. “How did you know this is my kind of place?”

He shrugged with a grin. “I pay attention.” Something in my chest fluttered an unfamiliar warmth I couldn’t quite name.

The night moved smoothly after that. We talked, we laughed, and for the first time in a while, I let go. I let myself enjoy. The wine kept coming red, sweet, and rich and Michael kept pouring. I didn’t even count the glasses. I just drank. Drank like my soul needed it. Like I was sipping freedom, comfort, and something dangerously close to love. He kept watching me smiling, amused at how easily I was letting my walls fall. By the fourth glass, I was barely holding onto my thoughts. The music blurred. The candles softened. My voice felt light, my head heavier. I remember giggling over nothing. I remember him brushing my hand. I remember saying I didn’t want the night to end. And then… everything fade.