Chapter four
1064 Words
Chapter 4: The Unexpected Encounter
The palace gates of Xenovia loomed tall and imposing as Stacy’s car rolled to a halt. She adjusted her blazer, exhaling slowly. The grandeur of the palace brought back a flood of memories—of sunny afternoons spent exploring its vast gardens with Zack, laughing over silly dreams of the future. But now, the reality was far from those carefree days. She was here on business, not nostalgia, and certainly not to revisit old wounds.
“Stay focused,” Stacy muttered to herself as she stepped out of the car. She glanced back at the backseat to make sure everything was in order, completely unaware of the mischievous five-year-old hiding just out of sight.
Layla, crouched low behind the driver’s seat, grinned triumphantly as the car door shut. Once Stacy and the palace attendant were out of sight, she slipped out of the vehicle, clutching her stuffed bunny like a co-conspirator.
“This is going to be so much fun,” she whispered, her eyes lighting up as she took in the grandeur of the palace.
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Stacy was ushered inside by a royal attendant who led her through the opulent halls toward the East Wing. The palace was breathtaking, with its gilded ceilings, sparkling chandeliers, and intricate tapestries depicting Xenovia’s rich history. Stacy couldn’t deny the magnificence of it all, even if it stirred feelings she’d rather not confront.
“This way, Ms. Velmont,” the attendant said, gesturing toward a set of double doors. “The fitting room has been prepared, and the Duchess of Lysarian is awaiting your expertise.”
“Thank you,” Stacy replied, slipping into her professional demeanor. She entered the room, immediately setting to work on final adjustments for the noblewomen’s fittings.
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Meanwhile, Layla wandered through the labyrinthine halls of the palace, her curiosity piqued by every ornate detail. She marveled at the paintings of Xenovian monarchs, the towering vases filled with fresh roses, and the polished suits of armor lining the corridors.
Turning a corner, she found herself in a quieter part of the palace. The hustle and bustle of attendants and courtiers seemed distant now. She stopped in front of a tall, imposing figure standing near a window.
“Whoa,” Layla breathed, her wide eyes taking in the man’s sharp, regal appearance. He was dressed in a tailored black suit adorned with golden accents, his dark hair perfectly combed. He looked every inch the part of someone important—someone like the kings in her storybooks.
The man turned at the sound of her voice, his blue eyes locking onto hers. “Well, hello,” he said, his tone more curious than stern. “What do we have here?”
Layla tilted her head, examining him closely. “Are you the king?”
The question caught him off guard, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Why would you think that?”
Layla shrugged, clutching her bunny tighter. “Because you’re wearing those fancy clothes. My teacher showed us pictures of kings in history class, and they all wore fancy clothes like that.”
The man—Zack—chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. “Well, I’m not a king. Not yet, at least.”
“Oh,” Layla said, frowning in thought. “Then what are you doing here?”
Zack raised an eyebrow, amused by the audacity of the little girl. “I could ask you the same thing. Who are you, and why are you wandering around the palace all by yourself?”
Layla’s eyes darted around, calculating her next move. She wasn’t about to admit she had snuck in, so she plastered on her most innocent smile. “I’m here with my mom. She’s super important. She’s designing clothes for the big... um, the big party thing.”
Zack’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of something familiar crossing his features. “Your mom is a designer?”
“Yup!” Layla said, nodding enthusiastically. “She’s really good. She makes all these pretty dresses, and everyone says she’s the best.”
“And what’s your mom’s name?” Zack asked, a hint of curiosity creeping into his tone.
Layla hesitated, unsure if she should reveal too much. “Uh... well, everyone just calls her ‘Miss Stacy,’” she said, innocently omitting the last name. “She used to live somewhere else, but now she travels all over.”
The mention of “Stacy” made Zack freeze for a moment, memories from years ago flashing in his mind. He remembered his childhood best friend, the one person who had made the palace feel less suffocating, the one who had left without a word.
“And where is your mom now?” he asked, his voice quieter, more thoughtful.
“She’s somewhere around here,” Layla replied, looking around dramatically. “I got lost, though. This place is huuuge.”
Zack smirked, holding out a hand. “Come on, I’ll help you find her. Can’t have you wandering around and getting into trouble, can we?”
Layla took his hand, skipping along beside him as they walked through the halls. She babbled on about how her mom was always busy but still made time to play tea party with her, how her mom had told her all about the fancy people she worked with, and how this was her first time in a palace.
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They finally arrived at the East Wing. Layla tugged on Zack’s hand, pointing toward a fitting room where Stacy was busy adjusting the hem of a noblewoman’s gown.
“There she is!” Layla exclaimed, her voice ringing out in the quiet corridor. “Mommy!”
Zack’s steps faltered as his eyes landed on Stacy. The years seemed to fall away as he took in her familiar features—the determined set of her jaw, the way her brows furrowed in concentration, the graceful way she moved.
Stacy turned at the sound of Layla’s voice, her heart stopping when her gaze locked onto Zack’s. Her hands froze mid-motion, the delicate fabric slipping from her grasp.
“Stacy?” Zack said, his voice filled with disbelief.
The room seemed to hold its breath as the two of them stood there, staring at each other, the weight of seven years pressing down on them.
- Writer
