Ray Delight

The garden was covered in wildflowers that afternoon. Daisies, small white flowers, and a few lilacs grew haphazardly among the tall grass. You were sitting on the ground, facing each other, with a pile of picked flowers between your legs.

"Yours is turning out horribly," you said, laughing, as you tried to braid the stems.

"It's not horrible," Ray protested. "It's... different."

—It's crooked.

"Like you," he replied quickly, before he realized what he had said.

You threw a flower in his face.

-Hey!

Ray laughed and continued trying to fix the crown, concentrating, his tongue barely peeking out between his lips. You, on the other hand, had already finished yours. It was simple, a little uneven, but pretty.

—It's done—you announced. Come on.

Ray looked up… and remained still.

You had carefully placed the crown on your hair. Some flowers escaped, others rested on your forehead. The sun filtered through the trees and shone directly on your face. You smiled, proud of your handiwork, with that open smile you only wore when you were truly happy.

"What?" you asked. "Is it that bad?"

Ray did not respond.

For a moment, the world fell silent. She didn't hear the birds, the wind, or even her own thoughts. She felt something strange in her chest, as if her heart had forgotten how to beat.

Alice smiling, with flowers in her hair.

She didn't know why, but she knew something with a frightening clarity: I would never forget that image.

—Ray… —you called to him—. Is something wrong?

He blinked, as if waking from a dream.

"No," he said quickly. "Everything is fine."

She approached and, with clumsy hands, straightened one of the flowers that had become twisted.

"It looks good on you..." he swallowed. "It looks great on you."

You blushed a little.

-Thank you.

Then you took the crown he had made and placed it on his head, without much care.

-Now you.

Ray let out a small laugh, but he continued to look at you as if something inside him had changed without permission.

—Alice

They were fifteen years old when they first really ran away.

The mansion party roared in the distance: loud music, practiced laughter, clinking glasses. You waited behind the greenhouse, your heart pounding in your ribs, nervously fiddling with the hem of your simple skirt.

Ray arrived late, as always, with his hair disheveled and his suit a mess.

—I was almost caught. My mother wanted me to greet everyone.

—You should be there. They're looking for you.

Ray shook his head and got closer than necessary.

—Not if I can be with you.

You walked in silence to the low wall that separated the mansion from the field. Ray climbed up first and held out his hand. You hesitated for a second.

—If they see us…

—They won't see us. Trust me.

You took it. His fingers were warm and firm. When you jumped, he didn't let go.

They sat in the long grass, away from the lights. The sky was overcast, but it didn't matter.

—Everyone looks at me as if they already know who I'm going to be. As if I no longer have a choice.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

—I've never been able to choose. But at least I know who I am.

Ray looked down.

—I only know when I'm with you.

The silence grew heavy. It wasn't uncomfortable… it was dangerous.

—Ray… —you started, but you didn't finish.

He turned towards you. He was no longer the kindergarten boy. His features were harsher, his gaze more intense.

—Don't say anything. If you say it, I won't be able to pretend tomorrow.

The wind moved your hair. Ray raised his hand, hesitated… and lowered it.

"Would you ever leave?" he asked softly. "Far from here."

You thought about the world beyond the wall.

—Only if I have nothing to lose.

Ray smiled sadly.

—Then stay a little longer.

They stayed there until the music ended and the lights went out. Before leaving, Ray took a thin chain from around his neck and placed it in your hand.

"So you'll remember tonight," he said. "Before things get complicated."

Years later, when that chain lay hidden beneath your clothes, You would remember that moment.

The day you learned to read, the garden was silent.

You held an old book in your hands, its pages yellowed and the letters faded. It was hard to follow them, your eyes hurt, but you were determined. Ray was in front of you, sitting on the edge of the fountain, dangling his feet in the water.

—Not again,— you said. Don't laugh.

Ray raised his hands.

—I'm not laughing. I promise.

You took a deep breath and began to read aloud, slowly, stumbling over the words. Each mistake made you look down, embarrassed.

—No… I don't know how to say that one.

Ray stood up and came over. He crouched down beside you and pointed at the word.

—It's “eternal,” he said. “It means it doesn't end.”

You repeated it in a low voice.

-Eternal.

She smiled as if you had said something incredible.

"That's you," he added.

You frowned.

—Don't talk nonsense.

"It's not nonsense," he insisted. "When you leave, the garden feels empty. That doesn't go away."

You continued reading, feeling more confident. When you finished the paragraph, you looked up, waiting for his approval.

Ray clapped slowly.

"See?" he said. "I knew you could."

You closed the book carefully.

"When you're a count, you'll have a huge library," you remarked. "I won't be able to go in."

Ray looked at you, confused.

—Of course you can.

—No —you denied—. They'll say it's not the place for me.

Ray thought for a few seconds. Then he stood up and took the book from your hands.

"Then I'll learn to read with you," she said. "And if they don't let you in, I'll take all the books out into the garden."

You laughed.

—That's impossible.

"I do the impossible," he replied very seriously. "Especially for you."

A maid called them from the house. Ray placed the book in your hands before leaving.

"Keep it," he said. "It's important."

-Because?

"Because words last," he replied. "Just like us."

Years later, when books were a luxury and words were broken promises, You would still remember that day.

Because it was the first time someone believed in you before you did. 📖🤍

It was night, and the garden was barely lit by the fireflies that floated among the rose bushes. You were sitting on the ground, holding a small, unlit lantern, staring at the sky with a frown.

Ray appeared barefoot, escaping from the mansion as he always did when he couldn't sleep.

"What are you looking at?" he whispered, sitting down next to you.

—The stars. They say some people are born with special luck… and others aren't.

Ray tilted his head.

—Who says that?

—The cook—you said—. Says you were born under a bright star.

Ray was silent for a moment. Then he broke off a twig and began to draw in the damp soil.

—Look. That's your star.

He drew a crooked dot.

—And that's mine.

He drew another one, bigger.

—If they are too far apart, no one can see that they belong to each other.

You moved a little closer.

—What if they turn off?

Ray shook his head.

"They don't turn off," he said. "They just hide when people stare at them too much."

You paused, thinking, and then asked in a very low voice:

—What if one day they don't let you go out into the garden?

Ray looked at you, serious. Very serious.

"Then I'll look at the sky from my window," he replied. "And you from here. It will be the same sky."

He put his hand in his pocket and took out something small: a small, smooth, white stone.

"It's yours," he said. "So you don't forget me when we're not together."

You pressed her against your chest.

—And what will you have? —you asked.

Ray smiled.

—To you —he said—. Nobody can take that away from me.

A distant voice called to him from the house. Ray stood up, brushing the dirt from his hands.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he promised.

—You always say that.

—Because I always do.

You were left alone in the garden, looking at the stars, with the stone still warm in your hand.

Years later, when the nights were filled with other people's music and broken promises, that same stone would still be stored in your drawer.

And every time you touched it, you would remember that before the titles, before the obligations, Ray had already chosen you under the same sky. ✨

It was raining.

It wasn't a heavy rain, but one of those that falls slowly, making the world seem quieter. You were sitting under the old tree in the garden, hugging your knees, watching the mud stick to your worn-out shoes.

You had cried, even though there were no tears left.

Ray found you there.

She came running from the mansion, without an umbrella, her hair plastered to her forehead and her clothes soaked. When she saw you, she stopped abruptly.

"What happened?" he asked, lowering his voice, as if the tree could hear.

You shook your head.

—My dad says I can't play with you as often anymore. He says it's not right.

Ray frowned, confused, and then angry. He sat down opposite you, ignoring the rain, and picked up a stick from the ground.

"That's nonsense," he said. "The garden is big. There's room for both of us."

—But you are… you —you whispered—. And I am not.

Ray stared at you for a long time, as if trying to understand something too profound for his age. Then he did something strange: he took off the elegant coat he was wearing and put it over you, covering your shoulders.

—Then let's switch places —he proposed—. I'll be you and you'll be me.

-It can't be done.

"Yes, it can be done," he insisted. "Look."

He stood up and stomped hard in the mud, getting his expensive pants dirty.

"Now I'm dirty," he said. "I no longer look like a count."

You couldn't help but smile.

—You're going to get into trouble.

"I don't care," he replied. "If I get scolded, I'll say it was my fault."

Then he knelt in front of you and looked at you very seriously.

"Listen to me," she said. "If one day they say we can't be together, I'll still find you. Even if I have to escape through the window."

—What if you get lost?

Ray took your hand tightly.

"Then I'll call out your name," he promised. "You always know where to find me."

From inside the house, a maid called to them. Ray got up reluctantly.

—I have to go. But come back tomorrow. I'll be here.

When Ray walked away, you stayed under the tree, his coat soaked and too big for you. It smelled of expensive soap and him

Summer smelled of freshly cut grass and damp earth. Your knees were scraped, your old dress was stained green, and a poorly made daisy crown was falling out of your hair. You laughed as you ran through the mansion's back garden, the one you knew better than many of the rooms inside.

Ray was behind you, with his shoes in his hand and his shirt unbuttoned, laughing without worrying about titles or rules.

"Wait!" he shouted. "If you don't stop, I can't finish it!"

You turned around, curious, and saw him kneeling on the grass, deep in thought as if he were solving the world's greatest mystery. Between his clumsy fingers he was weaving small white flowers, picked from the side of the road.

"What are you doing?" you asked, slowly approaching.

Ray looked up. He had a sheet of paper stuck to his hair and an expression so serious it made you laugh.

"My mother said that when someone loves another person very much... they give them a ring," she explained. "And since I don't have any gold, I made a better one."

You sat down opposite him, with your legs crossed.

—Better than gold?

"Of course," he replied confidently. "This one doesn't weigh anything and you can't buy it."

When she finished, she showed you a small hoop of twisted flowers, fragile, but made with immense care. She took your hand in both of hers, with that gentleness that only children possess without knowing it.

"Will you marry me?" he asked suddenly. "When we grow up."

You blinked, surprised.

—Marry… you?

Ray nodded quickly, as if he was afraid you might change your mind.

"I'm going to be a count," he said. "But I don't want to marry some strange princess. I want you. You take care of the roses and you don't mind getting dirty."

You felt your chest warm, though you didn't quite understand why. You smiled.

"What if I get old and grumpy?" you asked very seriously.

"Then I'll bring you flowers every day," she replied without hesitation. "So you won't scold me so much."

"Yes," you said. "But only if you promise not to forget."

"Never," he promised. "Even if they force me."

"Loving, Ray always kept childhood promises in his heart, even when duty forced him to feign happiness in the arms of another."