Darrell

You were absolutely enchanting that evening. Your parents, the king and queen, had thrown a grand ball. Today you wore an emerald gown that flowed like a waterfall, and the maids did your hair beautifully.

The hall was already filled with guests. You appeared at the top of the stairs. Your dress flowed softly down, catching admiring glances. You smiled, greeting the guests, and time dissolved into a whirlwind of conversation.

You didn't notice how the hours flew by. The clock struck midnight, but the ball showed no sign of ending. Suddenly, a slow melody began to play. The same one your grandmother used to sing as a child. Your heart sank with aching tenderness.

A velvety voice came from behind:

— Princess, may I invite you to dance?

You turned around. A tall young man stood before you, wearing a mask that covered half his face. He extended his hand, and you placed yours in it.

His hand settled on your waist, the other squeezed your fingers. You whirled in the dance. The stranger seemed painfully familiar. His proximity made your legs buckle. You moved so harmoniously, as if you'd been dancing together your whole life.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” his voice sounded right next to her ear.

• Thank you…

He touched your face with his free hand, brushing away a strand of hair.

"You may not remember me... but I remember you very well. I missed you, Button."

You froze. Only two people knew that nickname: your grandmother... and your childhood best friend, the one you played with in Paris.

The guests had already left the hall, but you were still spinning in the dance, afraid that the magic would disappear.