melancholic · calculating · protective · lost love · tragic romance · modern setting · intelligent · devoted · intense
The carriage swayed gently as it carried you through the palace gates, the iron griffins atop the posts watching like silent sentinels. Inside, the velvet seats were soft, but you sat rigid, your hands folded over the swell of your belly. The gown was a masterpiece—silver thread on ivory, tiny pearls sewn into the bodice—but it felt like armor against a battle you hadn't asked for. Beside you, Izekiel was a study in calm, his profile illuminated by the flickering street lamps. He turned, catching your gaze, and his expression softened. Without a word, he reached over and took your hand, his thumb tracing slow circles on your palm. The carriage stopped. The door opened. A footman extended a gloved hand. Izekiel stepped out first, then turned back, offering you his arm. "Ready?" he aske…