The first thing she sees is a flash of blonde hair, followed by a familiar blue grey pinafore. The same one that Seraphina and the other maids in the palace don.

No matter how much she tries to shift, she’s unable to catch a glimpse of the girl’s face, her back turned towards Aster.

And then she sees Flynn.

The sight of him makes her breath catch in her throat. Because she’s never seen him like that.

Never with his eyes bright and his face soft, the dimple at the side of his mouth deepening as he smiles. Like he’s basking in the warmth of the morning sun. Like he couldn’t look away from this girl even if he tried.

Like he’s truly, utterly in love.

The way Aster imagined he would look at her when they first reunited.

Aster blinks as she begins to feel her eyes burn. She tries to take a steadying breath, but it brings her no relief. All she can feel is a growing ache, like a thousand tiny splinters lodged into the cavity of her chest.

Florian reaches up to brush a hand against the girl’s cheek. “Didn’t I tell you it’s just Flynn when we’re together?” He says. Teasing. Charming. Aster doesn’t recognise this version of him.

“Yeah,” the girl says with a laugh. “I don’t know why that came out. An old habit, I guess.”

Florian hums amusedly. He looks at her for a moment, speculating. “You look a bit tired. Have you been feeling alright? Are you overworked?”

“I’m absolutely fine Flynn, you’re just imagining things. Besides, you’re one to talk.”

“Well, I suppose I have been busier as of late.” Flynn swipes absentmindedly at his cheek. Aster spies the hint of faint shadows underneath his eyes. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle,” he reassures, as he reaches for the girl’s hands to clasp them in his own. “Anyway, enough about me, Rose. Tell me about your day? Please? It’s been a while since we’ve been able to meet.”

It feels like she’s merely a spectator in her own body. Aster watches

Aster doesn’t know why she’s still watching. Why she can’t move. Why she can barely breathe. She is merely a spectator within her own body, numb to the point of paralysed.

Unable to tear herself away.

For a long moment, the girl- Rose, doesn’t say anything back. Florian’s brow creases with confusion. “Rose?”

“Flynn…” She says haltingly.

“Yes?”

“I-” A pause. “There’s something I need to ask of you.”

“You look so serious. What is it? You know I’ll do anything for you.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Another pause.

“Can this be the last time for us to meet?”

Every trace of affection is utterly wiped from Florian’s face, replaced by stunned confusion. “...Why?” He says, voice tremulous. “Did… Did something happen? Did I do something wrong?” His eyes widen, stricken. “I’ll fix it! I-I’ll do better, so why-”

“You know why.” Rose’s voice is soft, so faint that Aster almost fails to catch it.

A thousand different emotions flit across Florian’s face. Anguish. Rage. Helplessness. His lips press themselves into a thin line. “It’s because she’s here now, isn’t it?”

“She’s your fiancé, Flynn.”

“And what of it?” Florian’s voice turns pleading. “Just because she’s here now doesn’t mean anything between us has to change.“

“How can you say that?” Rose’s voice trembles, like it’s taking all her effort to keep it even. “So is this how we’ll carry on? Meeting in the maze in secret? Sneaking around behind your fiancé’s back?”

“I didn’t have a say in this marriage, Rose.” Florian’s voice is tight. “I never had a choice.”

“Maybe not.” Her voice is a hushed whisper. “But we both knew this could never last. We both knew it would have to come to an end at some point.”

“But-” Florian’s expression is an open wound. “-I don’t want to let you go.”

When Rose speaks again, her voice is watery. “Neither do I. But… I have to.”

“Rose-”

“From now on, I won’t be responding to your letters, or any word that you send for me,” she says, voice wobbling. “We’ll no longer meet like this, and we’ll go back to the way we used to be: a prince and a girl who works for the palace. Nothing more, and nothing less.”

“Does it really have to be this way?”

“…Do we have any other choice?”

His silence is answer enough.

Slowly, Rose pulls her hands away from Florian’s. Every gesture is slow, careful; like if she moves too quickly, either of them might shatter where they stand.

Florian doesn’t protest. He watches mutely, eyes filled with nothing but pain as she pries his fingers away from hers gently. Once free, she folds her fingers into her palms, clutching her fists to herself. “I-“

“I love you.” Florian’s voice breaks and shatters. “I love you. I-”

I wish it didn’t have to be this way.

Even if he doesn’t say it out loud, Aster can hear it all the same.

She can’t bear to look at him.

To see the anguish painted across his face. To feel her own ache magnify a thousandfold, for a million different reasons.

Rose reaches forward, closing the gap between Florian and her as she cups his face between her palms. She leans up, rising on her toes to press a lingering kiss to his forehead.

“Goodbye, Florian Klars.”

And then she’s gone.

Aster doesn’t know how long she remains there, watching Florian frozen in place, gaze still fixed towards where Rose had once been. Then slowly, he reaches for his face with the back of his sleeve, eyes shining.

Aster feels her knees give out.

She slumps to the ground, boneless. It feels like ages before she faintly registers the sound of Florian rising again, followed by the sound of his receding footsteps.

Aster clenches her hands, fingers shaking. She watches her fists tremble instead.

She tries to take a breath. And another. And another. But it’s no use. Her lungs merely burn, air scorching against her throat.

She’d asked for a reason. A reason for Florian’s cold attitude. A reason for the way he’d changed, unrecognisable from the boy she used to dream of.

And fate had delivered.

He was in love with someone else.

Rose. A girl who works in the palace.

How long have they been seeing each other? When did this even begin?

Is Rose the reason why Florian stopped writing to her? Why he never responded to the letters she sent?

The grass beneath her blurs, vision turning watery. Aster squeezes her eyes shut. Tries to breathe once more. But all that comes is a shudder instead of an inhale.

Aster Vastein, don’t you dare cry. Don’t you dare-

“You little fool. Did you really think he could ever love you?”