The next morning came with an unexpected stillness. The wind had changed direction overnight, and with it, something else seemed to shift in the air like the tide preparing to turn.
Lily sat with her mother and sisters around the morning fire when her father returned from the elder's house. His expression was unreadable, but Lily could see the storm in his eyes.
"What happened?" her mother asked immediately, standing.
He didn't answer at first. He sat down heavily on the stool by the doorway, brushing the dust from his robes.
"The prince…" he began, then paused. "He asked questions. About our family. About Lily. About Sam."
Lily's heart thudded. "What did you say?"
"I told him the truth," her father replied, looking directly at her. "That you chose love. That your heart is not something to be bought. And that Sam is a good man."
Tears welled in Lily's eyes.
Her mother exhaled deeply and returned to her seat, silent.
"But that's not all," he added. "He asked if the two of you plan to marry."
The room fell silent.
Mirah looked up from her stitching. "What did you say, Dad?"
He turned to Lily, his voice gentler now. "I said… yes. That preparations are underway."
Lily blinked. "But they aren't."
"They are now," he said, a small smile curling beneath his tired eyes. "We'll fix a date. Before the season turns. Before the world has another chance to twist your happiness."
Lily covered her mouth with her hand, overcome. "Thank you…"
"You chose him. Now we'll stand by that choice. It's time."
Word spread quickly.
The wedding of Lily, the girl who once dined at the palace and Sam the quiet fisherman who lived near the shore was to happen in three weeks' time.
Some scoffed.
Others stared in disbelief.
But some, surprisingly, smiled.
The seamstress's daughter offered to help with Lily's dress. The carpenter carved a new table for the wedding meal. Even old Marta, the baker's wife, left a basket of sugared dates on their doorstep with a note: "For strength. You'll need it."
The village was beginning to thaw. Slowly. Cautiously.
But not all hearts were warming.
One evening, Sam found a letter slipped beneath the door of his cottage. It was unsigned, written in hurried strokes.
>>> "Marry her if you want. But know this, some stories are too big for this village. She doesn't belong here. She never did."<<<
He burned the note without showing Lily.
He wouldn't let fear shape their beginning.
As the days passed, Lily and Sam spent more time together, walking by the shore, helping each other prepare. Her laughter began to return, lighter and freer than before.
They decided on a simple ceremony beneath the old fig tree by the cliffs. The tree where Sam had once given her a shell and told her the ocean sang for those who listened.
Lily's mother and sisters began sewing her dress, a soft blue-gray like the sea at dawn. Sam borrowed his father's old coat, brushing off years of dust with care.
Everyone, it seemed, was doing something.
Everyone but the prince.
No one had seen him since the day he spoke to the elders.
Until the night before the ceremony...
Lily stood outside her home, staring up at the stars, when a familiar voice stirred the stillness.
"You look happier."
She turned sharply. The prince stood at the edge of the path, his cloak shadowing his face.
"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice careful but calm.
"I'm leaving at sunrise," he said. "I just… wanted to see you before I go."
She swallowed. "I hope you find someone who chooses you the way I chose him."
The prince gave a sad smile. "I did choose someone once. But I never asked her what she truly wanted."
He bowed slightly, the royal stiffness still in his posture, but the weight in his voice softened. "Goodbye, Lily. Be brave. You were always braver than me."
Then he turned and disappeared into the night.
Lily didn't cry.
She felt peace.
Real, deep peace.
And when Sam appeared moments later, carrying two steaming mugs of spiced milk, she reached for his hand, heart steady.
"Tomorrow," she whispered.
He smiled. "Tomorrow."
And this time, there was no storm in the sky. Only stars.....