Lily lay on her bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling as candlelight flickered across the walls. The silence of her room was deep, almost sacred. The dress she was to wear for the royal wedding hung near the window white silk laced with delicate embroidery. It was beautiful, flawless. And it filled her with dread.
The last few weeks had passed in a haze of preparations, decisions, and visitors. People came and went from her home like a tide. The whispers in the village never stopped.
Some said, "She waited long enough. She deserves a future."
Others murmured behind hands, "Only two year and she's forgotten Sam?"
But Lily had not forgotten. She couldn't. Not a single day had gone by without thoughts of him. His laugh, his strong hands, the sound of his footsteps on the wooden pier. His absence was louder than anyone's presence.
Now, lying there, she felt hollow.
The house had gone quiet after the day's bustle. Her mother had checked on her twice, asking softly if she needed anything. Lily had only shaken her head, whispering she was fine. But she wasn't. The guilt gnawed at her like a restless creature.
The prince had been kind. Patient. When he returned after so long, his arrival had stirred something new in the village curiosity, admiration, envy. He was no longer just a visitor. He had returned with tales of distant lands, of duty and power. He had come back with a firm intention: to make Lily his queen.
And when the second year passed and Sam was still gone, her father gently took her hand one morning and said, "You can't live in waiting forever, my child."
So Lily said yes.
And now, here she was.
The hour was late. Her limbs were heavy with exhaustion, but her mind would not let go. She turned on her side, clutching the old shell Sam had once given her, the only piece of him that hadn't been stolen by the sea.
Eventually, sleep came.
And so did the dream.
She was back on the cliff, the sky bruised with twilight. The waves below whispered her name not like a memory, but like a voice. And then, she saw him.
Sam.
He walked toward her, barefoot, dressed in the clothes he always wore when heading out to sea. His hair was wet. His eyes, the same deep brown, held both sorrow and promise.
She tried to run to him, but her feet wouldn't move.
He raised a hand and smiled. "I'm coming back, Lily."
Her breath caught.
He stepped closer. "Not now. But soon. Don't go."
She opened her mouth to speak, but the wind rose and carried his voice away. The dream began to unravel like a sail torn in the storm. She reached out. "Sam, wait!"
But he was already fading.
She sat up in bed, gasping.
Morning had come. Birds were singing outside. The sun had risen gently but nothing in Lily felt light. Her heart pounded with a strange kind of certainty. Not hope. Not madness. Certainty.
She dressed quickly, barely brushing her hair, and went straight to her father.
He was in the main room, sipping tea, his expression tired from weeks of planning and negotiations with the prince's advisors. When he saw her, he smiled gently. "You couldn't sleep?"
She didn't answer.
"Dad," she said, her voice steady. "Please don't let the wedding happen...."
His eyes lifted in quiet surprise.
"I dreamed of Sam," she continued. "He said he's coming back."
Her father exhaled slowly. "Lily…"
"I know how it sounds," she whispered. "But it didn't feel like a dream. It was like he was really there."
He set the tea down. "Your heart is aching, and dreams dreams take what we feel and weave them into stories. It's natural."
"Please," she said, her voice tightening. "Just one more year. Postpone it. If he doesn't come back after a year, I won't fight again. I'll marry the prince. But not now. Not yet."
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"People will talk," he warned.
"They already do."
He studied her face for a long time, then stood and nodded. "Alright. One year."
Tears filled her eyes. "Thank you."
Later that day, the village buzzed again. News traveled faster than any official message: the wedding was postponed.
Some shook their heads in disbelief. Others nodded with understanding.
"Poor girl," they said. "She still believes."
But Lily didn't care.
That evening, the prince arrived, his horse tired from the journey across the hills. He met her father privately first, then asked to see her.
They stood in the garden, under the same fig tree where she had once stood with Sam.
"I heard the news," the prince said, voice gentle.
"I'm sorry," Lily replied quietly. "I just need more time."
He looked at her, then nodded. "A year," he said. "But I won't wait forever, Lily. I want a queen by my side not a shadow."
She met his gaze. "I understand."
He hesitated, then added, "When we marry, you'll leave Evermore. You know that, right? I rule far from here now. My uncle is king here, but my duty lies there. My future queen must come with me."
She hadn't known that until recently. That was what solidified her decision. She couldn't leave while there was still even the faintest chance Sam was out there somewhere.
"I'll come," she said. "If, after a year, he doesn't return."
The prince looked at her for a long moment, then bowed slightly. "Very well."
And then he left again, as swiftly as he had come, leaving the village as silent as the sea once was.
Lily returned to the cliff that night.
She sat with the shell in her hand, wrapped in Sam's coat, her hair blowing in the soft wind. And she whispered into the night,
"I'll wait."
The stars said nothing.
But the sea, ever shifting, seemed to listen.....