After the lesson, they were taken to the dining hall for cake tasting. A long table stood filled with frosted layers, delicate sugar flowers, gold accents, and sweet scents.
"Pick one," the baker insisted cheerfully.
Isabella hesitated. Elijah spoke first. "She will choose."
For the first time, Isabella did not feel like a pawn being pushed forward. She took a slow breath and tasted one of the cakes. Light. Soft. Sweet with vanilla and berries.
"This one," she decided.
Elijah nodded. "Then that is the one."
No argument. No pressure. Just agreement.
Later, they sat outside under an arch of ivy, finally alone. The air smelled of lavender and fresh grass. Birds moved in the distance.
Isabella kept her hands in her lap.
"Elijah," she began, voice careful, "I need you to understand something before we go further with this."
He leaned back slightly, giving her space. "Speak."
"I am willing to try. Not out of obligation. I want to see if there can be something real here. But I cannot promise to forget everything overnight."
"I do not want you to forget," he replied. "Your anger, your hurt, your confusion. They were all real. I know that. I caused some of it. I will not pretend I did not."
She blinked, surprised at his honesty.
He continued, tone steady. "I have been raised in a world where taking control was the only way to survive. Where love was never gentle. Where loyalty was proven, not spoken. I did not know how to ask. I only knew how to claim."
The truth of him lay open between them. Not polished. Not perfect. Just real.
Isabella's voice softened. "Then maybe we both learn something new from this."
"Then we try?" he asked.
"We try," she confirmed.
He reached toward her, slow enough that she could stop him if she wished. She did not. His hand rested over hers, warm and grounding.
She looked at him again, really looked.
"Elijah?"
"Yes."
"There is something else." She lifted her hand and held up the ring. The inscription glimmered faintly inside the band. Their names, intertwined like something chosen long before either of them understood it.
"You had this made years ago."
"Yes."
"You always knew it would be me."
He did not deny it. "I never wanted anyone else."
Her heart tightened in her chest. Not in fear. In recognition.
"Then," Isabella whispered, voice just steady enough, "I suppose fate is no longer the enemy."
"No," Elijah said softly. "It is the beginning."
They sat together in silence, not because words were gone, but because none were needed.
The wedding was in two days.This time, neither of them felt like running.