Morning light slipped through the tall glass windows, soft and golden, spilling across the marble floors. The city stretched endlessly beyond—quiet, expensive, untouchable.
Valentine stirred.
Not like a fairytale princess—no maids, no dramatic music—just the faint buzz of her phone on the bedside table and the weight of another day she didn't feel like living.
Her room was perfect. Too perfect.Everything placed exactly where it should be.Everything controlled.
She sat up slowly, brushing her hair back, her expression already tired… like she hadn't slept, even though she had.
For a moment, she just stared outside.
Freedom looked so close from here.
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Downstairs, the atmosphere was different. Controlled. Formal.
Her father stood near the dining table, already on a call, voice calm but firm—the kind of tone that didn't invite arguments.
Valentine walked in, her steps steady… but her patience already gone.
He ended the call, turning toward her.
"Good morning," he said, like nothing was wrong.
She let out a quiet breath, then—
"Dad, I'm tired of explaining…"
Her voice wasn't loud.But it carried something heavier than anger.
She stepped closer.
"Things are not like how you think they are… why can't you see that?"
A pause.
He frowned slightly, already defensive."Valentine, we've discussed this—"
"No, you've decided." she cut in, sharper now."You don't listen. You just decide what's 'right' for me."
Silence stretched between them.
Her hands clenched slightly at her sides.
"I'm not a child you can control every second."
He sighed, that same controlled patience that made everything worse."This is about your safety."
She let out a small, almost bitter laugh.
"Safety? Or control?"
A beat.
Then, quieter—but more dangerous—
"I'm going out today. Alone."
His expression hardened immediately."That's not happening."
She met his eyes, unwavering.
"It is."