The corridors of Aldeburgh Main Hospital were bustling with activity, a stark contrast to the inner turmoil that simmered within Gray. The resignation she'd submitted over a month ago had finally been approved, but not without a caveat: her father had insisted on extending her notice by another month. It was yet another burden to carry, especially given the demands of her dual life. Now, she was in the last two weeks of her extended tenure, balancing her duties as a surgeon and her covert missions with the precision of a tightrope walker.
As she made her rounds, checking in on patients, her thoughts were interrupted by the soft chime of her phone. It was a message from Princess Mireille, the youngest sibling of Dale, requesting a private meeting. The request was unexpected, especially considering Mireille's usual cold demeanor towards her. Gray had become accustomed to the distance and distrust from Dale's family, but something about Mireille's message seemed urgent.
---
The hospital's rooftop garden was a place of solace, a rare sanctuary amidst the chaos. That's where Gray found Mireille, standing by the edge, her arms wrapped around herself as if warding off a chill. The younger princess looked out of place—vulnerable in a way that belied her usually poised and aloof exterior.
"Your Highness," Gray greeted softly, her tone respectful but curious.
Mireille turned, her eyes red-rimmed, as if she'd been crying. "Please, just call me Mireille," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I didn't know who else to turn to."
Gray's brows furrowed in concern, but she kept her expression neutral. "What's wrong?"
For a moment, Mireille hesitated, her hands wringing together as if grappling with something deeply personal. "It's about my application to the International Architecture Academy," she finally confessed. "I've been struggling with my personal statement, and Lucian and Dale are too busy to help."
Gray blinked, caught off guard. The icy princess of Vaeloris, the one who had always kept her distance, was seeking her help. It was a strange twist, but Gray felt a flicker of empathy. She knew all too well the pressure of living in the shadows of expectations, of having to prove oneself constantly.
"Alright," Gray said, her voice steady. "Why don't you show me what you've written so far?"
Mireille pulled out a folder from her bag, handing it over with a shaky hand. As Gray skimmed through the draft, she could see the raw passion in Mireille's words, though they were clumsy and unfocused. The young princess had potential, but she was clearly struggling to articulate her thoughts.
"You have a strong message here, but it's buried," Gray said, looking up. "Let's refine it. Tell me, what inspired you to pursue this path?"
For the next hour, they worked together, Gray patiently guiding Mireille through her uncertainties. The young princess slowly opened up, revealing dreams of using diplomacy to build bridges between nations, to heal the wounds left by conflicts like the one that had torn their family apart.
By the end, Mireille was smiling—a genuine, soft smile that Gray had never seen before. "Thank you," Mireille said, her voice filled with gratitude. "I didn't think... I didn't think you'd be so understanding."
Gray merely nodded, offering a small smile of her own. "We all have our battles, Mireille. Sometimes, it helps to have someone in your corner."
---
Later that evening, Gray returned home, her body weary but her mind still sharp. She hadn't expected to encounter Dale so soon. He was waiting for her in the living room, his posture tense, arms crossed over his chest.
"You've been avoiding me," he began, his voice cold, eyes sharp as ice.
Gray let out a weary sigh, setting down her bag. "I've been busy," she replied, her tone neutral but firm.
"I heard about the extension of your resignation," he said, stepping closer, his voice rising with each word. "Is that your father's doing again? Or are you just trying to make excuses to stay away?"
Gray's eyes flashed, a rare show of emotion breaking through her usual composed facade. "I didn't ask for the extension," she retorted, her voice taut with frustration. "I wanted to leave, Dale. But I had no choice."
"No choice?" Dale scoffed, his frustration boiling over. "You always have a choice, Gray. You just keep choosing them over us—over this marriage."
Gray stiffened, her fists clenching at her sides. The weight of her father's words, the pressures from the hospital, and the secrets she kept even from Dale—everything was piling up. "I don't owe you an explanation for my father's decisions," she said, her voice low, almost a growl. "I have been doing my best to navigate this mess—this marriage that was never my choice either."
Dale's eyes widened, shock flickering across his features. For the first time, it seemed to dawn on him just how much Gray was carrying. But his pride wouldn't let him back down. "So, what is this then? Another ploy by the Montclair family to infiltrate Vaeloris? To control everything?"
"You think I'm some pawn?" Gray shot back, her voice cracking with the intensity of her suppressed emotions. "You don't even know half of what I've sacrificed, Dale. I'm trying to make this work, but you—"
"Me?" Dale cut her off, his voice cold and harsh. "You're the one who's been hiding things, Gray. Every time I try to get close, you shut me out."
Gray shook her head, her heart pounding. "You don't understand," she whispered, her voice suddenly soft, almost breaking. "I've been trying... but you don't see me. You never have."
There was a heavy silence between them, the air thick with words left unsaid, emotions unacknowledged. For a moment, it seemed like Dale might reach out, might try to bridge the chasm between them, but instead, he turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
"I don't have time for this," he muttered. "Just... do whatever you want, Gray."
With that, he stormed out, leaving Gray standing alone, the echo of their argument ringing in the silent hall. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The cracks in her composure were showing, and she knew she couldn't afford that—not now, not ever.
---
Gray retreated to her guest room, the place that had become her refuge. The walls seemed to close in on her, the weight of everything she carried pressing down like a vice. She collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, her mind spinning with thoughts of her father's manipulation, her strained marriage, and the secret missions that were pulling her in every direction.
For a brief moment, she allowed herself to be vulnerable, to let the tears she had held back spill over. It was a silent release, one that no one would ever witness, not even Dale. In this world of secrets and lies, she was truly alone.
But as she wiped her tears, her resolve hardened. She couldn't afford to break now. Not when so much was at stake.
Pulling herself together, she reached for her phone, scrolling through encrypted messages and mission updates. There were still battles to be fought, both on the field and within the walls of her own home.
And Gail Raven Yrenea Montclair was not one to back down.