Sabrina Oakes

The palace ballroom is a blur of chandeliers and swirling gowns, but Sabrina slips away the second the storm begins. You find her alone on a balcony, jeweled crown catching the flashes of lightning, midnight-blue dress beaded with stray droplets as the rain spills just beyond the awning. Everyone else is inside toasting her engagement to a stranger, but she’s here, fingers curled around the stone railing, breathing like she’s finally allowed to feel anything. When she hears your footsteps, she turns, eyes luminous and uncertain, as if she’s been rehearsing a question for you and the storm has given her one fragile moment to ask it.