What Do You Truly Want?
The golden glow of the pavilion’s lamps spilled over the polished wooden floors, catching in Victor’s violet eyes as he sat beside Sasha. The quiet hum of the estate seed to contract around them, the world outside fading, leaving only this room, these people, this tense, expectant mont.
Shan Suncrest’s gaze bore into him, unyielding. "You brought her pain once," he said, his voice deep, calm, yet laced with gravity. "You’ve returned into her life again. I won’t pretend not to see what’s there—the way she looks at you, the way you look at her. So tell , Prince. What now?"
The question landed like a stone in the water of the room, sending ripples through every heart present. Sasha stiffened beside him, her small fingers curling lightly against her lap. Ania’s fork clattered softly onto her plate, her eyes wide and expectant.
Victor flexed his fingers against the table’s edge, grounding himself in the cool, smooth wood. This was more than a test—it was a reckoning. A judgnt not from anger, but from a father’s love for his daughter, protective and piercing.
He drew a asured breath, letting the silence stretch a heartbeat longer. Finally, his voice broke through—calm, sincere, weighted with conviction.
"Lord Suncrest," he began, his gaze steady, "I understand my past actions have caused harm. To you, to Sasha. I apologize for my behavior, for the years of absence, for the pain I brought. And to you, Sasha..." His voice softened, the words ant for her only, "I am sorry. Truly, I am."
Sasha’s lips parted slightly, unsure whether to speak or remain silent. Her father’s expression, anwhile, shifted subtly—an eyebrow raised, a mix of curiosity and skepticism in his golden eyes.
Victor’s tone grew warr, carrying a quiet assurance. "But know this," he continued, a small, confident smile tugging at his lips, "I intend nothing destructive. Nothing to hurt anyone anymore. My goal is not to ruin the bonds around us but to build anew. To create a relationship founded on trust, respect, and care. That is all I desire."
Ania’s eyes lifted, her innocent curiosity sharp. "Brother...?" she asked softly, tilting her head toward him.
Victor’s lips curved into a small smile at the sight of his little sister’s purple eyes wide with wonder. "Yes, my little pie," he replied gently.
Shan’s eyes, however, remained narrowed, searching, testing. "Huh," he said finally, leaning back in his chair, the playfulness of his earlier deanor slipping into sothing heavier. "Prince Victor... you say you want nothing destructive, yet you’ve spent ti with her knowing you wouldn’t—"
"You wouldn’t what?" Victor asked, his brow furrowing slightly, but his voice calm. "You an a relationship? Yes. I spent ti with Sasha. But my intention was never to cause pain or confusion. I wanted to... rebuild. To fill the gap left by my past mistakes. That gap cannot remain empty; I cannot let it be filled by fear or distance. So I stepped in—to nurture, to create sothing true, sothing lasting."
Sasha’s eyes widened, a tremor running through her small fra. She opened her mouth, ready to interrupt, but Victor’s voice held a sincerity that silenced even her doubts.
Shan’s fingers tapped against the table thoughtfully. His daughter’s gaze flitted between the two n—the prince and her father—and she felt the weight of expectation pressing against her chest.
"You don’t intend to destroy a relationship with my daughter," Shan said finally, his tone asured, almost cautious. "But then, what exactly is it you want?"
Victor drew in a deep breath, feeling the heaviness settle in his chest. His gaze moved to Sasha, then swept back to her father. The words ca carefully, deliberately.
"I want to rebuild," he said, his voice firm. "Not a shadow of the past, not a repetition of mistakes. I want sothing new. Sothing real. A relationship born from understanding, care, and... mutual respect. I want Sasha—not as a prize, not as a possession, but as my partner, my equal, the one with whom I will face everything life places before us. That is what I want."
The room went silent. Ania blinked, her small mouth forming an o of surprise. "Brother... you an you...?"
Victor’s lips quirked into a gentle, reassuring smile. "Yes, little one. That is exactly what I an."
Sasha felt her heart tremble, caught between disbelief and a tender warmth she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years. Her father’s expression softened, the rigid edge of his gaze giving way to contemplation.
Shan leaned back, letting out a quiet, almost reluctant sigh. "You truly an it?" he asked, his voice lower, carrying weight and caution. "Not empty words, not a fleeting impulse?"
Victor’s answer was a steady, unwavering nod. "I an it with every part of . My past mistakes will not dictate our future. I want her—truly, honestly, and only with the intent to cherish and build, never to harm."
Sasha blinked, trying to process the sincerity radiating from him. Her father’s eyes searched hers, and for a mont, she saw the struggle within him—the protective instincts battling with the recognition of truth in Victor’s words.
Ania giggled softly, a bright, lilting sound breaking the tension. "Brother, you’re really serious, aren’t you?"
Victor’s smile softened, turning toward his sister. "Always, my little pie," he said.
Lord Shan’s expression shifted again, the sternness lting into a thoughtful, quiet warmth. He nodded slowly. "Very well. Then tell —what you intend to do with my daughter, truly. I will hear no half-truths, no empty promises."
Victor’s gaze returned to Sasha, his hand inching subtly closer to hers, though not yet touching. "I intend to walk forward together," he said, voice steady, clear, resolute. "To face everything as partners. To build trust, understanding, and love. To let the past be lessons, not chains. And finally... I intend to make her my wife. That is my purpose, my intent, my promise."
The words hung in the air, weighty yet light with conviction. Ania’s eyes sparkled with delight and approval, her hands clapping softly. "Brother! That’s exactly what I wanted to hear!"
Sasha felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, a rush of relief, wonder, and unspoken joy flooding through her. Her father remained seated, silent, letting the mont breathe, yet the tight lines of his face softened slightly.
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