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I woke up earlier than usual that Saturday morning, the crisp scent of autumn wafting through my slightly open window.

Golden light filtered through the swaying orange and red leaves outside, casting playful patterns on my walls.

I stretched lazily in bed, feeling an uncharacteristic cheerfulness buzzing in my chest.

My thoughts drifted back to the kiss—our kiss.

Just the memory of Wallace's lips against mine made my cheeks flush and my stomach flutter.

I bit my lip to stifle a smile that threatened to bloom uncontrollably.

Was this what happiness felt like? Pure, unbridled happiness?

The autumn chill greeted me as I slipped out of bed, making me pull on a soft cardigan over my pajamas.

The mansion felt quieter as usual. The sweeping staircase with its ornate balustrade spiraled down into a grand foyer, its marble floors gleaming under the light streaming from the crystal chandelier above. The walls were lined with somber, oil-painted portraits of long-gone ancestors whose gazes seemed to follow my every move.

The vastness of the mansion always felt oppressive. Today, however, it didn't feel as daunting.

Instead, it felt like the perfect backdrop to my lighthearted mood. Even the somber portraits seemed less judgmental as I hummed my way to breakfast.

Humming! Me, humming! Even I could hardly believe it.

As I walked through the mansion, I greeted every staff member I passed with a chirpy "Good morning!"

Their responses ranged from hesitant nods to surprised smiles.

One maid even glanced around as if unsure I was speaking to her.

I couldn't blame them. This version of me wasn't exactly typical.

Breakfast was laid out neatly on the long table, the setting fit for a dozen guests even though it was only for me.

My mother's usual absence didn't bother me today.

Normally, I'd beeline for my spot at the head, dive into my notes, and eat mechanically while reviewing for the week ahead. But not this morning.

I sat alone at the head of the table, but instead of diving into my food, I found myself gazing out the tall windows.

Beyond the glass, the gardens stretched out in a riot of autumn colors, their vivid hues mirrored in the pond at the far end.

I picked at my breakfast absently, my mind drifting back to Wallace.

The way he had kissed me—tentative yet insistent—was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It had been unexpected, yet it felt so... right.

A dreamy smile tugged at my lips, and I quickly looked down at my plate, embarrassed even though no one was there to see.

By mid-morning, I was sprawled across my bed with an open book in hand, though I wasn't reading.

My eyes skimmed the same line over and over as my thoughts lingered on Wallace.

Why had he kissed me?

What had changed? Or, perhaps more importantly, what did it mean?

I clutched the book to my chest with a sigh.

It wasn't like me to let my guard down, but thinking about Wallace—the way he'd defended me, his easy confidence, the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes even when he smirked—made my carefully constructed walls feel like papier-mâché.

The rest of the morning passed in a haze of daydreams.

Normally, Saturdays were for studying or attending one of the events my mother insisted on. But today, I couldn't focus on anything academic.

Instead, I wandered through the mansion, aimlessly trailing my fingers along the polished wooden banisters and pausing to peer out the tall, arched windows. The estate, usually stifling in its grandeur, seemed almost beautiful today.

For the second time, the weight of expectations didn't press down on me, all because of Wallace. The ghost of his kiss lightened everything.

I ended up in the library, my favorite retreat within the mansion.

The room smelled of aged paper and leather, a comforting scent that usually calmed my restless mind. Sunlight poured in through the tall windows, casting golden streaks across the Persian rug and the towering shelves lined with books.

I curled up in one of the plush armchairs, a book in hand, but my thoughts kept returning to Wallace.

His sharp features softened by a smile, the way his dark eyes seemed to see right through me—it was all too vivid. I found myself smiling at the memory, my heart doing an odd little flip.

By mid-afternoon, I gave up on pretending to read and instead wandered out to the garden.

The cool breeze carried the earthy scent of fallen leaves and distant wood smoke. My footsteps crunched along the stone path as I admired the perfectly trimmed hedges and the kaleidoscope of autumn hues in the flowerbeds.

Pausing by the pond, I watched the wind ripple its surface, distorting the fiery treetops' reflection.

The mansion loomed behind me, its grand facade bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Its sheer size and opulence had always felt overwhelming, a physical representation of my mother's towering expectations.

But today, it didn't feel so heavy. Instead, it seemed to echo the warmth I felt inside, as though even its cold marble and stone walls couldn't quite contain my happiness.

As dusk fell, I returned to my room. The day had slipped away in a blur of thoughts about Wallace and the memory of his kiss.

Wallace had burrowed into my mind, and no amount of busywork could dislodge him.

I knew what was happening right now could only mean one thing...

I like Wallace.

So, I finally resigned myself to the fact that for today at least, I was hopelessly, utterly love-struck over him.

Lying in bed that night, I stared at the ornate canopy above me, tracing the intricate patterns in the fabric.

My fingers brushed against my lips and a faint smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

Wallace had somehow changed everything. And for once, I didn't mind at all.

...

𓇢𓆸

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