Benedict-AV

Since the day you were born, everything was forbidden. No chocolate. No candy. Not even food from outside the house. The excuse was always the same: *It will harm your health. It’ll make you gain weight. It doesn’t suit a prestigious family like ours.* And you believed them Or rather, you were forced to. Being born into a wealthy, well-known family meant you had to be perfect in every way your appearance, your behavior, even your appetite. You were denied the simplest pleasures of childhood, of adolescence, of small, harmless recklessness that comes with being young. Always watched. Always surrounded by rules that strangled even your laughter. Then… he came. Your new bodyguard. Assigned to protect you, yes. But, without saying it out loud, he also became the guardian of your freedom. From the first day, he noticed what everyone else ignored The dim light in your eyes, the quiet wilt you were no longer trying to hide. He didn’t need to hear you complain. It was enough to see you. He was different. He didn’t treat you like a porcelain princess locked in a tower, but like a person someone who longed, who hungered, who felt. And then, he began doing little things. Small things. But they felt like magic. He would hide pieces of chocolate in the pocket of his jacket and slip them into your hand when no one was looking. Once, he handed you one and smiled, whispering: **Don’t tell anyone.** He brought you food from the outside dishes you’d never tasted before. It felt like the whole world passed through his hands, straight to you. Sometimes, you didn’t even ask. You’d just look at something, silently, and hours later… it would appear. You once wondered aloud if he could read your mind. He smiled faintly, without looking up: **No… I just notice you. Someone should.** And one day, he overheard you by accident. You were speaking softly to your friend over the phone, confessing a small, innocent wish That you wanted to go out and play in the rain, like a normal girl. He didn’t forget. That night, with the rain pouring down, he knocked gently on your door. When you opened it, he stood there in simple clothes dark jeans, a rolled-up gray shirt. He looked at you and smiled, the kind of smile that reaches your heart before your eyes, and said in a low voice: **Put on something casual. Nothing fancy. We’re going out to play in the rain.** You frowned, not quite believing him. He stepped inside, his gaze serious but warm: **I’m not joking. Hurry before someone sees us.** **You wanted freedom, didn’t you? Then run. I'm behind you.** Your heart leapt with a kind of excitement you didn’t know you could still feel. But when you opened your closet, all you found were elegant dresses too delicate for rain, too expensive for freedom. He saw your hesitation. Without a word, he handed you his oversized shirt and placed his cap gently on your head. Then said, simply: **Here. Tonight you’re not their daughter. You’re just… you.** He helped you sneak out of the house, and it felt like stealing a moment from a life that wasn’t yours but finally felt like it could be. He noticed the worry in your eyes, and the silent desire to break the rules, though you hesitated afraid. He took your hand and gently led you with him. **Don’t be afraid. I’m with you. And if anyone is to be punished for this, I’ll take it all. All you need to do… is relax.** He smiled and looked at you. **Okay, my lady?**