The first year of Edward’s service had changed everything.
Before he left, Princess Evelyn had believed that waiting would be difficult, but manageable.
She had imagined herself counting the months until his return, reading his letters, looking toward the eastern road, and dreaming about the day he would finally walk through the palace gates again.
She had been wrong.
Waiting was not simply the absence of someone.
It was learning how to live with their absence.
It was waking each morning and remembering that the person you loved was not beside you.
It was sitting among hundreds of people and still feeling completely alone.
It was hearing laughter in the palace corridors while your own heart remained quiet.
And for Evelyn, every passing day made Edward’s absence more real.
Yet there was one thing that kept her from completely losing hope.
His letters.
They had continued their secret correspondence throughout his service.
Whenever Edward could find time, he wrote to her.
Whenever Evelyn received his letters, she answered.
Their words traveled secretly between the palace and the distant military camps, carried by trusted servants who understood the importance of their love.
The letters became their lifeline.
Through them, they remained close even when the kingdom kept them apart.
Months turned into seasons.
Then seasons became years.
Edward’s first year of service ended.
His second year began.
Then his third.
The dangerous trials continued.
Each year brought another challenge.
Each year brought another test of his courage.
And each year, Evelyn waited.
At first, she counted the days.
Then she began counting the months.
Eventually, she stopped counting altogether.
The number seven had once seemed like an impossible distance.
Now she understood how long seven years truly were.
Sometimes she stood in the palace garden and wondered how many flowers would bloom before Edward returned.
She remembered the first time they had walked together beneath the trees.
She remembered his smile.
His voice.
The way he looked at her whenever he thought she was not watching.
Those memories were precious.
But sometimes they hurt.
Because memories could not replace a person.
One evening, Evelyn sat alone beneath the old tree in the royal garden.
Lady Clara approached quietly.
“You have been sitting here for hours.”
Evelyn looked up.
“I know.”
“You should come inside.”
“In a moment.”
Lady Clara sat beside her.
“Are you thinking about Edward?”
Evelyn smiled faintly.
“When am I not?”
Lady Clara did not answer.
There was no need.
That night, another letter arrived.
Evelyn recognized Edward’s handwriting immediately.
Her hands trembled as she opened it.
“My beloved Evelyn,
Today was difficult.
The king’s soldiers and I traveled for several days through the northern territory.
The work was exhausting, but I am safe.
Sometimes I wish I could simply close my eyes and wake up beside you.
I miss the palace.
But more than the palace, I miss you.
Please remember that every difficult day brings me closer to the day when I can return.
Do not allow loneliness to convince you that you are alone.
My heart is with you.
Edward.”
Evelyn read the letter twice.
Then she pressed it against her chest.
“My heart is with you too,” she whispered.
But when she lowered the letter, tears had already begun falling.
She wanted him beside her.
Not in ink.
Not in memory.
Not in dreams.
She wanted him there.
As the years passed, Evelyn began creating a world in her imagination.
It started innocently.
Whenever she felt lonely, she would close her eyes and imagine Edward standing beside her.
But eventually, the fantasy became more detailed.
She began imagining the life they would have after his service.
One afternoon, she walked through an unused section of the royal estate.
There was a small house surrounded by trees.
It was old and quiet.
Evelyn stood outside it.
She looked at the garden.
“This would be perfect.”
She began imagining it.
The house would belong to her and Edward.
Not the grand palace.
Not a place filled with servants and royal ceremonies.
Just a home.
Their home.
She imagined waking beside Edward every morning.
She imagined opening the curtains and seeing sunlight spreading across the garden.
She imagined hearing his voice before she even left the bedroom.
She imagined preparing breakfast together.
She imagined Edward teasing her when she burned the bread.
She could almost hear his laughter.
She smiled.
Then she imagined children.
Their children.
A little girl running through the garden with flowers in her hands.
A young boy chasing butterflies.
Edward following behind them, pretending to be angry because they had made a mess.
Evelyn imagined herself laughing.
She imagined gathering the children into her arms.
She imagined Edward standing beside her.
And in that moment, the loneliness disappeared.
For a few precious minutes, everything felt real.
She could see the house.
She could hear the children.
She could feel Edward’s hand in hers.
She could almost believe that the seven years were already over.
She closed her eyes.
“We are home,” she whispered.
Her fantasy became a place she visited whenever reality became too painful.
Sometimes she imagined their future during the day.
Sometimes at night.
She would lie in bed and picture Edward returning through the palace gates.
He would walk toward her.
She would run into his arms.
He would hold her tightly.
Then they would leave the palace together and begin the life they had dreamed about.
She imagined their wedding.
She imagined wearing a beautiful white gown.
She imagined Edward standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for her.
She imagined his expression when he saw her.
She imagined the vows.
The celebration.
The music.
The moment when they would finally be husband and wife.
Then her imagination would move beyond the wedding.
She would see their home.
Their family.
Their children.
Their peaceful evenings.
She imagined sitting beside Edward beneath a tree while their children played nearby.
Sometimes she imagined growing old with him.
Their hair turning gray.
Their children becoming adults.
Their grandchildren visiting the same garden.
And Edward would still be holding her hand.
Forever.
It was the kind of future that made her heart ache because she wanted it so badly.
But it was also the future that kept her alive through the loneliness.
One evening, Evelyn sat at her desk and began writing to Edward.
“My beloved,
Today I visited a little house near the western garden.
It made me think about the home we will have someday.
I imagined you there.
I imagined waking up beside you.
I imagined children running through our garden.
I imagined you trying to discipline them while secretly laughing at everything they do.
I imagined us growing old together.
Perhaps it is foolish to imagine so much.
But when I imagine our future, the years of waiting do not feel so long.
In my dreams, you have already returned.
In my dreams, we are already together.
And sometimes the dream feels so real that when I open my eyes, I am surprised to find myself alone.
Edward, please keep fighting.
I am still here.
Still waiting.
Still loving you.
Evelyn.”
She folded the letter.
But before giving it to Maria, she paused.
She looked at the words again.
Then she smiled.
“One day,” she whispered.
“One day, this will not be a dream.”
Edward received the letter several weeks later.
The soldiers around him were preparing for the next day’s journey.
But Edward barely noticed them.
He could see Evelyn in his mind.
He could see the little house she had described.
He could see children running through the garden.
He could see himself standing beside her.
For the first time in months, the hardships of his service seemed lighter.
He took out his pen.
“My Evelyn,
Your dream is now my dream too.
I can see the house you described.
I can see our children.
I can see you waiting for me in the garden.
And I promise you something.
I will do everything within my strength to make that future real.
The trials may be difficult.
The years may be long.
But I have never forgotten why I began this journey.
I began it because I love you.
And I will finish it for the same reason.
Wait for me.
One day, the dreams we share through letters will become the life we live together.
Edward.”
Evelyn received his response during the fourth year.
By then, loneliness had become familiar.
But it had never become easy.
There were days when she was surrounded by people and felt completely isolated.
There were evenings when she wanted to speak to Edward and realized that the only way she could hear his voice was inside her memories.
She began to understand that love required more than affection.
It required patience.
Trust.
Faith.
And the courage to remain when distance tested everything.
There were moments when doubt whispered into her heart.
What if he changed?
What if the years changed them?
What if he returned and they were no longer the same people who had fallen in love in the royal garden?
But whenever those thoughts appeared, another voice answered.
His voice.
The voice in his letters.
The voice that promised he would return.
So Evelyn continued waiting.
One rainy evening, she stood at her bedroom window.
Rain covered the palace gardens.
She held one of Edward’s old letters in her hand.
She had read it so many times that the paper had become soft from her fingers.
She smiled through her tears.
“Wherever you are, Edward, I hope you are safe.”
She closed her eyes.
And once again, she entered the world she had created in her heart.
She saw the house.
The garden.
The children.
Edward.
He was standing beside her.
His hand was holding hers.
Their children were laughing nearby.
The sun was setting.
Everything was peaceful.
She leaned against his shoulder.
“We made it,” she whispered.
Edward smiled.
“We did.”
Evelyn opened her eyes.
The dream disappeared.
The rain remained.
The empty room remained.
Edward was still far away.
But this time, she did not cry.
She smiled.
Because the dream had reminded her of something important.
The future had not arrived yet.
But it was still waiting for them.
And as long as Edward continued fighting his way through the years of service, and as long as Evelyn continued believing in their love, their dream remained possible.
She placed the letter carefully inside a wooden box where she kept every message Edward had ever sent her.
Then she closed the lid.
“One more year,” she whispered.
The years of waiting had tested her.
The loneliness had wounded her.
The distance had frightened her.
But none of them had destroyed her love.
Evelyn walked away from the window.
She carried hope with her.
And somewhere far away, Edward was carrying the same hope.
Their lives were separated by mountains, duties, and years.
But their hearts remained connected by something stronger than distance.
Love.
And neither of them was willing to let it go.