BELLE did not know how long she remained in the library, her mind swirling with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. She couldn't shake the memory of the Prince's unexpected outburst, the bitterness in his voice lingering in her mind.
Despite his harsh words, she couldn't help but feel a sense of empathy towards him, a desire to understand the pain hidden beneath his façade of stoicism.
As she continued her work, organizing the shelves and dusting off the ancient tomes, Belle found herself lost in her thoughts, her mind drifting back to the conversation she had shared with the Prince. His words had left an indelible mark on her, stirring something deep within her heart. Love, she thought, reflecting on the Prince's cynical view of the emotion.
Could it truly be as elusive and fleeting as he believed? Or was it possible that love was just waiting to be discovered, hidden beneath his layers of pain and regret?
Lost in her musings, Belle was startled when Mrs. Potts returned to the library to collect her, her arrival pulling Belle from her reverie.
Belle remained in the library, her mind swirling with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. She couldn't shake the memory of the Prince's outburst, the bitterness in his voice lingering in her mind. Despite his harsh words, she couldn't help but feel a sense of empathy towards him, a desire to understand the pain that lay hidden beneath his facade of stoicism.
As she continued her work, organizing the shelves and dusting off the ancient tomes, Belle found herself lost in her thoughts, her mind drifting back to the conversation she had shared with the Prince. His words had left a mark on her, stirring something deep within her heart.
Love, she thought, reflecting on the Prince's cynical view of the emotion. Could it truly be as elusive and fleeting as he believed? Or was it possible that love was just waiting to be discovered, hidden beneath layers of pain and regret?
Lost in her musings, Belle was startled when Mrs. Potts returned to the library, her arrival pulling Belle from her reverie.
"Is everything alright, dear?" Mrs. Potts asked, her voice filled with concern as she approached Belle.
Belle nodded, offering Mrs. Potts a small smile. "Yes, everything's fine," she reassured her, though her thoughts still lingered on the Prince and the unexpected dinner invitation.
Mrs. Potts studied her for a moment, her gaze shrewd as she seemed to sense Belle's distraction. "You seem preoccupied, my dear," she observed gently. "Is something on your mind?"
Belle hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal. She trusted Mrs. Potts, but she wasn't sure if she was ready to share the details of her conversation with the Prince.
"It's nothing, really," she replied evasively, hoping to brush off Mrs. Potts' concerns.
But Mrs. Potts wasn't so easily deterred. She regarded Belle with a knowing look, her expression filled with understanding.
"You know you can confide in me, dear," she said gently, her voice reassuring. "Whatever is troubling you, I'm here to listen."
Belle sighed softly, knowing that she couldn't keep her thoughts bottled up any longer. She trusted Mrs. Potts, and she knew that she could offer valuable insight and support.
"It's the Prince," Belle admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "We had a... a conversation earlier, and it left me feeling... unsettled."
Mrs. Potts nodded understandingly, her expression sympathetic.
"I see," she murmured, urging Belle to continue.
Belle took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before she spoke.
"He... he spoke of love," she explained haltingly, her words coming out in a rush. "And how he believes it's... it's nothing but a cruel illusion. He's... he's convinced that it's not meant for him, that it's just a fantasy for the fortunate few."
Mrs. Potts listened quietly, her gaze filled with compassion as Belle poured out her thoughts and feelings. She knew that the Prince's cynical view of love stemmed from his own painful experiences, but she couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness at the thought of someone denying themselves the possibility of love.
"That poor dear," Mrs. Potts murmured sympathetically, her heart aching for the Prince. "It's clear that he's been deeply wounded by his past."
Belle nodded in agreement, her own heart heavy with empathy for the Prince's pain. "I just wish... I wish there was something I could do to help him," she admitted softly, her voice filled with genuine concern.
Mrs. Potts smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling with kindness. "You've already done more than you know, my dear," she reassured Belle. "Your kindness and compassion are a beacon of light in his darkness. Perhaps with time, you can help him see that love is not the enemy, but a gift to be cherished."
Belle's heart swelled with gratitude at Mrs. Potts' words, her resolve strengthened by the knowledge that she had the power to make a difference, no matter how small.
"Thank you, Mrs. Potts," she said earnestly, her voice tinged with determination. "I won't give up on him. I'll show him that love is real, even if he can't see it yet."
Mrs. Potts nodded approvingly, her eyes shining with pride.
"That's the spirit, dear," she said warmly. "With your gentle guidance, I do not doubt that the Prince will come to see the truth in time."
Belle's heart raced with a mixture of excitement and apprehension as her thoughts drifted to the Prince's unexpected dinner invitation.
She couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation at the thought of sharing a meal with him, yet she couldn't shake the lingering doubts that nagged at the back of her mind.
Turning to face Mrs. Potts, Belle couldn't contain her news any longer. "Mrs. Potts, there's…something else, too, the Prince, he…he came to see me and left earlier, but before he did, he asked me to join him for dinner tonight," she blurted out, her voice filled with disbelief.
Mrs. Potts gasped, her eyes widening with astonishment as she struggled to find words to express her surprise.
"Oh, my dear, that's... that's quite remarkable," she exclaimed, her voice trembling with amazement. "To leave such an impression on the master of the castle in such a short time—it's truly remarkable."
Belle felt a mix of excitement and apprehension at Mrs. Potts' reaction, grateful for her support yet unsure of what lay ahead.
"It's... it's hard to believe," she confessed softly, her voice filled with wonder. "I'm not entirely sure what to expect, but I suppose I'll find out soon enough." Belle's apprehension deepened as she confessed her doubts to Mrs. Potts. "I can't fathom what the Prince could want with someone like me," she admitted with a furrowed brow. "He has nothing to offer me, and to be perfectly honest, I find him rude, insufferable, and arrogant."
Mrs. Potts chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement at Belle's candor.
"My dear, your honesty is refreshing," she remarked with a warm smile. "But perhaps there's more to the Prince than meets the eye. People aren't always as they appear at first glance."
Belle considered Mrs. Potts' words, her skepticism lingering despite the older woman's reassurance.
"I suppose I'll reserve judgment until I learn more," she conceded with a nod. "But I can't deny feeling a sense of trepidation about what lies ahead."
Mrs. Potts smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling with excitement.
"I do not doubt that you'll handle yourself with grace and poise, my dear," she said reassuringly. "Just be yourself, and everything will be fine."
With Mrs. Potts' words of encouragement ringing in her ears, Belle allowed a faint ghost of a smile to tug at her lips, grateful for her encouragement. Her thoughts were consumed by the prospect of spending time alone with the Prince.
She found herself pondering what the evening held in store and what mysteries were veiled behind the castle master's inscrutable demeanor. Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of Mrs. Potts clearing her throat to gain her attention. As Belle turned towards the older woman, she was taken aback to see Mrs. Potts studying her with a contemplative gaze.
"Dear, I couldn't help but notice that your current attire might not be appropriate for dining with the Prince," Mrs. Potts remarked gently, her voice carrying a hint of concern.
Belle glanced down at her modest dress, suddenly feeling uneasy under Mrs. Potts' observant eye. "You're right," she conceded reluctantly. "I hadn't considered that."
Mrs. Potts offered a reassuring smile, her eyes glinting mischievously. "No need to fret, my dear. I'm confident we can find something more fitting for the occasion. Come with me, I know just the person to assist us."
Curiosity piqued, Belle couldn't help but inquire, "Who might that be?"
Without glancing back as Mrs. Potts motioned for Belle to follow her out of the library, she replied, "It's Babette, another maid under my command, and Lumiere's love."
Intrigued by the prospect of meeting Lumiere's love, Belle followed Mrs. Potts through the winding corridors of the castle, eventually arriving at the servants' wing. Mrs. Potts knocked on a door that swung open to reveal a young woman a few years older than Belle. She had a scowl etched upon her face, which only deepened when she laid eyes on Belle.
"What's she doing here with you?" she asked Mrs. Potts, her tone curt and dismissive. "Is there something I can help you with?" Ignoring Belle entirely, the woman's demeanor remained cold as she spoke to Mrs. Potts, her gaze fixed solely on the older woman.
Babette, as Mrs. Potts had called her, was undeniably beautiful, with dark brown hair cut in a short style, the locks framing her face reaching her chin, with frontal bangs adding a touch of flair. Her fair skin accentuated her features, and despite her petite frame, she possessed a generous bust and a slender figure. Despite Babette's chilly reception, Belle couldn't help but be struck by her beauty and aura of confidence.
Mrs. Potts appeared visibly puzzled by Babette's chilly reception, her brows knitting together in concern. "Babette, dear, we've come to ask for your assistance," she explained gently. "Belle here needs a suitable attire for dinner tonight with the Prince. He's asked her to join him, and she cannot go in what she's currently wearing."
Babette's scowl softened slightly at the mention of Belle's need for help, but she remained reserved. "I see," she responded curtly, still avoiding Belle's gaze.
Feeling a bit uncomfortable with Babette's demeanor, Belle tried to engage the older woman in conversation. "I hope I'm not imposing on you, Babette," Belle said with a soft smile, trying to break the tension in the room. "I truly appreciate any help you can offer."
Babette sighed, her demeanor softening just a fraction. "It's not about you, dear. It's just... well, you see, I've been feeling a bit out of sorts lately."
Mrs. Potts gently placed a comforting hand on Babette's arm. "Is everything alright, my dear?"
Babette's anger simmered as she turned towards Belle. "Because of you, Lumiere was nearly dismissed," she accused, her voice tinged with frustration.
Before Belle could respond, Mrs. Potts interjected gently, "Actually, Babette, the walk the other night around the castle grounds was Lumiere's idea."
Babette's expression softened as she absorbed Mrs. Potts' words. She glanced back at Belle, a mixture of apology and understanding in her eyes. "I... I didn't realize," she admitted quietly.
Babette's brows furrowed in surprise. "He... He didn't mention it," she murmured, her tone softening further as realization dawned upon her.
Mrs. Potts nodded sympathetically. "He probably didn't want to make a fuss about it," she suggested, her voice carrying a note of reassurance.
Belle offered a small smile. "I've not known him long, but I know enough to know what kind of man he is. Lumiere is the type of man who looks out for everyone, even if he doesn't seek recognition for it," she remarked, admiration evident in her words.
Babette's features softened, a sense of gratitude washing over her. "I see that now," she admitted, a hint of warmth returning to her demeanor. "I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions, Belle."
Belle shook her head gently. "No need to apologize, Babette. We all have our moments," she said, extending a forgiving hand towards her.
With a grateful nod, Babette reached out, accepting Belle's gesture of reconciliation.
"Thank you," she murmured sincerely.
Mrs. Potts cleared her throat, sensing the tension in the air.
"Well, if you could assist Belle in finding something suitable to wear, Babette, I would be most grateful. I'll leave you two to it," she interjected, trying to diffuse the atmosphere.
With a nod, Mrs. Potts excused herself, leaving Belle and Babette alone in the room.
Alone now, Belle and Babette exchanged a moment of silent understanding. Babette took a deep breath, her previous anger dissipating in the wake of newfound clarity.
"Mademoiselle, I'm sorry again. I let my emotions get the best of me, something Lumiere is always scolding me for," Babette admitted, her voice carrying a genuine regret.
Belle offered a warm smile. "It's alright, Babette. We all have our moments of misunderstanding," she reassured the older woman.
Babette nodded gratefully, appreciating Belle's tolerance, and understanding.
"Thank you for being so forgiving," she said sincerely. Babette studied Belle for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. "I think I can see why the master finds you so intriguing," she remarked softly, to Belle's surprise, before turning away to rummage through her wardrobe, searching for an appropriate dress for Belle.
As she sifted through the garments, Belle couldn't help but feel a mixture of curiosity and warmth at Babette's comment. She watched the older woman move about the room with a sense of purpose, admiring her dedication to making amends.
After a few moments, Babette emerged with a delicate gown in hand.
"This should do nicely," she said with a smile, holding out the dress for Belle to inspect, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction as she held out a stunning gown crafted from rich velvet in a deep emerald green. "The green will complement your dark hair beautifully."
Belle's eyes lit up with appreciation as she took in the elegant fabric and intricate details.
"It's beautiful, Babette. Thank you," she said sincerely, touched by the gesture.
Babette returned her smile, her earlier tension replaced by a sense of camaraderie.
"It's the least I can do," she replied warmly, eager to set things right between them. Babette chuckled softly. "I won't mind letting you borrow it, but I expect it back as clean as it is now," she said playfully, though her tone held a hint of seriousness.
Belle nodded earnestly, understanding the importance of taking care of such a precious item.
"Of course, Babette. I'll be sure to return it in pristine condition," she promised, grateful for the opportunity to wear such a beautiful dress.
Babette chuckled softly as she noticed Belle's disheveled hair. "Your hair is a bit of a mess, but don't worry, we can work with it," she said with a playful wink, her fingers deftly gathering Belle's locks.
Belle smiled appreciatively as Babette began to work her magic, skillfully arranging her hair into an elegant style that complemented the dress. As Babette wove delicate braids and twisted strands into place, Belle felt a sense of camaraderie and warmth envelop her.
"You have such skill with hair," Belle remarked, admiring Babette's expertise.
Babette grinned, her eyes sparkling with pride. "Years of practice," she replied modestly, though there was a hint of satisfaction in her voice.
Once the final touches were in place, Babette stepped back to admire her handiwork. "There," she declared with a satisfied nod, "You look positively enchanting."
Belle's reflection in the mirror confirmed Babette's words. The elegant gown, paired with the meticulously styled hair, transformed her into a vision of beauty.
"Thank you, Babette," Belle said sincerely, touched by the older woman's kindness and skill.
Babette smiled warmly. "It was my pleasure, dear Belle," she said, her eyes twinkling with affection. "Now, you shouldn't keep the master waiting. Let me take you to the dining room?"
With a nod and a smile, Belle linked her arm with Babette's, grateful for the friendship that had blossomed between them and eager to share the evening's festivities with her newfound companion. As Belle and Babette strolled towards the dining room, Belle felt grateful for Babette's company, the warmth of their friendship wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. Any lingering nerves she might have had about the evening melted away.
Upon entering the grand hall, Belle's eyes widened in awe. The soft flicker of candlelight bathed the room in a warm and inviting glow, creating an ambiance that welcomed them both.
As Babette guided her inside, she linked her arm with Belle's and led her to a seat near the grand hall's entrance.
"Here we are, Belle. Make yourself comfortable," she said with a warm smile.
Belle settled into the seat, her eyes still drawn to the enchanting candlelit ambiance. "Thank you, Babette. Everything looks so beautiful," she remarked, her voice filled with awe.
Babette nodded, her excitement evident. "Indeed, it's a special night," she replied. "The Prince should be arriving shortly. I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time."
Belle nodded, a flutter of anticipation building within her. "I hope so," she said softly.
Babette leaned in, her voice conspiratorial. "And tomorrow morning, over breakfast, you simply must tell me all about it," she urged, a playful gleam in her eye. "I can't wait to hear every detail."
A smile tugged at Belle's lips as she nodded in agreement. "I look forward to it, Babette. I hope we can spend more time together," she said earnestly.
Babette's smile widened, her warmth evident. "Oh, absolutely," she exclaimed. "I would love that. I hope to get to know you better, Belle."
With that, Babette left Belle to await the Prince's arrival, leaving her with a sense of excitement for the evening ahead and the promise of a blossoming friendship to come.
As Babette left and Belle found herself alone in the grand hall, a wave of nervousness washed over her. The grandeur of the room suddenly seemed overwhelming, and the anticipation of meeting the Prince felt like a weight upon her shoulders.
She fidgeted with the fabric of her dress, her thoughts racing.
What if she said the wrong thing? What if she tripped over her own feet?
The doubts crept in, threatening to dampen her excitement for the evening. Taking a deep breath, Belle reminded herself of Babette's encouraging words and the warmth of her friendship. She squared her shoulders, determined not to let her nerves get the best of her.
"I can do this," she whispered to herself, willing her heartbeat to steady.
With renewed resolve, Belle focused on the soft flicker of candlelight and the promise of the evening ahead, determined to make the most of this opportunity.
As she waited, Belle's nerves slowly began to settle. She reminded herself of the reasons she had been looking forward to this evening: the chance to meet the Prince, the excitement of the festivities, and the joy of spending time with her newfound friend, Babette.
With each passing moment, Belle's anticipation grew, mingling with a newfound sense of confidence. She straightened her posture and smoothed her dress, ready to greet the Prince with grace and poise.
As the minutes ticked by, the grand hall seemed to come alive with anticipation. Belle's senses heightened, and every sound and flicker of movement seemed to signal the imminent arrival of the Prince. Finally, the doors at the far end of the hall swung open, and Belle's heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of the Prince entering the room.
As the Prince approached, Belle rose to her feet, and as he did, her nerves returned once more and began to get the best of her. She stumbled over her words, her greeting coming out in a nervous rush.
"H-hello, Your Highness," she stammered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
To her horror, as she gestured with her hand, she nearly knocked over the delicate cup that had been set meticulously near her place setting. She caught it just in time, her heart pounding with pure mortification.
The Prince's response was less than comforting. He scoffed and rolled his eyes at her near mishap, a hint of annoyance flickering across his features.
"Careful there," he remarked dryly, his tone tinged with impatience. "We wouldn't want any accidents, Belle, would we?" he asked.
Belle's cheeks burned even brighter as she struggled to compose herself in the face of the Prince's disapproval. She forced a tight smile, her confidence shaken but determination still intact.
"Of course, Your Highness," she replied, her voice trembling slightly. "My apologies."
With a dismissive nod, the Prince moved on, leaving Belle to wonder if she would ever be able to recover from such an embarrassing start to the evening.
Feeling flustered, Belle quickly obeyed the Prince's command to sit down and took her seat as he motioned with a wave of his arm for her to occupy the seat between him and the meal. Belle could only comply.
She glanced around nervously, feeling the weight of the Prince's intense gaze upon her. As she fumbled with her napkin, the Prince chuckled softly.
"Relax, lady, won't you?" he said, his tone softening slightly. "Despite what you may think of me, Belle, I'm not a monster, I'm not an accursed Beast from the fairy stories parents tell their children to force them to behave. I don't bite."
Belle managed a weak smile, grateful for his attempt to lighten the mood.
"Ah, thank you, Your Highness," she replied, her voice still tinged with uncertainty.
With a reassuring nod, the Prince turned his attention to the meal in front of him, leaving Belle to collect herself and focus on attempting to enjoy the evening ahead. Though her nerves still lingered, she was determined not to let them overshadow this opportunity.
The Prince's gruff voice caught Belle off guard as he spoke, "I'm glad you accepted my invitation."
Belle blinked, feeling a mixture of confusion and indignation.
"Accepted? Your Highness, you didn't exactly give me a choice," she pointed out, her tone respectful but firm. "You commanded me to come."
The Prince's expression softened slightly, and he sighed, realizing his error.
"You're right, Belle. I apologize if my manner was too commanding," he admitted, a hint of regret in his voice. "I merely wanted your company for the evening, but I see now that I may have been too forceful."
Belle nodded, appreciating his acknowledgment. "Thank you, Your Highness. I understand," she replied graciously, her earlier nerves beginning to dissipate as they settled into a more honest exchange. Belle's confusion lingered as she dared to voice her perplexity. "Your Highness, if I may ask, why did you want my company?" she inquired, her brow furrowed with genuine curiosity. "I have nothing to offer you, and our statuses are vastly different."
The Prince regarded her with a thoughtful expression before responding, "True, mademoiselle, our backgrounds may differ, but your perspective, your…unconventionality, if you will, intrigues me." He paused, his gaze meeting hers intensely. "And besides, in a castle filled with flattery and superficiality, your honesty is a breath of fresh air, even if at times, a painful one."
Belle's cheeks warmed with a blush at his unexpected compliment. "Thank you, Your Highness," she murmured, touched by his sincerity.
As the evening progressed, Belle found herself engaged in conversation with the Prince, their initial awkwardness giving way to a genuine connection. They discussed literature, art, and philosophy, discovering shared interests and differing perspectives that sparked lively debates.
Despite their differences in status and upbringing, Belle found herself drawn to the Prince's intelligence and wit, while he, in turn, admired her passion and independent spirit.
As time unfolded, they shared laughter, debates, and glimpses beyond the titles and expectations that once divided them. With midnight's chime marking the evening's end, Belle and the Prince exchanged a lingering glance brimming with unspoken understanding, aware that this night had altered something between them.
In the ensuing silence, weighted with significance, the Prince softened, drawing a deep breath, his sincerity evident in the gentle shift of his expression.
"I owe you an apology, Belle," he began, his voice tinged with remorse. "Sending you to the tower was unjust, and I realize now the isolation and loneliness it entails. Unfortunately, it's a fate I know all too well."
Belle regarded him with empathy, her curiosity piqued by his vulnerable confession. "What do you mean?" she inquired gently.
The Prince hesitated for a moment before continuing, his gaze distant as he delved into painful memories.
"As a young boy, whenever I misbehaved, my father would send me to the tower. Sometimes for days on end. It was meant to teach me a lesson, I suppose, but all it taught me was how to endure solitude."
Belle's heart went out to him, the revelation shedding new light on the complexities of his upbringing.
"I'm sorry you had to experience that," she murmured, reaching out a hand in silent solidarity.
The Prince offered a grateful smile, touched by Belle's empathy. "Thank you, Belle. It means more than you know. And, given our conversation so far this evening, I think it's best if you no longer stay in the tower. It was bad enough that Father subjected me to that wretched place."
As the Prince's offer hung in the air, Belle's surprise was palpable, mingled with a deep sense of gratitude and uncertainty. She met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions as she processed his words.
"You're no longer confined to the tower, Belle," the Prince said, his voice gentle yet resolute. "You're free to explore the East Wing and make yourself at home there."
Belle felt a rush of relief flood through her at his words, the prospect of newfound freedom stirring a sense of hope within her.
"Thank you," she replied softly, her voice tinged with emotion. "I appreciate your kindness, truly."
The Prince nodded, his expression understanding as he observed the turmoil still evident in Belle's eyes.
"I see it in your eyes, Belle," he continued gently. "The regret you carry for what happened in the woods. But punishing yourself won't change what occurred."
Belle's gaze faltered slightly, the memory of Gaston's aggression toward Lumiere weighing heavily on her conscience.
"I know," she admitted quietly, her tone laced with guilt. "But it's difficult not to feel responsible."
The Prince looked away for a moment seemingly to collect himself.
"Sometimes, forgiveness begins with ourselves," he offered softly. "And I believe you've suffered enough." In his words, Belle found a glimmer of solace, a beacon of hope illuminating the path toward healing. With a grateful smile, she nodded, silently accepting his kindness and the opportunity to start anew.
Belle hesitated, her curiosity tugging at her once more.
"I appreciate your understanding," she began tentatively, "but there's something I've been wondering about. Your history with Gaston... seems complicated. Would you mind sharing more?"
The Prince's demeanor shifted subtly, a guarded expression crossing his features as he considered Belle's inquiry.
"I'm afraid that's a part of my past I'd rather not revisit," he replied evenly, his tone firm yet tinged with a hint of sadness.
Belle sensed his reluctance, but her curiosity persisted, fueled by a desire to understand the complexities of the Prince's life before their paths crossed.
"I understand," she murmured, though disappointment flickered briefly in her eyes. Silence enveloped them for a moment, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire nearby. Belle glanced at the Prince, noting the traces of vulnerability that lingered beneath his stoic facade. "Thank you for being honest with me," she said softly, her voice infused with empathy. "I won't press further."
The Prince offered her a grateful smile, a silent acknowledgment of her understanding.
"I appreciate your understanding, Belle," he replied, his tone warm with gratitude. "There are some chapters of our lives that are best left closed."
With a shared understanding, Belle and the Prince allowed the conversation to drift, content in the quiet companionship they found in each other's presence.
As the conversation veered away from the past, Belle and the Prince settled into a comfortable silence, the weight of unspoken words lingering between them. Sensing Belle's growing weariness, the Prince spoke up, his voice gentle yet decisive.
"I believe it's time for you to retire for the night, Belle," he said, a hint of concern coloring his tone. "You're free to choose any room in the East Wing that suits you."
Belle nodded gratefully, the prospect of rest welcoming after the emotional rollercoaster of the evening.
"Thank you," she murmured, offering him a warm smile. "Goodnight, and thank you for everything." As she turned to leave, Belle surprised the Prince with her parting words. "You're not who I thought you were," she confessed, her voice soft yet resolute. "And I'm glad."
The Prince's expression flickered with a mixture of surprise and curiosity, his gaze meeting Belle's with newfound understanding.
Before he could respond, Belle offered him a final smile and exited through the doorway, her silhouette bathed in the soft glow of the torches lining the corridor.
