The morning was colder than usual, the frost outside stubbornly clinging to the thatched rooftops and bare branches. Inside the cottage, a faint warmth came from the embers in the hearth, though it did little to banish the chill. Mira sat at the table, her hands cradling a clay mug filled with leftover broth from last night’s dinner. The house was unusually quiet. Her father and brothers had gone to their work at dawn, and her mother was outside tending the chickens.

For the first time in days, Mira was alone.

She stared into the swirling remnants of broth, her mind wrestling with a storm of thoughts. Her father’s decision, the looming shadow of William, and the stifling inevitability of it all weighed heavily on her. She had always known her life would follow a certain path, but now that the path was laid bare before her, it felt more like a cage.

Mira’s grip on the mug tightened as frustration welled up inside her. “Is this all there is?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire.

The door creaked open, startling her. She looked up to see her mother stepping inside, a basket of eggs balanced on her hip. The cold had painted her cheeks red, and her breath puffed in small clouds as she shut the door behind her.

“You’re up early,” her mother said, setting the basket on the counter.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Mira replied, her voice subdued.

Her mother glanced at her with a knowing expression and sat down across from her. “I know what’s on your mind,” she said, folding her hands on the table. “And I understand. I do.”

Mira blinked, surprised. “You do?”

Her mother gave her a faint, wistful smile. “When I was your age, I felt the same way. I dreamed of… more. A life beyond these walls. But dreams don’t feed a family or keep a roof over your head.”

Mira felt a flicker of hope, quickly extinguished by her mother’s next words.

“I learned, as you will, that life is about duty. About making the best of what you have.”

“Duty,” Mira repeated, bitterness creeping into her tone. “What about happiness? What about… freedom?”

Her mother sighed, her smile fading. “Happiness doesn’t put food on the table. And freedom… freedom is a luxury few can afford. We don’t have that choice, Mira.”

The words hit Mira harder than she expected, leaving her silent. She looked down at her mug, her thoughts a swirling mess. Was this truly all there was? To accept, to endure, to live a life dictated by others?

Her mother reached out and placed a hand over Mira’s. “I know it’s hard. But you’re strong, Mira. You’ll find your way.”

Mira didn’t respond. The warmth of her mother’s hand was a comfort, but her words felt like chains. She wanted to scream, to argue, but what good would it do? Her father’s decision had been made, and her mother had long since accepted her place.

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But Mira hadn’t.

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The countryside stretched out before Mira as she wandered past the edge of the village later that day. The barren trees swayed gently in the winter wind, their branches stark against the pale gray sky. A narrow dirt path wound through the fields, leading to a small stream that cut through the landscape like a silver ribbon.

Mira crouched by the stream, her fingers trailing through the icy water. The cold bit at her skin, but she didn’t pull away. It grounded her, anchored her in the moment.

“I need to find a way out,” she murmured, her breath visible in the chill air.

But how? Every path she could imagine seemed blocked by the same unyielding walls: her father’s will, society’s expectations, and now the promise of marriage. If she resisted, she risked losing everything. If she complied, she risked losing herself.

Her thoughts were interrupted by movement in the distance. She looked up to see a figure weaving through the trees—William. He hadn’t noticed her yet, his attention focused on the trail before him and the bow slung over his shoulder.

Mira hesitated, unsure whether to stay hidden or confront him. But something inside her refused to stay silent. She stepped forward.

“William,” she called, her voice steady despite the uncertainty knotting her stomach.

He stopped and turned, his expression a smile. “Mira,” he said simply, his tone devoid of warmth.

“I need to ask you something,” Mira said, taking a small step forward. She wouldn’t back down this time. “Why do you agree to this marriage?” Her gaze hardened, her heart thudding in her chest. “What is it that makes you think this is a good idea?”

He paused, the smile fading slightly as he studied her. “Why wouldn’t I?” he said, his tone casual, almost dismissive. “You’re a girl with a good class, and you’re beautiful. Your parents are well-off, and that’s enough. Who wouldn’t want to marry you?”

Mira felt her stomach twist, the words hitting her like a slap. Beautiful. Well-off. A good class. As if her worth could be measured by those simple facts. It was as if he didn’t even see her as a person—just another part of a transaction.

“That’s not an answer,” she said, her voice sharper than she intended.

He gave her a quizzical look, as though he didn’t understand why she was upset. “Isn’t it?” he repeated, his lips curving upward. “What more is there to say? You’re a girl with everything a man could want in a wife. Why wouldn’t I agree to the match?”

Mira felt her hands clench into fists at her sides. She couldn’t let him think it was this simple. “Because maybe what you want, or what I want, should matter more than what our parents want,” she replied, her voice rising with frustration.

William chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “What you want?” he repeated, almost mockingly. “You’re a girl, Mira. It’s not your place to want. Your father makes the decisions, and you follow them. That’s the way of things.”

Her jaw clenched at his words, each one like a barb. She had heard this before from her father, but it stung just the same. It was as if her whole existence was reduced to nothing more than a pawn in some larger game.

“And you?” Mira demanded, stepping closer to him, her voice defiant. “Do you just follow what your father tells you, too? Do you ever question it? Or is it easier to just accept everything, because it’s easier than thinking for yourself?”

William’s smirk faded, replaced by something colder. “Careful, Mira,” he warned, his tone dropping low, a subtle threat in his voice.

“Why?” she shot back, her frustration flaring. “Because I’m not supposed to speak out of turn? Because I’m supposed to sit quietly and let other people decide my life for me?” She pointed a finger at him, her eyes fierce. “You might think you’re above all this because you’re a man, but you’re just as trapped as I am. At least I’m willing to fight for something better. What about you?”

William stared at her, his jaw tightening. For a moment, Mira thought she saw something shift in his expression—doubt, perhaps, or shame. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the same stony indifference.

“You don’t understand how the world works,” he said finally, his voice cold. “You think you can change everything with a few angry words, but that’s not how it goes. The world doesn’t care what you want, Mira. It never has.”

“And it never will if no one tries to change it,” she countered, her voice trembling with emotion.

William sighed, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the lines of his face. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that,” he muttered. “But boldness won’t change your father’s mind. Or mine.”

He started to walk away, but Mira called after him.

“So that’s it?” she demanded, her voice echoing across the empty fields. “You’re just going to go along with this because it’s easier than fighting for something that matters?”

He paused for a moment, not turning back. The weight of his silence was heavier than any answer he could give.

“I don’t have time for this,” William said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s too late.”

And with that, he disappeared into the shadows of the barn, leaving Mira alone with her thoughts. She stood there for a long time, her breath catching in her chest, as she realized that the battle she faced wasn’t just with William or her father—it was with a world that refused to see her as anything but what it had always expected her to be.

But Mira wasn’t ready to give up, not yet. She couldn’t.