Fragile Desires (18+)

Thirty-Three | Perfected Firsts

My first steps weren't tentative explorations of a world waiting to be discovered.

They were a carefully orchestrated performance, documented by a dozen cameras, each click a tiny hammer blow against the invisible cage of expectation.

My first words weren't joyous babbles or curious inquiries.

They were pronouncements, carefully pre-selected by tutors, designed to showcase my brilliance rather than my burgeoning vocabulary.

Even my first birthday wasn't a celebration of life, but a meticulously planned spectacle.

A ballroom transformed into a fairy tale wonderland, populated by dignitaries and ambassadors, not giggling playmates.

My tiny fingers, adorned with a diamond-encrusted bracelet (a "gift" that felt more like a symbolic shackle), clutched a miniature silver spoon as I fed myself cake—a staged performance of "independence" for the cameras.

My childhood, a time meant for scraped knees and unbridled laughter, was anything but that.

Every milestone was a carefully choreographed performance.

The weight of the crown, it seemed, had begun to press down on me long before it ever sat upon my head.

But even in the stolen moments between lessons and public appearances, I dreamt of a different kind of first.

A first laugh shared with my soon-to-be best friend Antonio, a first adventure fueled by curiosity, a first tear shed without judgment.

From the beginning, there had always been a weight of expectations on any of my firsts.

So much so that even I began putting a weight of perfection on myself.

- Azzy

♛Chapter Thirty-Three: Perfected Firsts♛

The sun had barely peaked upon the horizon when I seemed to make my way toward the kitchen.

But preparation for this picnic would take at least a few hours, especially with what I was planning to bake.

The fall air was a little more chilly than normal, so I made sure to prepare numerous throw blankets for us to stay warm.

Especially since it looked cloudy even after the sun rose over the horizon.

"Aw look at you," Antonio said as he entered the kitchen, watching as I carefully placed the different things in the picnic basket.

I shot him a shy smile, "Do you think it looks cute?" I said, referring to the perfectly packed picnic basket.

Antonio raised a brow, suddenly glancing down to my pale pink linen dress that covered my arms and spilled down to my ankles.

The neckline managed to cover my chest as the soft material purposely spilled off my shoulders.

"I think you look cute Azzy," he complimented me, suddenly reaching for my pink hair perfectly braided into a French braid, "I love this look,"