The garden was bathed in the golden glow of the fading sunlight, 

casting soft shadows over the trimmed grass and lavish flower beds. The lavender blossoms swayed with the breeze, 

releasing their soothing fragrance into the air,

 while climbing jasmine and wild roses wound around the white marble columns of the open pavilion at the heart of the garden.

 It resembled an ancient temple,

 a blend of Roman architecture and aristocratic touches, draped in the shade of grapevines and blue flowers.

In this corner of earthly paradise

, Aurora Valeska sat, leaning on the white marble table, her delicate hand idly toying with the rim of her teacup

. She wore her pale yellow dress, devoid of any embellishments, yet it seemed as if it had been tailored just for her, as though woven from moonlight itself. Her long platinum hair,

 with its violet undertones, cascaded over her shoulders like a silver waterfall, its ends dancing with the passing breeze.

Across from her, Monica Diale sat with one leg crossed over the other, her back straight like a true lady of high society, 

her meticulously styled red hair lending her a mature and alluring appearance. Her flowing blue dress, 

edged with soft lace at the neckline, accentuated her femininity in a grand yet effortless manner. She sipped her coffee slowly

, her golden eyes glinting with a hidden mischief.

"Riri, haven't you heard yet?"

She spoke in a dramatic tone, placing her cup gently on the table.

Aurora raised an eyebrow,

 resisting the growing curiosity within her. "Heard what?"

Monica smirked slightly as she leaned back.

"Duke Elias is married.

 And his wife is already pregnant."

Aurora's relaxed grip nearly let the cup slip from her fingers, but she caught herself at the last moment

. Taking a deep breath, she looked at Monica, attempting to appear indifferent.

"Really? And who is the lady who has stolen his heart?"

"Ines."

The name echoed in her mind as if it had been thrown into a bottomless well. She remembered it from the novel—the divorced woman who had captured the hero's heart, who, 

despite her past, had not rejected him but accepted him despite the opposition of aristocratic society.

Monica continued in a tone filled with excitement:"And it seems she didn't settle for merely seducing the duke;

 she also broke Prince Strathmore's heart."

Aurora's fingers froze for a moment, 

but she concealed her turmoil behind a mask of feigned calm.

"Prince Strathmore?"

Monica tilted her head slightly, 

as if savoring the name on her tongue."Ah, 

Kyle Strathmore… Poor man. He loved her since childhood, 

yet in the end, he wasn't her choice. She chose a stronger man, one with more power."

Aurora took a small sip of her coffee, trying to hide her true expression. She already knew how the novel ended, but hearing it this way… made it feel more real.

But this was no longer the original story. 

This was her life now.

Before she could sink further into her thoughts, Monica placed an ornate envelope in front of her. Her long fingers moved gracefully as she slid it gently toward her.

"Before you drown in your shock,

 I have something else for you… A letter."

Aurora stared at the envelope for a moment before slowly picking it up. She carefully unfolded the paper, her eyes scanning the lines. Suddenly, 

she lifted her gaze and shut the letter, placing it under her hand as if protecting it from being stolen.

"Whose is this?" 

Monica asked with growing curiosity.

Aurora smiled, a sly glint in her eyes.

"I don't think I'll tell you just yet… But don't worry, I won't make fun of anyone's feelings."

Monica pretended to pout but didn't press further. 

She stood up, smoothed the folds of her dress,

 and said in a playful tone,"Well, this was fun. You'll be visiting my house soon, right? Or are you going to forget our friendship?"

Aurora chuckled lightly."Of course, I'll visit you.

 But stop trying to manipulate me!"

Monica walked away, waving her hand with a mischievous grin."I'll tell my brother you agreed!"

Aurora gasped, shouting after her."What?! I haven't said anything yet!"

But Monica had already disappeared into the garden's winding paths, leaving Aurora among the lavender blossoms, alone with her thoughts.

Night had fallen over the manor, 

draping it in a solemn quiet, broken only by the gentle breeze dancing through the trees, carrying the scent of lavender and jasmine.

 The sky, speckled with twinkling stars, looked like an oil painting crafted by a masterful artist, while the moon's silver reflection on the manor's windows cast a mysterious glow, as if it were part of a story yet to be completed.

In her spacious room,

 Aurora Valeska threw herself onto the bed with a dramatic flop, stretching her arms to her sides and closing her eyes for a long moment.

"This day… was interesting."

She whispered the words as if afraid to disturb the stillness of the night.

She had finally realized where she stood in this story—the novel she once knew so well. But now, 

it was no longer just printed words on a page; it was a world pulsing with life.

The original protagonists? They had married. Had their children. Lived happily ever after, just as they were meant to. The ending she knew had already come to pass, and yet… here she was.

Turning to her side, she took a deep breath, then pulled a pillow over her face in frustration.

"Ughhh…!"

She mumbled shyly as she recalled something—or rather… someone.

Kyle Strathmore.

He had always been her favorite character, the man who occupied her thoughts whenever she read the novel. But now,

 things were different. He was no longer just a written character, no longer a distant fantasy… He was real.

And that truth alone was enough to throw her mind into chaos.

Slowly, she lifted the pillow from her face and whispered, as if confessing a deep secret:

"My God, he's so handsome…"

But it wasn't just his looks.

"It's not just that… He's incredibly intelligent, calm, noble—he's like the embodiment of every trait I've ever admired."

She sighed, then placed a hand on her forehead in frustration.

"But my cold demeanor toward men… it acts on its own."

She remembered how she had walked beside him through the grand corridors of the palace, how she hesitated to speak to him, how words failed her in moments when she should have smiled or started a lighthearted conversation.

"Ugh, my tongue always ties at the best moments!"

She chuckled softly, then glanced at the letter resting on her bedside table.

She knew she had to make a decision about what to do here. She was no longer just a spectator in this story.

"Alright… If the original novel has ended, then so be it. I'll create my own story."

She sat up slightly, held the letter between her fingers, then smirked at herself.

"My goal in this world? It's quite simple. I'll make the third party in this story… fall in love with me."

She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining Kyle Strathmore's face—those aristocratic British features, his enigmatic green eyes, his pale blond hair that looked as if it were spun from sunlight, and that noble tranquility that surrounded him like an aura of serenity.

"He's like an innocent angel…"

She murmured to herself, then let out a quiet laugh.

But she knew all too well that beneath that serene exterior lay a man carrying wounds that had yet to heal.

"I think I'll become obsessed with him until he loves me."

Then, with newfound boldness, her eyes glinting with an unfamiliar challenge, she added:

"And if he doesn't? I'll make him… in my own way."

A sly smile curved her lips as she gazed at the moon outside her window.

She had made her decision.

This story would not end the way the original author had written it.

This time, the ending would be hers.