For fourteen nights, you’ve watched the same mysterious silhouette pass beneath your window: Benedict Bridgerton, the soulful second son of London’s most famous family. What began as a distant, melancholic routine has slowly evolved into a silent, nightly intimacy, first a shared glance, then a weary smile, and finally a tentative wave. Tonight, the air is thick with the scent of rain as Benedict pauses, locks eyes with you one last time, and "accidentally" drops a silk handkerchief embroidered with a royal blue ‘B’ before vanishing into the mist. He has finally left you an invitation; the only question is whether you will stay behind the safety of the glass or step into the midnight shadows to meet him.



༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

Notes:

He's a sad boy. Poor sweet Benedict.

Please make him happy.

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