After the FaceTime call ended and the last crumbs of Amelia's glitter-pink cake were devoured, the night didn't wind down-it exploded.

Clarice and Jenny had found an old speaker and decided it was the perfect time to play what they called "the unofficial birthday after-party playlist," which somehow included everything from ABBA and Taylor Swift to the Beetlejuice soundtrack and random hyperpop remixes.

Amelia was a menace.

There was no other word for it.

She was dancing barefoot in her sparkly pink dress, her Edward-from-Twilight tiara now sitting crooked on her head, shouting lyrics like she was performing in front of a sold-out stadium.

"I'VE NEVER FELT SO ALIVE!" she screamed at one point, jumping from the armrest of the couch to the floor and spinning in a dramatic twirl.

Jenny was right behind her, giggling uncontrollably, while Clarice pretended she wasn't having fun-except her mascara had half melted off from how much she'd laughed.

Frederick, poor soul, had danced so much he was wheezing into a throw pillow.

"I think my royal lungs just collapsed," he groaned, flopping onto the floor, arms outstretched like he was auditioning for a tragic soap opera.

"Freddy, get up!" Amelia shouted. "We're about to play Truth or Dare or Eat a Mystery Gummy! That's a real game!"

"That's not a game, that's a lawsuit."

"Nope! It's tradition now!"

It was beautiful chaos. The kind of night that made your cheeks ache from smiling too much.

But me? I had slowly slipped onto the couch with Maxwell, our legs stretched out, his arm lazily resting along the back of the cushions behind me. His fingers grazed my shoulder now and then, completely on purpose.

"You know," I murmured as I sipped from a sparkly paper cup filled with soda, "this is probably the weirdest royal birthday party ever thrown."

"Correction," he whispered near my ear. "The best royal birthday party ever thrown."

I smiled. "She's happy."

He glanced at Amelia, who was now trying to balance a stuffed unicorn on Frederick's head. "Yeah. She really is."

For a moment, we were quiet. Not because we had nothing to say, but because sometimes silence with someone feels better than words.

Then he tilted his head toward me, his voice a little softer. "You're good with people."

I looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"You just... get them. You made her feel seen tonight. That's not something Amelia gets a lot, even when everyone's looking."

That warmth in my chest-that melting, dangerous, terrifying warmth-spread again. I tried to play it cool. "Don't go getting sappy on me, prince."

"I'd never," he teased. "But I am thinking about taking you somewhere."

"Oh no. Is this another fair?" I deadpanned. "Because last time you won me exactly zero prizes, and I still haven't forgiven you."

"Ok. Teddy bear was definitely a prize" He smirked. "No fair. No public crowds. No suspicious corndogs. It's actually... kind of important. Special."

I turned more toward him, curious. "Where?"

His eyes twinkled. "Can't tell you yet."

"Oh wow. Vague. Mysterious. You're so annoying," I whispered with a grin.

"And yet you're leaning into me."

I rolled my eyes. "Because I'm cold."

"Sure."

We laughed, and the warmth between us grew thicker, denser-comfort woven with sparks. He tucked a blanket over us, wrapping it around my shoulders, his hand finding mine underneath.

We sat there, tangled up, watching as Amelia declared herself queen of the gummy bear kingdom.

And I couldn't help but think-

Yeah.

This is what it feels like to be exactly where you're meant to be.

I haven't felt like that for awhile..

By the time midnight faded into two a.m., the living room looked like it had been raided by a musical-obsessed glitter monster. Confetti littered the floor. Paper crowns were draped on lamps. A unicorn balloon floated by the ceiling like it had given up on life. And somewhere in the distance, "Dancing Queen" was still echoing from someone's phone, I was sick of this song. I probably heard it more than 20 times now.

We were all crashing. Hard.

Clarice was already half-asleep, curled up on the floor in a blanket with snack crumbs stuck to her sleeve. Jenny was barely functioning, holding a half-full glitter cup in one hand and a streamer in the other like she'd forgotten what to do with either.

"Okay," Maxwell murmured next to me, his hand brushing mine. "Time to shut down the chaos."

Amelia had finally stopped twirling long enough to sit on a beanbag. Her crown was gone, her glitter makeup smudged under her eyes, and she looked completely and utterly... happy. Exhausted, but happy.

"I got her," Maxwell said, moving toward her gently.

She blinked up at him, half-asleep, completely soft. "What?"

"Come on, Your Glitterness," he teased gently. "Bed."

"Nooo," she mumbled, flopping like a rag doll as he carefully scooped her up.

She yawned against his chest. "You're such a bossy big brother."

"And you're such a stubborn little disaster," he muttered, but there was something warm and protective in his voice.

I followed them upstairs, walking quietly beside him as he carried her through the halls of the royal wing. It was quiet. Peaceful. The golden light cast shadows on the walls, and the night felt sacred in a strange, sleepy kind of way.

Maxwell pushed open her bedroom door with his shoulder and gently lowered her onto her bed. I stepped in behind him and pulled the blanket up, tucking it around her. She blinked slowly, barely awake, her eyes glassy but soft.

"Hey," she whispered, her voice slurred and small. "Amy..."

"Yeah?" I whispered, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead.

She smiled, and tears pooled in her eyes. "You did all this for me."

"Of course I did."

"You made it about me. Not the crown. Not the title. Just... me. Edward. Glitter. Gummy bears. No stupid speeches."

I laughed softly. "I promised you a real birthday."

"I've never had one," she mumbled. "Not like this."

Her hand reached out, found mine. "You're my sister. I don't care if it's official or not. You are. And I love you so much for making my brother act like a total lovesick idiot."

"Hey," Maxwell murmured beside me, mock offended.

Amelia giggled sleepily. "It's a compliment. You're weird now. But, like, in love weird. I love that for you."

I felt the sting in my chest before I could stop it.

She looked between the two of us with a lazy, heartfelt smile. "No one else could be family but you, Amy. I knew it the moment I saw you."

And then, just like that, she was out-snuggled in a pink, flower-patterned blanket with a unicorn plush tucked under her arm and remnants of glitter still on her cheeks.

I stood there for a second, unable to breathe for a moment.

Maxwell brushed his knuckle lightly against my hand. "She meant it."

"I know," I whispered. "I just... wasn't expecting it."

He gave me a tired smile. "She's dramatic. But not when it comes to love."

We quietly stepped out and gently closed the door behind us.

Downstairs, Jenny had rallied, stacking empty snack bowls with the speed of someone trying not to fall asleep standing up. Frederick had a garbage bag tied to one arm like a cape, clearly delirious from fatigue.

"I was not built to party with theater kids," he muttered. "This is war."

Clarice handed him another bag. "Welcome to chaos. Now clean."

Maxwell and I joined the tornado of late-night cleanup, moving half like zombies and half like misfit elves on a sugar crash. We picked up glitter, folded streamers, and even tried (unsuccessfully) to scrape melted gummy bears off the hardwood floor.

Every now and then, Maxwell bumped my shoulder or passed me a trash bag with a little grin. And I'd smile back, because I couldn't not.

We were exhausted. Messy. Glitter-stained.

The last of the dishes were stacked away, the glitter swept up from the floor, and the remaining snack wrappers tossed in the bin. The chaos of the party was settling into quiet exhaustion. Jenny, Clarice, and Frederic were already yawning and moving slowly toward their rooms, their steps heavy with the weight of a day full of laughter and dancing.

Maxwell and I stood together for a moment in the fading glow of the main hall's chandelier, the faint hum of the mansion settling into night wrapping around us. He looked at me-really looked at me-and in his eyes, I saw something softer than usual. Concern, maybe? Or just the honest recognition of how tired I was.

"I'll walk you back?" he offered gently, voice low.

I hesitated. My room was on the far side of the mansion, down long hallways and past quiet corners where shadows played tricks on my mind. The thought of the long trek back, with my exhaustion dragging like a stone in my chest, made me shiver.

"No," I said softly, shaking my head with a tired smile. "It's too far, and I'm too wiped out."

Maxwell's eyes sparkled with a new idea. "What if," he said slowly, "you just stayed here? You could sleep in the prince's room. It's so much closer, and... well, you look completely done for."

I couldn't help but laugh-a light, surprised laugh. The idea felt ridiculous and thrilling all at once. Me, sleeping in Maxwell's room? The thought made my heart flutter, a mixture of nerves and something warmer.

"Is this a trap?" I teased, raising an eyebrow.

He shook his head, grinning. "No trap. Just fewer steps, and maybe better company."

I studied him for a moment, trying to read what was behind his usual teasing smile.

"I mean if you want to, if not I will a company you to the other side. No pressure really. Its totally fine!" he said quickly making me smile

There was a sincerity there-something quiet but unshakable. And, after everything we'd been through, I found myself trusting him without question.

"Okay," I said finally, feeling a spark of excitement beneath the tiredness. "I'll stay."

He beamed, and suddenly the mansion didn't feel so big or lonely. We walked side by side through the silent halls, our footsteps echoing softly in the cool air. The walls, lined with portraits of stern ancestors and velvet drapes, seemed less intimidating with him near.

Inside his room, everything felt different-less formal, more intimate. Soft light spilled from a bedside lamp, casting warm pools of amber across the bed and the thick rugs. I slipped out of my sweatshirt and changed into one of Maxwell's oversized shirts, the fabric soft and familiar against my skin, then my pants, and the big shirt actually looked like a dress on me.

Maxwell's eyes immediately flickered to me, amusement and affection dancing together. "You look adorable," he said, voice low and teasing. "Like you're stealing from the prince's closet."

I rolled my eyes but smiled. "You're lucky I'm exhausted or I'd make you pay for all the teasing."

He stepped closer, his hand sliding around my waist. "Maybe you're already making me pay," he murmured, lips brushing my temple as he leaned in.

We kissed-slow, tender, like the world had shrunk down to just the two of us. His hands moved with ease over my neck, my face, my arms, tracing gentle lines that made the tension in my shoulders dissolve. The usual fears I carried-of being touched, of closeness-somehow faded away, replaced by warmth and safety. With Maxwell, I could breathe.

We pulled apart for a moment, breathing in sync, the heat between us undeniable. My heart hammered, a wild mix of nervousness and longing.

"You okay?" he asked suddenly cer worried

"Yes" I said calmly that seemed to calm him down

Then he chuckled softly. "Maybe we should save the rest of that for tomorrow."

I nodded, laughter bubbling out of me. "Definitely. I'm way too tired
."

He helped me climb into bed, tugging the blankets gently around me as if wrapping me in a cocoon against the world. His fingers found my hair, brushing it back slowly-over and over-with the kind of care that felt like a silent promise.

My eyelids grew heavy under his touch, and the warmth of his body beside mine made sleep feel like the most natural thing in the world.

His hand cupped my cheek softly. "Goodnight, my love," he whispered.

I smiled, my heart swelling in ways I hadn't expected. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the comfort of his presence, but right then, I realized something.

Is this what love feels like? I might be falling for him-really falling. Not just the butterflies or the thrill of a new crush, but a deep, quiet feeling that this could be love. A love that was patient, kind, and steady.

And for the first time in a long time, that thought didn't scare me. It felt like home.

With Maxwell's hand still tracing gentle patterns on my face, I closed my eyes and let sleep take me-safe, warm, and full of love.