Though it was a year of war, a sudden thud broke the stillness outside. An old man, weary in his military fatigues resembling an imperial officer from the 1900s, knocked on the manor’s door. The butler, startled, rushed to open it.

  “S-Sir!” he stammered, quickening his gesture.

  The man stepped in, cradling a delicate girl in his arms. She was asleep. His wife, hearing the commotion, rushed to meet him, her eyes widening with worry. Softly, she cried, careful not to disturb the child’s rest.

  The husband moved swiftly;, his gait steady despite the heaviness in his heart. Maids hurried to assist, tending to the girl with care.

  “O my sweet girl! My sweet little nightingale,” the mother whispered, kneeling beside her, gently brushing stray hair from her face.

  The old man stood by silently, his broad shoulders stooped with invisible weight. As his wife looked up at him, her face puffy with restrained tears, he placed a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. Together, they left the room, allowing the girl to rest.

  In the dimly lit hallway, a boy stirred awake. He was older than the girl but still a child. His mother found him wandering and gently scolded him for waking. Ushering him back to bed, she soothed him with tender words. Meanwhile, the father sat alone in the living room, slumped in a comfortable chair by the roaring fireplace. The flames flickered with both warmth and grief, reflecting his unspoken sorrow.

  The household woke to a sweet, sunny Monday morning. In the dining room, the family gathered for breakfast. The little girl sat quietly as the servants moved gracefully, setting food before them.

  “Introduce yourself, Harold,” the mother said, her voice firm yet gentle.

  Reluctantly, the boy stood. “Hello, my name is Harold Ellesmere… yada-yada. How do you do?” He bowed with the barest enthusiasm.

  “Harold Ellesmere!” his mother scolded. “I raised you better than this! Try again, properly this time.”

  Before he could respond, the girl rose and gave a mocking bow, “I’m Lori Beckett. Nice to meet you… Hairy.”

  Harold froze, his cheeks flushing at the unexpected mockery. His scowl deepened, but his mother cut him off before he could retort, instructing him to sit. His father, amused by the exchange, continued eating, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

  “What gives? Who is she, anyway?” Harold crossed his arms, pouting.

  “She’s... well, consider her your sister or cousin,” his mother said, her smile warm but measured.

  “What?! I don’t know her. She never visited!”

  “She has,” his mother replied gently. “Once, when you were still toddling about. She was just a baby then.”

  Harold frowned. “But who’s her uncle? How come—”

  “You won’t find the answer from her,” his father interrupted. “Just know this, son: I had a comrade, practically a brother. He’s no longer here, but I made him a promise. Taking care of Lori is part of that.”

  “But I don’t want a sister!” Harold protested.

  His father’s steady gaze silenced him. Grumbling, Harold returned to his meal, while Lori, her earlier bravado fading, picked at her food. The mother leaned toward her, offering a comforting touch.

  “What’s wrong, my dear? Tell me.”

  “Is my mama still sleeping?” Lori asked softly, her voice trembling with hope and uncertainty.

  A heavy silence followed. Harold glanced down, sensing the weight of the moment. His mother forced a gentle smile, though her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

  “Why don’t you two play together after breakfast?” she suggested, her voice bright but fragile. “Don’t wander too far.”

  ***

  Four years passed, and the children grew into adolescence. Harold, now sixteen, was being tutored in geography, mathematics, and literature by a private teacher. Lori, carefree and mischievous, spent her days exploring the estate and playing pranks, much to the staff’s exasperation.

  One late morning, Harold strolled through the garden, book in hand, attempting to catch the attention of the maids. His efforts were met with giggles, and he smirked, glancing up occasionally to bask in their admiration. Lori, watching from a distance, rolled her eyes before sneaking up behind him and smearing mud across his vest.

  “Hey! You—” Harold turned, glaring at the mess on his fine clothes.

  “Bleh!” Lori stuck out her tongue, laughing.

  Harold’s scowl deepened as he chased after her through the sprawling manor. When he finally cornered her, Lori scrambled up a tree, grinning smugly from the branches.

  “Come down, you little—ugh!”

  “Climb up, Hairy, if you dare!”

  Grumbling, Harold attempted to climb but slipped, landing unceremoniously on the ground. Lori burst into laughter, her mirth echoing through the garden.

  “Loser!” she called down, her voice teasing.

  Harold muttered under his breath, stalking off toward the well to clean his shirt. Lori eventually approached, holding out a couple of apples as a peace offering.

  “What now? Come to apologize, Monkey?” Harold quipped, eyeing the apples skeptically.

  “Take them,” Lori mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

  “No thanks. This isn’t a treaty,” he retorted, crossing his arms.

  Frustrated, Lori hurled an apple at him before stomping away, “Fine! Jerk!”

  From that day, their playful skirmishes turned into a full-fledged rivalry. Their parents, weary of their antics, eventually decided to send Lori to an all-girls school, hoping it would instill some manners and discipline.

  Ever since she began attending the all-girls’ school, Harold would occasionally catch sight of her wandering through the manor grounds in the prim, structured uniform mandated by the institution. Despite the forced attire, her free spirit shone through, often accompanied by the faint strains of music. Harold would pause, captivated by the sound, as she attempted to weave a symphony from various instruments.

  Now, hidden behind the wall of the music room, he leaned against the cool stone, his body at ease but his heart unsettled. Through the crack in the door, he watched her—her fingers dancing over keys, her brow furrowed in concentration. A soft smile curved his lips as he murmured under his breath, “One should listen to you... You’re like one of those songbirds—chirping endlessly, flitting from one mischief to the next. And yet, somehow, you’re impossible not to admire. My God you do...”

  ***

  In five months, the holiday season brought a flurry of activity to the Ellesmere manor. Relatives arrived, filling the house with lively chatter and the aroma of decadent feasts. It was a tradition during this time for young men to ask ladies to dance, and if brave enough, to propose marriage.

  Harold, now seventeen, stood in front of a mirror in his room, adjusting his finely tailored suit. He slicked back his hair and checked his reflection with a mix of pride and nervousness. As he descended the grand staircase, the living room buzzed with guests dressed in their finest attire.

  Lori, recently returned from school, was seated near the fireplace. Her mother fussed over her hair, smoothing stray strands and fixing the folds of her dress. Despite the pampering, Lori’s usual smugness was intact.

  One of the relatives leaned in, a playful glint in her eye. “Has anyone asked to dance with you yet, Lori?”

  Lori chuckled. “No man would dare. I’d scare him off before he got the chance.”

  Harold, overhearing, smirked from across the room. An idea began to form in his mind. Stepping aside, he grabbed a small piece of charcoal and discreetly drew a comical mustache on his upper lip. Returning to the living room, he approached Lori with exaggerated confidence.

  The relatives chuckled, encouraging his antics. “Who is this fine gentleman?” one teased.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Harold bowed dramatically. “Good evening, my lady. May I have this dance?”

  Lori narrowed her eyes, unimpressed. “Why? So you can twirl me around and propose? Please.”

  Undeterred, Harold grinned. “Why not? I’m certain no one else is brave enough to ask.”

  Blood rushed to Lori’s cheeks, her temper flaring. She stood abruptly, fists clenched. “Oh, you—”

  Before she could finish, she swung a punch, landing it squarely on Harold’s cheek. He stumbled back, startled but laughing. The room erupted in a mix of gasps and stifled laughter.

  Their mother rushed forward, pulling them apart. “Enough! Both of you!” she scolded, her voice sharp but weary. “You’re behaving like children.”

  Lori huffed, crossing her arms as Harold straightened his posture, still grinning. The guests tried to soothe the tension, and soon the chatter returned, leaving the siblings to nurse their bruised egos.

  ***

  Years passed. By the time Harold turned twenty-two, he had established a trading company, further enriching the Ellesmere family. His parents, proud and content, often spoke of his accomplishments with glowing admiration.

  Lori, now eighteen, was in her final year of school. Her ambitions to become a conductor and composer burned brighter than ever. She spent countless hours immersed in books on music theory and the works of celebrated composers, her dreams driving her forward.

  One quiet noon, Lori was called to the sitting room. The teacher mentioned she had a visitor. With a sigh, she left her studies and headed downstairs, her curiosity tempered by a faint irritation.

  Harold waited, his posture relaxed but composed. He wore a tailored three-piece suit, his mustache neatly groomed, and his shoes polished to a gleam. On the table before him sat a small gift box.

  When Lori entered, Harold rose to greet her. For a moment, her steps faltered—his polished demeanor was startling compared to the mischievous boy she remembered. But she quickly masked her surprise with a smirk.

  “What’s the occasion? Did you finally decide to surrender?” she quipped, crossing her arms.

  Harold chuckled. “Not quite. Sit down, and I’ll enlighten you.”

  Lori plopped onto the chair opposite him, her posture deliberately casual. Her sharp eyes darted to the box. “What’s this? A bribe?”

  “A gift,” Harold corrected, sliding it toward her. “Chocolates and candies. Mom thought you’d like them.”

  “Hmm.” She opened the lid, inspecting the treats with mock suspicion before popping a chocolate into her mouth. “You didn’t poison these, did you?”

  “Only the ugly ones,” Harold replied with a grin, leaning back in his chair.

  Lori rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. She reached for another chocolate, but Harold’s gaze caught on something.

  “What’s that on your leg?” he asked, gesturing.

  “What?” Lori stiffened, following his line of sight.

  “That tear. Is it a scar?” Harold leaned forward, his brow furrowing in mock curiosity. “Climbing trees again, Monkey?”

  Lori shot up from her chair, pulling down at her skirt to cover the rip. “Mind your business, Ellesmere!”

  Harold smirked, thoroughly amused. “It’s always trees with you. One day, you’ll fall and break more than your pride.”

  “Keep talking, and I’ll throw you out of that window,” Lori snapped, though the corners of her lips twitched.

  Harold rose, casually tucking his hands into his pockets. “You’re as dramatic as ever. But let’s set aside the theatrics—I came for a reason.”

  “Oh?” Lori arched an eyebrow, arms crossed. “What do you want this time?”

  “To take you out,” Harold said plainly.

  Lori blinked, caught off guard by his directness. “What?”

  “There’s a composer in town. I booked us a box. Thought you might enjoy it.”

  Lori tilted her head, studying him as if trying to discern an ulterior motive. “And what’s in it for you?”

  Harold sighed, exasperated. “Not everything I do revolves around me, you know. Consider it a peace offering.”

  Lori narrowed her eyes. “Peace offering, huh? “And what’s in it for you?”

  “No ulterior motive. Merely an evening’s outing.” Harold replied smoothly, adjusting his cufflinks. “Unless you’re afraid I’ll embarrass you.”

  Lori huffed, her face flushing. “Afraid? Hardly. Fine, I’ll go—but only because I deserve a break from this dreary place.”

  “Good.” Harold’s lips curved into a triumphant smile. “I’ll pick you up after school. Try not to climb any trees before then.”

  Lori waved him off, hiding her own amused smile as she turned back to her room.

  As twilight was bathing the city in warm hues of amber and gold, Harold arrived at the school in a sleek carriage. His attire was impeccable—an elegantly tailored suit paired with a subtle fragrance that hinted at cedar and citrus. Leaning casually against the carriage, he scanned the crowd of students pouring out of the school gates.

  He didn’t have to wait long. Lori appeared from the main doors, her strides confident but unhurried. She had traded her usual carefree attitude for a touch of elegance, her dress modest yet flattering. Her auburn curls caught the light, and for a moment, Harold found himself momentarily breathless.

  “Didn’t know you could clean up so well,” he called, a teasing smile curving his lips.

  Lori’s eyes narrowed as she approached. “And I didn’t know you could stand still without preening like a peacock.”

  Harold chuckled, opening the carriage door with a mock flourish. “After you, my lady.”

  “Don’t press your luck.” she replied, stepping into the carriage.

  Once seated, Harold rapped on the roof to signal the driver. The carriage began to roll smoothly through the cobbled streets, and the sound of hooves against stone clattered the silence between them.

  Lori glanced at him sideways, her brow arching. “So, why the sudden urge to play chauffeur? Trying to impress someone?”

  “Perhaps,” Harold replied, leaning back with a smug grin.

  Her lips twisted in a smirk. “I hope it’s not me. Your charm doesn’t work that easily, Mr. Ellesmere.”

  “Who said it was for you?” he shot back. “I could have a dozen admirers waiting for me tonight.”

  “Sure, if they all happen to be blind,” Lori quipped, earning a laugh from him.

  The grand theatre was alive with energy. Its ornate chandeliers cast a golden light over the polished marble floors, and the air buzzed with the chatter of well-dressed patrons. Harold guided Lori through the crowd to their private box, his hand resting lightly at her back.

  As they took their seats, Lori leaned over the balcony, her eyes sparkling as she gazed at the stage. The orchestra was tuning their instruments, the discordant notes blending into an oddly harmonious hum.

  Harold watched her, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You look like a child on Christmas morning.”

  “And you look like a cat that’s eaten the cream,” Lori retorted, though her tone was warm.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  The lights dimmed, the murmurs of the audience faded into silence. The conductor stepped onto the stage and with a graceful sweep of his arm, the music began.

  For a time, neither Harold nor Lori spoke. The music was filling the space between them, weaving a tapestry of emotion that seemed to suspend time.

  Midway through the performance, Harold leaned closer, his voice low so as not to disturb her reverie. “Do you still dream about conducting something like this?”

  Lori turned to him, her expression briefly vulnerable. “Every day,” she admitted.

  “You should,” he said simply. “You’d be brilliant.”

  Lori blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. She turned back to the stage, her cheeks warming. “Don’t get used to me agreeing with you.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Harold replied, settling back with a satisfied grin.

  The performance ended with thunderous applause, but Harold’s focus lingered on Lori. As they exited the theater, he walked just beside her, hands in his pockets, his mind stirring. Lori, too, seemed quieter than usual, brushing a stray curl from her face as they stepped into the cool night.

  The carriage waited near the curb, its lantern casting a soft glow. Harold cleared his throat, but before he could speak, Lori turned to him, her eyes sharp. “What’s wrong? You’ve been weird all night.”

  “I’m fine,” Harold replied, forcing a casual smile.

  “You sure? Seems like there’s something in there.” She tapped his temple teasingly. Then, with a smirk, Lori snatched his pocket watch.

  “Lori!” he shouted, chasing her as she darted into a nearby park.

  With a dramatic sigh, Lori relented, tossing the watch into Harold’s hand. “Here! Now let me go already.”

  “Oh no,” Harold teased, his smirk deepening. “I don’t trust a single word you utter after this.”

  “I gave it back!” Lori protested, struggling against his hold.

  Harold’s laughter faded as his gaze softened. For a moment, he hesitated, his face unconsciously leaning closer.

  Lori’s eyes widened as realization dawned. “Don’t even think about it,” she muttered before abruptly headbutting him square on the forehead.

  “Gah!” Harold yelped, rolling off her and clutching his face. “What was that for?!”

  “You were—just—ugh, go away!” Lori stammered, scrambling to her feet and fleeing toward the carriage.

  Harold groaned, still holding his forehead. “Tomboy… brat… always like this…” he muttered, stumbling after her.

  The carriage ride home was unusually quiet. Lori stared out the window, her expression unreadable, while Harold stole glances at her.

  “I’m sorry,” Lori said suddenly, her voice softer.

  “For what?” Harold replied, tilting his head.

  “For—ugh, never mind,” she huffed, crossing her arms.

  Harold smiled faintly, leaning back. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

  As the carriage stopped outside the manor, Harold hesitated. “Lori,” he began, his voice quieter than usual.

  She looked at him, brows raised. “What now?”

  “I never thought you’d mean so much to me,” he admitted, the words tumbling out awkwardly.

  Lori blinked, startled, before a small laugh escaped her. “You’re hopeless, Harold.”

  “Maybe,” he said, smiling. “But can I mean as much to you?”

  Lori’s cheeks reddened, but her voice softened. “You already do, idiot.”

  A warmth spread through Harold as he stepped out and extended a hand to her. She took it, her fingers lingering in his longer than before.

  As they walked toward the door, Harold glanced at her. “Someday, I’ll stop calling you Monkey.”

  “And someday,” Lori replied, her lips curving into a grin, “I might actually miss it.”

  They stepped into the warm glow of the manor together, their unspoken bond quietly deepening.