flahrify

[flahrify]

[flahrify]

In the mist-veiled kingdom of Avalon, 17-year-old Princess Iris of House Elowen waits behind gilded bars—her life planned, her future promised, her freedom locked away until her 18th birthday. Destined to marry Prince Draco of Calypso, a proud and formidable match that could unite two great kingdoms, Iris hides a dangerous secret: she’s fallen for a boy she’s never met.

Ambrose, a clever and soft-spoken peasant boy from the forest villages, is her forbidden pen pal. Their letters—smuggled past castle guards and locked doors—are filled with dreams, secrets, and a yearning that threatens to burn through every royal decree.

As the day of her release approaches, Avalon prepares for a wedding. But Iris prepares for a rebellion of the heart. When Ambrose makes a daring move to reach her, and Draco arrives to claim his bride, secrets unravel in a tangle of velvet lies, magic, and passion.

Can a caged heart choose freedom? Or will destiny forge a crown of sorrow?

[flahrify]

My socials 💕

Wattpad id : flahrify

[flahrify]

[flahrify]

Because of the Marsh

The marsh didn’t cry when Mama Jo died. It sighed.

Eula Bonewood stood alone beneath the widow tree, a gnarled giant at the edge of the water. Her boots sank into the mud, and she let them. The Spanish moss hung like grief itself, long and gray and heavy.

Mama Jo had raised her after her mother disappeared — not died, not left, just disappeared, the way Bonewood women sometimes did. Eula used to ask why, and Mama Jo would say, “Because the marsh calls back what it loves.”

Eula never knew if that meant they left willingly or were taken.

Now, Mama Jo was gone. A stroke, the doctor said. But Eula knew better. You didn’t spend your life bartering with spirits, healing the sick, and carrying generations of curses without someone — or something — waiting to collect.

She lit a candle at the edge of the dock. No grave for Mama Jo. The family buried their dead in the water, wrapped in white linen and prayers. Let the marsh carry them home.

“Can you hear me?” she whispered, staring into the fog. “Can you stay gone this time?”

The water rippled.

Behind her, the wind rustled. A voice followed it, low and half-familiar: “Still out here talking to yourself?”

Eula didn’t turn. She didn’t have to. That voice had once lived in her skin.

“Sarai,” she said. The name cracked in her throat.

“I came for the service,” Sarai said softly. “Didn’t think you’d want me, but—”

“I always wanted you.”

Silence stretched between them. There was too much unsaid to fill it.

They’d loved each other once — with the fierceness of youth, the kind that burns too fast. But Eula had let her go. Because the marsh loves what it takes, and Eula had been afraid Sarai would be next.

“I still dream about you,” Sarai said. “And her. Mama Jo. Always near the water.”

Eula turned at last. Sarai’s eyes were wet, but she smiled like old summer days. “You’re still wearing the charm I gave you.”

Eula touched the pendant at her neck. “Protection,” she said. “It kept me from falling apart. Mostly.”

Sarai stepped closer. “Let yourself fall. That’s the only way grief makes room.”

Behind them, the water stirred again. A flicker of white moved between the reeds. Eula stiffened. Mama Jo? No — not quite. The marsh didn’t return the dead. It remembered them, reflected them. Sometimes, it mirrored them back when you needed them most.

“Come on,” Sarai said. “Let’s go inside. You don’t have to hold it all alone.”

Eula hesitated, eyes on the water. A breeze stirred the trees, and for a moment, she swore she heard Mama Jo laugh — not cruel, not soft, just full.

“I’m scared,” Eula admitted.

“Me too,” Sarai said. “But I’m still here.”

And for the first time since the candle was lit, Eula took a breath that didn’t taste like sorrow.

The marsh kept what it loved, yes. But sometimes, it gave back what you thought was lost.

[flahrify]

“Until you get comfortable with being alone, you’ll never know if you are choosing someone out of love or loneliness.”

— Mandy Hale

[flahrify]

☆ New story - coming soon* : Her Doctor's Secret

☆ She's his nurse. He's her boss-and a respected cardiologist. But when she uncovers a secret buried deep in his private files, everything changes. Now she's in too deep to walk away... and too close to survive untouched.

☆Flahrify on wattpad

[flahrify]

Vladimir Mayakovsky, from a letter featured in "Love in the Heart of Everything; The Correspondence between Vladimir Mayakovsky & Lili Brik, 1915-1930,"

[flahrify]

“You must love in such a way that the person you love feels free.”

— Thich Nhat Hanh

[flahrify]

“I will return. I will find you. Love you. Marry you. And live without shame.”

— Atonement

[flahrify]

[flahrify]

My feet hit the pavement with rhythm, but my thoughts didn’t follow.

Every breath in was cold. Every exhale felt like steam coming off an engine.

Why didn’t I tell Henry?

Why was I still protecting Travis, even now?

Maybe it wasn’t him I was protecting. Maybe it was the version of me that bloomed around him—the danger, the cleverness, the edge.

Maybe it was the way he smirked when he was lying. The dimples at the corners of his mouth that appeared like punctuation marks at the end of chaos. The way he always combed his hair after I caught him slipping, like grooming could erase guilt.

I hated him.

And I missed the fire.

The wind picked up. I looked up just as the sky cracked open.

Rain.

Big, sloppy drops at first, then a steady downpour. It soaked my hoodie in seconds. It slicked my legs and turned my hair to frizz and weight.

But I didn’t stop.

I ran harder.

The storm couldn’t touch what was already breaking inside of me.

[flahrify]

Of all your lies, “I love you” was my favorite.

[flahrify]

He planted his hand on the wall beside my head, not quite touching me—but close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. His other hand brushed down the front of his jacket like he was bored, like he wasn’t already unraveling me from the inside.

“I came to remind you,” he whispered, eyes locked on mine, “that I’m not the only one playing dirty.”

My breath caught. Our faces were barely an inch apart. His cologne was all spice and danger, and I could feel his breath fan across my cheek.

“Don’t,” I whispered, even though I didn’t mean it.

He tilted his head.

“Don’t what?”

I didn’t answer.

Didn’t have to.

Because my mouth was already crashing into his, wild and desperate, our kiss all teeth and need and reckless hunger. It wasn’t soft—it was a firestorm, hands everywhere, my back hitting the counter, his grip firm on my waist like he needed me to feel it. Like he’d waited too long and couldn’t wait any longer.

We kissed like we were trying to erase all the wrong in it—like if we pressed hard enough, it would become something else. Something clean.

But it never did.

When I pulled away, my lips were swollen, and my heart was screaming. I turned before I could think twice and yanked the door open with shaking hands, stepping back out into the hallway with my chest still heaving.

Check out my story on wattpad

[flahrify]

Sometimes the smallest details — like knowing where someone keeps their plates and cups — can make us feel closest to them. 💛