Fragments
The echo of camera flashes followed Alexandra as she stepped into the event hall, the weight of the evening pressing down on her shoulders. The dazzling dresses, the polished smiles, and the hum of conversation surrounded her like an elaborate, suffocating costume. She played her part as she always did—graceful, poised, untouchable—but the role never felt like her own.
The room was a parade of perfectly curated personas: philanthropists, celebrities, politicians, each one navigating the space with ease. Alexandra moved through it like a ghost, nodding when necessary, smiling when expected, her mind wandering beyond the confines of this gilded cage.
And then, she saw her.
Taylor Swift stood near the edge of the crowd, effortlessly commanding attention in a way that seemed almost second nature. At first, Alexandra noticed the obvious things—the golden sheen of her dress, the way her smile seemed to brighten the room. But as Alexandra's gaze lingered, she saw something deeper.
There was a subtle tension in the way Taylor carried herself, a flicker of something unguarded behind her practiced smile. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but to Alexandra, it felt achingly familiar. The weariness of living under a spotlight, the pressure of playing a part for the world—it was a feeling Alexandra knew all too well.
Their eyes didn't meet immediately. Instead, Alexandra's gaze followed Taylor's movements, as though drawn to her without conscious thought. Taylor glided through the crowd with the kind of practiced charm that hinted at years of perfecting the art of being seen. Yet, there was something vulnerable in her subtle glances at the floor, in the way her fingers occasionally fidgeted with the edge of her clutch.
Taylor, too, had noticed Alexandra. Though she didn't allow her gaze to linger for too long, she was aware of the princess's presence in the way one might be aware of the sun breaking through the clouds. Alexandra had an undeniable gravity about her—an intensity that made it impossible not to look.
Taylor stole glances whenever she thought no one would notice. Alexandra was more striking in person than any photo had done justice, with sharp features softened by the hint of something unspoken in her expression. She looked like a woman carrying the weight of an invisible crown, her composure flawless but her eyes betraying a quiet restlessness.
For Alexandra, watching Taylor was like looking into a mirror she didn't expect to find. There was a kind of kinship in the way Taylor laughed at the right moments, leaned in at just the right angle, and played her part in the dance of charm and artifice. It was a performance Alexandra knew intimately, and for the first time in years, she didn't feel entirely alone in it.
When their eyes finally met, it was brief—a fleeting moment that could have been mistaken for nothing at all. But in that moment, Alexandra felt the air between them shift, charged with an energy she hadn't anticipated.
Taylor's gaze held hers just long enough for a question to form in Alexandra's mind: Did Taylor see through the mask? Did she see the woman underneath the title, the person who longed for something real?
Alexandra looked away first, her pulse quickening as though she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't. She reached for a glass of champagne from a passing tray, her fingers brushing the cool surface of the flute as she tried to steady herself.
Across the room, Taylor smiled at something someone had said, but her mind wasn't on the conversation. Her thoughts lingered on Alexandra—on the sharpness of her gaze, the way she carried herself with a kind of defiance that didn't match the perfection expected of her. There was a story in that defiance, Taylor thought, one she found herself wanting to know.
The rest of the evening passed in a series of stolen glances. Neither woman made a move to approach the other, yet both remained acutely aware of the other's presence. Alexandra's attention would drift to Taylor every so often, catching the way she threw her head back in laughter or the way her fingers brushed absently against the stem of her glass.
Taylor, in turn, kept Alexandra in the corner of her vision, studying the way her lips curved into polite smiles that didn't quite reach her eyes, the subtle tension in her posture as though she was ready to bolt at any moment.
They never exchanged a word, never ventured closer than a room's distance apart. Yet, when the night drew to a close and Alexandra stepped into the cool London air, she couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted.
Taylor lingered in her thoughts like the notes of a song she couldn't stop humming, a melody she wasn't quite ready to let go of.
And in a quiet moment of honesty, Alexandra allowed herself to wonder: if they ever met again, would the music between them find its rhythm?