Princess Amina stood quietly at the palace gate. The sun had just risen, painting the sky with gentle pink and orange. She pulled her cloak around her and stepped outside, her heart beating with excitement. Today, she wanted to see the city—not from a window, but with her own eyes. The guards were still half-asleep. No one stopped her.

The streets buzzed with life—sellers calling out, children running, pots clinking, and birds flying low. Amina walked slowly, breathing it all in. She smiled at a baker who handed a roll to a sleepy girl. Everything felt new, but not scary. She kept walking until she heard a quiet cry near a rug stall. It was a little boy, alone and tearful.

Amina knelt beside him. “Are you lost?” she asked softly. The boy nodded, wiping his nose with his sleeve. She gently took his hand, and they began to walk. They passed a fruit cart, a singing tailor, and two dancing cats. Finally, a woman ran toward them, tears in her eyes—the boy’s mother. She hugged him tightly and thanked Amina again and again.

As the sky turned gold, Amina made her way home. The palace was quiet again, the halls cool and wide. She sat by her window and looked out at the city, now glowing in evening light. “One day,” she whispered, “I’ll be a queen who listens. A queen who walks with her people, not just above them.” And from that day on, her heart stayed open.