It was beautiful or this was what a seventeen years old young girl thought. She loved taking long walks whenever she was permitted to, especially in spring, when the flowers blossomed, trees get new leaves and the grass died by the tyranny of severe winter comes to life again.
There was a unique beauty of this particular season. And perhaps, for this reason alone, it was known as the season of hope and revival.
As the young girl left her bedroom to go for the walk that she had planned out, she confronted someone who she was not hoping to see today.
She lowered her gaze as his eyes fell on her. She stood frozen at the door like a statue.
"Where are you going, my butterfly?" The man questioned as he moved in her direction. He was hoping to find her but he didn't think he would find her soon and in such a jolly mood.
"Just to the garden," the girl replied in a soft yet polite tone. Her eyes didn't leave her feet.
