The room was filled with a tense, almost stifling atmosphere, thick with the unsaid burdens of duty and expectation. Light filtered through tall, narrow glass windows dressed with lace curtains, casting faint highlights of gold that touched the plush, upholstered chairs and the elegant oak furniture.
There she sat , fingers lightly tracing the embroidery on that sat on her lap as her mother's squicky voice filled the room. Every word she spilled with eager anticipation as her mother spoke of Louis (her soon to be husband)—She went on and on about his well refined manners, his standing in society, and his considerable connections, painting a picture of a perfect match. Yet, he mother's words were all blurred nothing but nosie, all she felt was the stifling pressure growing like a storm at sea, it felt as though an invisible hand had tightened around my heart, squeezing her dreams, her hopes, into silent compliance.
The scent of roses, faint but unmistakable, lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of wood polish and old books, a reminder of the history and duty embedded in this house, in her very blood. Each breath filled her with a heady mix of longing and resignation, the suffocating weight of a life that was never her own.
She gazed up through her dark raven lashes, her green eyes studying her mother's face. All she wanted was for her to stop. Her expression darkned as her mother continued talking about Louis. Why don't you just marry him than, she thought her anger bubbling, boiling, waiting for release.
The minute her mother locked eyes with her, Lily smiled sweetly on the surface, she wore an expression of dutiful composure. To her family, she was the obedient daughter, the one who understood the sacrifices needed to secure their status.
But deep within, her heart ached for a love she dared not act upon. Her gaze drifted towards the window, lost in a world far removed from her mother's words sweetly posined words that felt like knifes driving into her skin—a world where the soft, knowing smile of Annette lingered like a secret promise, a temptation, a dark unspoken desire.The woman Louis admired, the woman that he was so deeply entangled with and many others sort to posses, the one who had effortlessly stolen her heart that night, the one that also became her tormentor.
The gentle creak of the wooden floor seemed to echo her growing impatience, a low, steady beat beneath her mother's steady on going rattling. The room's grand chandelier hung above, its crystals catching the fading sunlight and casting fragmented rainbows across the walls, mocking her with their freedom to drift and dance. Lily's green eyes darked , sharp and observant, followed the colored lights briefly before her gaze drifted to her mother's mouth, watching the words form but hearing only a blur of sound.
"Mother if I maybe excused" Lily said in a quiet voice, her mother barely hearing her. " Very well dear" her mother replied to her, her voice lashed with harshness.
Lily escaped to her room, closing the door softly behind her. In the solitude of her sanctuary, her guarded exterior crumbled. She let out a breath, feeling the weight of her conflicting desires press down on her. From a small box on her vanity, she pulled out a delicate silver hairpin. She held something precious, was the only thing that was intimately tied to Annette, even though she , herself knew it wasn't something Annette herself would miss or even care about but it was apart of her. It was a foolish sentiment, she told herself, and yet...in her heart, it felt real. She wished it were, but deep down she knew that Annette would not feel the same. Would not even look in her direction.
That night as she prepared for bed, Lily reminded herself of her place in this world. She had known since girlhood that her life was not her own. Women of her station had little choice—they were daughters, wives, mothers. To desire more was a path to ruin. And so, she steeled herself, accepting the path laid before her. Tomorrow, she would be the obedient daughter, the soon-to-be bride of a man she could respect but would never be loved by. Yet, even as she resigned herself to her fate, a quiet rebellion flickered in her heart, a forbidden longing that only she would ever know.
In the glow of the candlelight, Lily's heart whispered of dreams unspoken, she dreamt of the woman that was her everything, dreamt of a future that would never be hers.
In the end she will be a wife nothing more nothing less, just a vessel to bore children, to be obedient, but the spark was already spreading into a fire.