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Summary
She had not planned for this.
Never this. Her reputation she had built under her family name, seeking out validation she knew were artificial, following orders that ended with nothing to give—there was a point where it grew too much. Become someone they could be proud of. But, had she achieved that? Had she, in her years on the very marble flooring she called home, truly achieved what her father had with ease, what her brother and sister had grasped without stumbling.
The Belrose name sullied by the youngest.
The little wilting flower doomed to wither away.
A wilting flower that was uprooted from her pot, cradled in the hands of someone new.
Someone that aimed to bestow her a life she had wished for—a life, well, on his own terms.
⊱✿⊰
Or, a story of a woman finding home with someone who would do anything to keep her safe.