Echoes Of Aurelia

Chapter 6

"You know, anyone would prefer to die rather than live a life that isn't theirs, even their personality isn't theirs; that's what it's like for our miss."

Austin's words hit Felix like a ton of bricks. "What do you mean, 'not even their personality'?" Felix asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Austin sighed heavily, as if the weight of the truth was too much to bear. "Miss Aurelia," he began, choosing his words carefully, "she... she is not who she appears to be. Her life, her choices, even her very being, is not her own."

Felix was stunned. "But why? How is that possible?" he asked, trying to make sense of the revelation.

Austin's gaze softened. "It's a long and complicated story, Felix. One that involves a father's legacy, expectations, and... sacrifices."

Felix's mind raced, trying to grasp the enormity of what he was hearing. "So, she's living a life that's been chosen for her? Not one she's chosen herself?"

Austin nodded solemnly. "Yes, Felix. And it's a burden she carries every day."

Aurelia's true identity was shrouded in a poignant tale of loss and expectation. Mr. Hawthorne, her adoptive father, had been devastated by the passing of his wife, followed tragically by the death of their biological daughter at a tender age. 

Stricken with grief, he sought solace in adopting a child, naming her after his deceased daughter and burdening her with the expectations and memories of the child he had lost.

Aurelia, whose real name was different, grew up under the weight of her adoptive father's expectations.

She was not just expected to resemble his late daughter in appearance but also to emulate her mannerisms and personality. 

The blue flower, the violet dress—these were not choices she made but symbols of her father's unending grief and his desire to cling to the past.

Despite the heavy mantle placed upon her, Aurelia tried her best to fulfill Mr. Hawthorne's wishes. 

Mr. Hawthorne's increasing absence from the palace gave her some reprieve, but it also meant that she was left alone to navigate her complex emotions and the suffocating expectations placed upon her.

When Mr. Hawthorne reached a point where he felt it was time to immortalize Aurelia in a portrait, it added yet another layer of pressure. 

As Aurelia grew older, her features began to change, deviating from the resemblance to Mr. Hawthorne's late daughter. 

This subtle transformation heightened Mr. Hawthorne's desperation to immortalize her current appearance. 

He hoped that by capturing her likeness in a portrait, he could freeze her in time, preserving the memory of his lost daughter.

Aurelia, however, was keenly aware of the real reason behind her father's insistence on the portrait.

She knew that once the painting was completed and her father had a tangible representation of her, he would have no further use for her in the role she had been forced to play. 

Her fear of abandonment and the unknown world outside the palace walls fueled her defensive and aggressive behavior towards the painters.

Her seemingly arrogant and aggressive demeanor was, in reality, a defense mechanism—a desperate attempt to push away those who might capture her likeness and, in doing so, hasten her departure from the only home she had ever known. 

Aurelia's harsh facade masked a deep-seated fear and vulnerability, a fear of being cast aside once her usefulness to Mr. Hawthorne had expired.

Felix, now aware of Aurelia's true predicament, felt a surge of empathy and compassion towards her.