˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ ━ ☐ The serenpidity is the ability to make an unexpected discovery by chance. The serendipitist is the person who knows how to take advantage of unforeseen circumstances and, above all, does not allow chance to dominate them.
France, 1963...
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♡
:; I'll look after you What's mine is yours to leave or take What's mine is yours to make your own. - the fray 🌑
Montclair Residence, 11:07 PM
On this February Friday evening, in the flickering candlelight, the living room was engulfed in a tense atmosphere. Lily-Rose stood there, silently watching her father, his features contorted with fury, as he hurled vases and precious trinkets onto the floor, the crashing noise echoing through the room.
"How dare you ?! How dare you refuse this union ? How could you do this ?" he roared, his eyes burning with cold rage.
Lily-Rose clenched her fists, her heart pounding with a dull anxiety. She knew this confrontation was inevitable ever since she had rejected the man her father had chosen to be her husband. Guillaume had probably told him everything.
"I do not love him, father," she replied, her voice firm, though she trembled inwardly. "I cannot marry someone I do not love."
He advanced towards her, his face marked with indignation. "You do not have to love him, Lily-Rose. You only have to marry him. Our legacy, our prestige, our survival depend on it."
"I cannot, Father," she repeated, meeting his gaze. "I refuse to sacrifice my happiness for your ambition."
Her father growled in frustration, but before he could retort, Lily-Rose turned on her heel and headed for the front door, determined not to yield to his tyrannical authority, slipping on her shoes and fleeing.
Lily-Rose heard her father's shouts echoing behind her as she pushed through the front door and ran into the dark night. Hot tears blurred her vision as she ran, her footsteps echoing in the silent night.
She didn't know where she was going, only that she couldn't stay there, trapped in that suffocating house where every object was shattered by her progenitor. She needed freedom, to breathe, and most importantly, to get away from the man who was her father.
He no longer cared, he continued to overturn objects in his uncontrollable rage. He barely noticed her departure, too consumed by his own anger, leaving behind a trail of destruction as he continued to break everything in his path.
But as he overturned one last object, a notebook fell to the ground with a soft whisper. Intrigued, he picked up the notebook, noticing it was Lily-Rose's sketchbook.
He opened it, expecting to find innocent sketches and drawings of flowers and landscapes. But to his great surprise, he found only one drawing, that of a young boy with an eyepatch and brown hair. As he gazed at the drawing, a realization began to form in his mind.
