𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑷𝑯𝑬𝑪𝒀 || 𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐥𝐫𝐚𝐬

03. 𝑪𝒆 𝑪𝒐𝒕𝒆 𝑫𝒆 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒆

Chapter 3.

✎ᝰ

March 13, 1832.

THE MORNING SUN broke through the dull sky of Paris, filtering through the narrow streets and streaming into the small apartment Elizabeth called home.

It was a new day, a day marked by possibilities that made her heart flutter with anticipation. She blinked the sleep from her eyes, quickly silencing the echoes of troubled dreams filled with shadows and upheaval.

Smoothing back her unruly hair, Elizabeth dressed quickly, pulling on a simple cream blouse and dark skirt. She carefully tucked in an unfinished manuscript.

With a steadying breath, she gathered her thoughts, reminding herself of the plan she had made with Enjolras the night before.

The excitement bubbled within her as she recalled their plan hatched the night prior, to venture into the heart of Paris to distribute food to the homeless and share their revolutionary pamphlets.

As she stepped outside, Elizabeth felt the brisk air bite at her cheeks, invigorating her spirit as she strode toward the café where they had agreed to meet. The rue was colorful and fragrant, bustling with life, but her heart fluttered only at the thought of who awaited.

Enjolras was already waiting for her. He looked up as she approached, his piercing eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. He wore his usual attire, though the crispness of his shirt spoke of a man preparing for a battle not of swords, but of ideals.

"Good morning," he greeted, and there was a glimmer in his blue eyes, a hint of excitement that made Elizabeth's heart skip a beat.

"Morning," she greeted, her voice surprisingly buoyant.

A rare grin broke across his features. His golden curls caught the sunlight, haloing his head like a prophet's. "Are we ready to make the world a better place today?"

"Absolutely!" she chimed enthusiastically, never having seen him so easy in demeanor. They entered the café, the aroma of fresh pastries wafting over them like a warm embrace.

They moved to the counter, ordering an array of pastries, bread, and a few sweet rolls for the children they hoped to encounter on their journey.

Elizabeth glanced around, taking in the bustle of patrons and baristas. "Let's get a variety," she said, smiling at the baker behind the counter. "The more, the better!"

Enjolras nodded, watching her with an intensity that caught her off guard, making her self-conscious.

With the bulging bag secured on her shoulder, Elizabeth led the way, her steps quickening at the thought of reaching out to Paris' underserved.

The two young revolutionaries set forth, their footsteps muffled by the cobbled streets, each step echoing with determination.

As they walked through the narrow streets, past crumbling buildings and dim alleyways, the city unfolded around them, a canvas of struggle decorated with resilience.

Elizabeth's heart was heavy yet hopeful as they ventured deeper into the heart of poverty that lay hidden beneath the grandeur of Paris.

✎ᝰ

They approached a small square where groups of homeless families sought shelter from the biting chill.

As they walked deeper into the city, Elizabeth noticed that Enjolras was watching her with a keen eye.