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Hello, everyone! This is my first story on this platform. While I usually prefer not to write short stories, this idea has been stuck in my mind for a few days, and I wrote it in a hurry. In this story, you may find hints or reasonable answers t...
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Years later, she stood in front of the mirror again, in a dress as delicate as her pencil strokes once had been. Outside the door, she could hear her family and friends, their voices filled with laughter and happiness. The house was wrapped in a comfortable scent, the soft hum of the evening settling into each room. They'd just come back from the ceremony, and Aurelia found herself glancing around their new home, taking in the feeling of finally being here.
Her husband's voice broke the silence, a curious warmth to his tone. "Hey... look what I found." She turned to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, her old, weathered sketchbook in his hands, opened to a familiar page. She hadn't even realized it was there-tucked into her suitcase as if it had been waiting for this moment.
"Where did you find that?" she asked softly, moving to sit beside him.
"In your case," he replied, a gentle smile playing at his lips as he looked back down at the sketch. "Maybe it snuck in there on its own."
For a moment, she wanted to laugh. It felt so unexpected, so strange to see it here. Her old sketches, her old self. She hadn't opened that book in years, hadn't shown it to anyone. And yet, here it was, each page holding memories she had never really left behind.
He flipped carefully through the pages as if each drawing was a fragile part of her, too precious to touch but too meaningful to look away from. When he reached the first page-the portrait she'd drawn of herself all those years ago-his gaze lingered.
"Is this... you?" he asked, his voice soft, almost reverent. She nodded, feeling a mixture of pride and vulnerability stirring inside her. She could still remember how she had drawn each detail with both hope and doubt, how she had agonized over every perceived flaw. She remembered the laughter, the judgment, the long journey to finally find peace with herself.
To her surprise, he looked at the sketch with nothing but admiration, tracing her sketched features with his fingertips. "Aurelia, this is beautiful. All of it."
She felt her heart lift as he spoke, his words a balm to memories she had long since healed but never forgotten. "You're just being nice," she teased, a small smile creeping onto her face. But he shook his head, his eyes meeting hers with unshakeable conviction.
"No," he said, "I mean it. I'll keep this safe with me always. We should seal it up in one of those time capsules, so you'll have it forever. It's a part of you-of the woman I've married today."
Aurelia felt tears pricking at the edges of her eyes, her vision blurring as she held his gaze. All these years, she'd thought that no one could see beauty in the parts of her she once felt ashamed of, yet here he was, holding those pieces as though they were treasure.
She laughed softly through her tears. "I failed to manipulate you," she whispered, her voice trembling with a happiness so deep it felt almost foreign. "I thought this was my ugly phase... I never thought anyone could look at it this way."
He took her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles, grounding her in the moment. "Maybe it was. But it made you who you are now, and that's what makes it beautiful." She could only nod, her heart too full for words.
