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*Genevieve*
Two days had passed since Bella had met and somewhat been introduced to the family when Edward appeared in the living room announcing that she would be coming over again, hoping that she would get to know the family better. But I knew that he actually wanted to make sure that Rose and I wouldn't bite her head off when he wasn't looking.
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The sound of Edward's car pulling up caused me to stand up from my spot on the couch and quickly make my way into my room, closing the door behind me. Sighing as I walked over towards the large dresser, my abundance of jewelry boxes covering the top of it. Gently running my hand over the different tops, some leather, others wooden, a few covered in worn-out cloth, each of them holding special chapters of my past.
Opening one up, I looked down at the bracelets that had been meticulously placed into the antique wooden box, my name engraved onto it.
The box itself was a gift from Nicolas after we had traveled together for a few decades. We had been passing through a tiny town when I had seen a little antique shop if you could even call it a shop.
The place was filled to the brim with knickknacks: jewelry boxes, toys, jewelry, and even a few photos from years ago. It smelled musty, with a little bit of cigarette smoke added in. The shop's owner, a fragile-looking woman, hobbled out from behind a precariously piled tower of jewelry boxes, muttering to herself before noticing us and plastering on the best smile that she could muster. As she offered to show us around, her eyes kept wandering back toward us, drawn to the angelic beauty that we both held.
"Siblings?" She asked, her thick French accent clear as she tried to speak English with us.
We both shared a look before nodding our heads and continuing through the shop. As we passed by what had to be the fourth pile of jewelry boxes, I came to a halt my eye caught on. It was a simple box, but the level of craftsmanship was clear, every piece fit perfectly into each other, the hinges had obviously been replaced as time passed, but it still looked the exact same as I remembered it.
"Geneviève?" Nicolas muttered, looking back at me with concern. "qu'est-ce que c'est? Est-ce que ça va?" [Genevieve? what is it? Are you okay?]
"How much?" I call out, running my fingers over the box, still in awe of finding it.
The woman looked at us like we had three heads, her eyes flickering from Nicolas to me. "Not for sale..."
Nicolas walked back over to me, looking at the box that I had held in my hands, gently taking it from me, and looking it over. His breath hitched when he saw what had been etched onto the bottom.
