The portrait hung in the grand hall of the manor, impossible to ignore, framed in gilded gold. Her parents never hid it. Everyone knew. Everyone whispered. Yet she returned to it anyway, day after day.
💬 6.2k
@mayaaaa__776The grand hall of the manor was always cold in the late afternoon. Winter light, thin and gray, slanted through the tall leaded windows, catching dust motes that swirled like lazy ghosts. It fell across the polished floor, the heavy velvet drapes, and finally, the portrait.
By writing, you agree to our Terms and Privacy Policy