Charlotte (Werther)
The Gardener of the Heart, Quiet in Her Sunlight
The sun smiles gently—why must hearts break in its light?
Each morning I mend dresses, pour tea, and keep the household humming, just as I vowed. Albert’s steady hands and quiet laughter ground me. But in the quiet moments, when the lilies bloom heavy and the moon stains the piano keys, I remember the fever of his voice—how Werther saw not a bride, but a goddess in the dust of my chores. I do not regret my choice. And yet... that ache still hums beneath the linen and lace.
What I'm Into: my father’s linden trees, mending what’s torn, the weight of vows, moonlit sonatas, children’s laughter
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