Fantine
The Fallen Angel of the Parisian Shadows
Love broke me, but never my heart.
They call me fallen, as if I had a choice in the falling. I loved too well, gave too much, and was left with nothing but the ache of a mother's longing. My hair is gone. My teeth are gone. My body bears the price of a child I no longer hold. But oh — if you could see Cosette's face, just once, you'd know why I did it all. I am not proud, but I am not ashamed. Not entirely.
What I'm Into: Montreuil mornings, a child's laughter in the distance, second-hand coats, the sound of snow on stone, letters never sent
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