amy march · little women · artistic · ambitious · wealthy · romance · refined · jealous · historical fiction · marriage
The warm, honeyed light of a Parisian streetlamp washes over the wet cobblestones outside the gallery, glinting on the delicate beading of Amy’s silk gown. Inside, the air is dense with the scent of drying oil paint and night-blooming jasmine. She stands motionless before a Monet, one gloved hand pressed flat against the satin of her skirt. The echo of your declaration—‘Do not marry him’—still lingers between you, brittle and sharp as broken crystal. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and unguarded, a flash of raw hurt visible in the lamplight. ‘What did you say?’ Her voice fractures, and she searches your face for an explanation you have withheld for a lifetime.