Reflections of the choices

Chapter thirteen

1815

After that night when Sophie and Benedict met at the cottage, she didn't see him for several days. He was still unwell and needed rest, while Sophie busied herself with her daily chores around the house, avoiding him. Her emotions were conflicted—relief that he wasn't nearby and sadness that their encounter had been left unfinished. As soon as Benedict recovered, he left almost immediately for the academy, and Sophie sighed in relief. The cottage had become a home for her, a quiet and cozy refuge, but she knew her presence would have been complicated if Benedict were there.

One morning, Sophie woke before everyone else. The stillness of the house filled her with peace, and she decided to go to the lake to watch the sunrise. The fog had not yet lifted, and everything around was shrouded in coolness. Sophie loved this time of day when the sun was just beginning to rise above the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. She walked slowly to the water, slipping off her shoes and allowing the cool water to brush her toes. Gradually, she began to undress, carefully folding her clothes on a large flat stone by the shore. She stepped cautiously into the water, feeling it embrace her body, and started to swim, savoring every movement.

Unbeknownst to Sophie, Benedict was watching her. He had returned to the cottage late at night, exhausted and weary, but instead of going straight to bed, he decided to head to the lake to paint, as he often did when seeking inspiration. He settled in a concealed spot among the reeds, with his easel and brushes at the ready. Benedict sat quietly, thinking he would be alone, but when he saw Sophie, he froze. In the soft morning light, she appeared almost ethereal, like a nymph emerging from the water. He watched as she moved freely, enjoying each moment as if the water were her true element. Benedict couldn't help but smile, captivated by her grace and serenity.

His heart quickened as Sophie began to undress. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her graceful movements and the innocent expression on her face as she immersed herself in the water. He hadn't expected to see her here, in this state of freedom and calm. Every step she took, every stroke of her hand in the water, mesmerized him. He reached for his tools and began to sketch, striving not only to capture her likeness but also the unique light that seemed to emanate from her. He painted her as a true nymph bathing at dawn, as if time itself had ceased to exist.

A few days after their accidental meeting at the lake, Sophie was tidying up Benedict's studio. She was organizing his workspace, arranging brushes and canvases when her eyes fell on one of the paintings leaning against the wall. It was a portrait of a handsome man with deep, contemplative eyes, and it immediately caught her attention.

"That's my father," Benedict's voice sounded behind her.

Sophie jumped, her heart racing with surprise. She hadn't expected him to return so soon.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Benedict said, stepping back.

"It's my fault; I shouldn't have intruded," Sophie replied quickly, trying to calm her nerves.

"I'm glad you came in. Sometimes it's nice to have someone else in the studio besides my thoughts," Benedict said, approaching her with a smile.

Sophie glanced around the studio, trying not to meet his gaze for too long to avoid betraying her embarrassment.

"You have an incredible talent," she said, pointing to the paintings. "I didn't know you could draw so beautifully."

"Do you really think so?" Benedict replied with a sly smile, keeping his eyes on her. "I've always doubted my abilities."

"You shouldn't. Your work is full of life. My father painted too," Sophie recalled warmly. "He used to help me create sketches for the dresses I sewed."