𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘

𝑢𝑛𝑒

∘◦ ☆ ◦∘

"𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐄, 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐄 à l'intérieur et fais tes corvées!" Maman called from the kitchen window, waving her dishcloth around to get my attention, as she does when she doesn't want to have to ask more than once.

Turning around to face the small cottage we owned, I rolled my eyes and raised the notebook in my hand to show that I was in the middle of something, "Une minute maman, je dois juste finir ça!"

Gazing back out at the large lake in front of me, I let out another long sigh, which I seem to have been doing a lot lately. Picking up the graphite pencil from between the pages, I continued writing my weekly frustrations.

⠀

May 15, 1904

Cher journal, Maman has been pressuring me more and more as time moves closer to my eighteenth birthday. She believes that she has picked out the perfect man for me to marry when I come of age.

The thing is, she doesn't understand the concept of love and how it works; Papa barely pays any attention to her as it is. You can't force two people into the same room and expect them to get along, let alone live together for the rest of their lives.

I don't want to meet the man she picked out. He can be as handsome as he wants, there is no way we would ever love each other as a man and wife should, not when our relationship would be arranged. I just wish there was a way out of the plan she set for me; no more etiquette lessons and no more frilly clothes.

⠀

"Coralie, dépêche-toi!" Maman called out to me again, shutting the window with a slam, which rocked it on its hinges. I could tell an argument was in store for me, that is when the neighbouring houses aren't listening.

Standing up from my spot on the grass, I took one more long look out across the lake for the day and made my way across the yard. Opening the door to go back into the house, I sighed at the pile of dishes waiting in the sink.

☆

Sitting with my legs crossed under the dinner table, my light blue dress lied over them nicely. I wasn't the biggest fan of the lace and shiny buttons, but I had no choice in wearing it. My blonde hair was braided in such an elaborate way, that I didn't think I could get it out when this evening is over.

A couple of days had passed and Maman believed that it was time for me to meet my future husband. I tapped the tips of my fingers onto the wooden table as I waited impatiently for them to arrive. I wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and Papa quickly went to answer it, waiting a few seconds to breathe before he opened the door. There was a warm greeting of words and a few handshakes exchanged between them as Maman and the woman made polite conversation. Papa and the father, their tones were almost identical in the way they spoke.

Moving out from behind his father, was the man I was supposed to marry in a couple of months. He had a dark brooding face with chestnut coloured hair and bright green eyes, his physique was tall and broad. He couldn't be older than twenty-five.

Hearing a loud clap from the doorway, I jumped at the noise and watched as both the sets of parents moved to the sitting room. I turned back to the man and observed him. His posture spoke greatly into the idea that he seemed to carry himself with confidence, a sort of arrogance that could potentially be troublesome.