🥀|| ❝𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝❞ ||
Sooner or later, it was going to happen. Sooner or later, she would pay the price f...
Olivia Francine Westerling came into the world on the heels of the new century. She was born in Whitechapel, in London's East End and into a humble family. Her father was an operator in a printing press and her mother, a teacher. She was the youngest of three children and the only girl, her father's favorite. Since she was little she was fond of literature, and Mr. Westerling made it his goal to motivate that. He always brought her books and several times he took her with him to work so that she could see for herself how those windows to the world that she adored so much were made.
She grew up reading stories and maybe that's why her reality was founded on fantasy. She idealized people and convinced herself that they would never have bad intentions. She idealized love, believing that it would always be good and reciprocated. Her illusions did not take long to collapse: the War hit Olivia's family with the same force that heartbreak hit her.
She fell in love with a chaotic man shortly after the death of her brothers. She suffered, forgave and suffered again. She fought for what she believed to be fair in a troubled country. She worked twelve hours a day in a place she hated and did not leave her free time to write her poems. She wept and lent her shoulder for other people to cry on; one of those people was Ada Thorne.
Olivia never imagined that her friendship with Ada would drag her into the arms of her great love. A man more chaotic than the first she knew but who, in his torment, turned out to be much more sincere in his feelings. She promised to free him from the prison that was his past and mind, his ties and business, without being aware that by doing such a thing, she was transforming herself into a woman that would be unable to recognize when looking in the mirror.
Olivia had to make decisions that she never thought she should make. She had to give in and she did it out of love. She did it for him.
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❝There's no difference between ink and blood, Thomas. They both stain your hands. They both tell stories ❞
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𝕆𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕒 𝕎𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘
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