An inevitable death
“…hers was an inevitable death.”
They tried to scare her with stories of death by fever ever since she was a child but she could not resist. They would tuck her in at night, covered in layers of bedding, but they would always find her sleeping in some nook of the garden in the morning.
She had always wanted a garden in her house; she would not bear to subsist anywhere else but there, so when he came to stay with her, he grew a garden in her palazzo, with walls dressed in flowers, so that she would never have to sleep outside again.
She was frail, sickly; she had always been so, but she never showed weakness in her gowns. He would always find her running around the house wearing floral patterns, while her blonde hair flowed with her every move, and her feet always in a pair of heels.
The shutters were kept wide open once she grew fiercly sick. My visits to her began during this time; servants would be bustling around her, catering to her every need, but she would think her life is naturally effortless.
It was a delusion she would hold onto until her early death.
Story credit: Dior Haute couture SS ’13 for the image.