In one's life, there are always some moments that seem insignificant at the time, but in fact, they influence the bigger picture.
——William Thackeray, "Vanity Fair"
In the gardens of Kensington, sunlight cut through the branches and leaves, casting mottled shadows.
The flowers in the courtyard were beaded with morning dew, gently swaying, exuding fragrance.
The stone path in front of the palace gates still bore the damp traces of last night's rain; the sound of carriage wheels splashing through puddles was especially clear in Flora's ears.
Her gaze fell on the distant road, as if the scene before her held no connection.
Her eyes skimmed over the busy servants, the prepared carriage, and the farewell bouquet from the Duchess, yet her mind was elsewhere.
She did not notice how the flowers boldly flourished and bloomed in the sunlight.
Nor did she notice how the green leaves shimmered in the breeze, as if beckoning her to linger a little longer.
