Mother Dumas appeared in the narrow doorway of her daughter's small bedroom.
Mylova was her pride, her treasure, her blood, her flesh. She had never once let her down.
Until tonight.
"Hm… you look lovely in that dress. It suits you perfectly."
"Thank you, Mother!"
And yet… I don't recall ever buying it.
"Of course not. It arrived this morning. A gift from Louis."
At the mention of his name, Mylova's lips curved into a smile. At her mother's, her expression hardened.
"We've discussed this, Mylova. I told you I don't want you seeing that boy. His wealth does not make him your soulmate."
"Oh, Mother, please! Stop believing those tales! That abbot claims he was sent by Christ—if that were true, I would know!"
"You do know, Mylova. You simply choose to ignore it."
"If our love were doomed, it would have ended by now."
"What you have with him is nothing but an illusion!"
"It's real, Mother. Louis and I love each other—truly, deeply."
"Enough, Mylova Dumas! I said it ends, and it will end. This discussion is over!"
She left without another word, her steps brisk, her heart heavy.
Despite her sharp tone, Mother Dumas was a gentle, loving woman—fiercely protective of her children. Raised under the unyielding rules of a society built on tradition and faith, she believed it was her duty to pass these values on.
A Creole beauty with natural grace, she had given birth to three children she considered heaven's gifts.
Marc, the eldest at twenty-eight, was her mirror image—striking, magnetic, impossible to ignore.
Mylova, the dreamer, intelligent and strong-willed, could have had countless suitors if not for the sacred law that demanded one wait for their true love. In New Orleans, breaking the Abbey's law of love meant risking divine wrath.
And Vanessa, the youngest—an angel in human form, with a voice from a fairy tale and a heart pure enough to soften even the cruelest soul.
But tonight, Mylova was not the obedient daughter her mother knew.
A fire had been lit inside her—bold, unshakable, defiant.
With courage in her chest and hope in her heart, she climbed out the window, praying she would land on her feet.
Mother Dumas appeared in the narrow doorway of her daughter's small bedroom.
Mylova was her pride, her treasure, her blood, her flesh. She had never once let her down.
Until tonight.
—Hm, you look beautiful in that dress. It fits you perfectly.
—Thank you, Mother!
And yet… I don't remember ever buying it.
—Of course not. It was delivered this morning. It's from Louis.
She smiled as she said her boyfriend's name, and Mother Dumas' expression hardened.
—We've talked about this, Mylova. I told you I don't want you seeing that boy! He may be wealthy, but that doesn't make him your soulmate.
— Oh, Mother, please! Stop believing in those stories! That abbot tells everyone he's sent by Christ — if that were true, I'd know!
—You do know, Mylova. You just choose to ignore it.
—If our love were doomed, it would have ended by now.
—What you have with him is nothing but an illusion!
—It's real, Mother. Louis and I love each other. Truly. Deeply. This isn't a game or a fantasy."
—Enough, Mylova Dumas! I said it ends, and it will end. End of discussion!
She left without another word, her steps quick, her heart heavy. Despite her sharp tone, Mother Dumas was a gentle, loving woman — fiercely protective of her children. Raised under the unbending rules of a society ruled by tradition and faith, she believed it was her duty to pass these values on.
A Creole beauty with natural grace, she had given birth to three children she considered heaven's gifts.
Marc, the eldest at twenty-eight, was her mirror image — striking, magnetic, impossible to ignore.
Mylova, the dreamer, intelligent and strong-willed, could have had countless suitors if the sacred law of waiting for one's true love didn't keep them away. In New Orleans, breaking the Abbey's law of love meant risking divine wrath.
And Vanessa, the youngest — an angel in human form. Heavenly beauty, a voice from a fairy tale, and a heart pure enough to move even the cruelest soul.
But tonight, Mylova wasn't the obedient daughter her mother knew. A fire had been lit inside her — bold, unshakable, defiant.
With courage in her chest and hope in her heart, she climbed out the window, praying she'd land on her feet.