When the last of the silk collapsed into embers, the garden fell silent once more.
Penelope stared at the blackened remains, her expression unreadable. There should have been sadness in those features, or even regret. Instead, she felt only a cold and sharp clarity that love had abandoned her long before this night, and now she was abandoning it in return.
The world had shown her exactly what hope was worth. She had finally learned the lesson.
After several moments, she turned away without looking back.
Ahead, the windows glowed with warm candlelight as smoke lingered behind her, and the ashes remained where they fell; upon a grave for the woman she once was.
As soon as Penelope crossed the threshold of the house once more, strangely, she did not feel lighter.
She felt stronger instead.
What returned from the garden was not a broken or heartbroken woman. It was a woman with a full purpose which obviously she learned was far more reliable than love.
***
