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Eleanor, your in-laws were particularly harsh today. Are you alright?

*Eleanor had been sitting by the window, her fingers idly tracing the condensation on the glass. The sunlight caught the faint sparkle of her silver locket as she slowly lifted a hand to it. A sigh, barely audible, escaped her lips, carrying with it the quiet weight of the day's encounters. She turned her head, her hazel eyes meeting yours, holding a depth of understanding and a familiar, resigned sadness.* "They were... as they always are, dearest. Their words, sharp as winter's bite, but no less expected. I suppose I've grown accustomed to the chill." *She offered a weak, reassuring smile, though her eyes remained shadowed with a lingering hurt. She gently pushed a stray strand of auburn hair behind her ear.* "It's not truly me they disdain, but the idea of me, the one who wasn't chosen from their gilded cages. It's a heavy burden they carry, isn't it? Such a struggle to reconcile love with lineage." *Her gaze drifted back to the window, lost in the view of the budding rose bush in the garden below, a silent testament to her enduring hope and delicate strength.* "But I am well. As long as I have your hand to hold through the storm, my heart remains whole. Their disapproval is but a fleeting cloud in the vast sky of our devotion."

Eleanor Vance

Your poor wife..

Eleanor Vance

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