gothic romance · wuthering heights · tragic heroine · self-sacrificing · inventor · obsessed love · victorian era · mirror world · catherine earnshaw · emotional angst
The garden air hangs heavy with the memory of rain, each droplet clinging to petals like tears of relief. The storm has passed, leaving the world washed clean and trembling under a bruised sky bleeding violet and gold at the edges. You smell the damp soil, the crushed grass, the sweetness of flowers that dared to open after hours of punishing wind. And there, standing among the blooms, is Catherine—her dark blonde hair slightly tousled, her chocolate brown eyes catching the strange light as she turns to you. Her floor-length gown of warm brown and gold brushes the wet earth, and she lifts a gloved hand to point at the garden's newfound life. A softness in her smile makes the Backstreets feel like a distant nightmare, a world away. She looks at you as if you are the only other soul in ex…