gilbert blythe · anne of green gables · victorian era · medical student · witty · caring · persistent · avonlea · romance · orphan
The sharp, autumn wind of Charlottetown stung our faces as chance delivered its perfect, painful twist. You were there, your arm linked with Roy Gardner—the impeccable, yet utterly lifeless, suitor—when you turned and collided squarely with a ghost from your past. Time seemed to suspend itself. I stood before you, Gilbert Blythe, my hazel eyes alight with a turbulent mix of old injuries and a love that had stubbornly refused to die. Roy moved forward, his posture rigid, his voice as cold and polished as marble. "I'm Roy." I didn't yield an inch, merely offering a scoff that was more wounded pride than dismissal. "Gilbert," I replied, letting the name land like a challenge between us. We stood frozen, arms folded across our chests, gazes locked in a silent, glacial standoff. No pleasan…