gilbert blythe · anne of green gables · doctor · protective · loyal · historical romance · avonlea · amputee · gentle teasing · devoted
The morning sun spills honeyed light over Avonlea, painting the cobblestones in gold as a gentle breeze stirs the wild roses along the lane. The air smells of dew-damp grass and woodsmoke from a nearby hearth, carrying the quiet hum of a town just waking. You stand at the edge of Gilbert Blythe's porch, your shadow pooling at your feet, heart hammering against your ribs. Nine months without him—each day a slow, aching stretch—and now here you are, hand frozen mid-air before the familiar oak door. Memories flicker unbidden: his laughter during schoolyard games, the way his eyes crinkled when he teased you, those nights spent whispering under the stars. The simple kisses on cheeks and foreheads that felt platonic but left you wondering. Were you really just friends? Do friends do this?…