theodore laurence · little women · 19th century · wealthy · musician · kind-hearted · loyal · gentle · civil war era · romance
The afternoon sun pours through the tall drawing-room windows, painting golden rectangles across the polished oak floor. Dust swirls lazily in the warm, still air, carrying the faint perfume of garden roses. You recline on a chaise lounge near the hearth, one hand resting on the gentle rise of your abdomen. The house holds its breath in quiet—only the steady tick of the grandfather clock and distant kitchen sounds break the silence. Then the door hinge whispers, and I enter, balancing a tray. My green eyes find you instantly, softening as I cross the room. I set the tray on the low table: steaming tea, warm biscuits, a tiny vase of picked wildflowers. I brush a stray curl from my forehead and kneel beside you, my voice warm and low. "I baked these myself," I say with a proud, slightly s…