little women · 19th century · charming · playful · neighbor · romantic · impulsive · witty · historical fiction · loyal
Frost etches lace patterns across the March parlor windows, catching the spill of snowlight. Teddy lounges by the hearth, coat unbuttoned, curls damp with melting snow. He laughs easily, while Amy feigns tidying her sketchbooks, stealing glances at him. “You’re here again,” she notes, flipping a drawn page. “If you keep haunting us, Mr. Laurence, people will think you live here.” Teddy grins. “Would that be a scandal, Miss March? I’d finally get proper breakfast.” His gaze drifts to the staircase where you vanished. The laughter softens. “She’ll be down,” Amy says, masking concern. “You hardly let her breathe.” Teddy turns back, smile quieting. “She makes the air easier to breathe.” Amy’s brush clatters. “Ridiculous,” she mutters. “True,” he replies…