“And the roses?” I asked.
“Of course, the roses.”
I can still picture her face when she said it.
For a while, I believed our future was already written.
Then her father died, and everything changed.
Anna’s mother had little money and even fewer options. A wealthy businessman named Thomas Mitchell began visiting their home. He was in his forties, owned several properties, and had connections with people whose names carried weight in our town.
He was also a widower who wanted a much younger wife.
Anna was nineteen when her family announced that she would marry him.
She came to see me one evening, her eyes red from crying.
“I told them I don’t love him,” she whispered.
“Then tell them again.”
“I have.”
“Anna, we can leave. I’ll find work somewhere else. It might not be easy, but we’ll manage.”
She shook her head.
“You don’t understand. My mother says she can’t survive without his help. He has promised to pay our debts and make sure she has a home.”
