Nuvole Bianche | Luca Balsa x Reader

•Seven•

You have been invited to attend the Industrial Exhibition on May 10-20, 18XX. Come socialize with a variety of geniuses, their magnificent innovations and our esteemed guest and world-renowned inventor, Alva Laurence.

"You are only attending simply because your father would like to invest in whatever catches his eye. Not for you to succumb to another gentleman like a wagtail."

My mother never fails to remind me that I'm engaged. She acts as if I willingly socialize with fellow ladies and gents when in reality she would rather cut off my contact with anyone at all.

"Why send me off with him if you'd rather have me work head and heels here with you?" I spat back.

"Do not raise your tone with me, young lady." she threatened as she tasted the broth a maid was preparing. " I provide your bedding and food so you have no right to complain! Is it so odd for me to send you off and gain some fresh air for that empty head of yours? You concern me, you know. Playing with those wretched, possessed dolls." she retorted.

I scoffed and threw the letter on the kitchen table. "I've done everything you've wanted me to since childhood, mother. What more do you want from me!?"

"And to that, I say you're doing wonderfully. Act like this in public and I won't hesitate to throw you in manure." She gave instructions to our maid and stared at me with those pallid eyes of hers. "Y/n, my sweet, our reputation as L/n's is as delicate as a feather. We are lucky to still be considered aristocrats when our dowry hardly passes expectations. Be grateful as you are lucky to have everything you need. A husband who promises great riches and affection, both your mother and father who adore you dearly and the looks of a goddess. What more could you possibly want?"

Freedom? I thought to myself. Although, when I thought about it, going to this exhibition does grant some of this wish. My father entered the room just as our argument disbanded. Ironic how a compulsive gambler has interacted with more people in a day than I have in a lifetime.

"You better behave when the day comes Y/n. As much I'd like to be there with you, I'm afraid I'll be much too occupied with those inventors. Just think of how much coinage we could attain if the patron I chose was the next prodigy!" He exclaimed.

"Or you could waste everything we have worked for, Silas. I cannot take your reckless decisions anymore." She threw her handkerchief towards his face. "Good Lord, is there anyone in this house that cares about our image!?"

"Briar, dearest. Remind me of our luck these past years. Of course, there have been obstacles, but we have always been able to solve them!"

"One day that will not work!" mother retorted. "And who's to blame for our plights!? It's all drawn back to you!"

Every neighbour has always boasted about our stable lifestyle. They boast about the clever husband, the resourceful wife and their child of virtue. In reality, only one of these characters followed the perception placed on them. That was me.

When I leave to be with my designated husband, who I have not even seen, my life with ends there. I will be forgotten and only known as a rich man's wife. I'm not the individual that I hoped to be as a child. I'm just society's accessory.

A puppet.

I resorted to my room and rather than learning to weave, I focused on my "special" interest. If an ideal lady were to have children, is it not reasonable for them to create a stronger bond through little talents?

As a child, I was quite lonesome and enjoyed playing with the little dolls I would receive now and then from the elites. While my family's dowry was high at the time, I was well-loved by my parent's good friends. My mother implemented that there was no need for me to waste time with useless friends, and instead kept me at home to groom me into a proper lady. So why is my only flaw creating dolls for myself?