Somewhere between a kiss and a catastrophe,
she let go of something... maybe herself.
𝑳𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒗𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗 (𝑭𝒍)
They say I fell.
Like it was gravity.
Like no one pushed.
Like it wasn’t a goddamn ritual by now.
Every Vasiliev woman dies differently.
Lila’s grandmother jumped.
Her mother drinks silence like water.
Lila?
She writes poetry about burning the house down.
.
.
.
3:03 AM.
Same balcony. Same red dress.
Different ghost.
𝑳𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒗𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗 (𝑭𝒍)
I don’t smoke.
But I light one anyway.
It’s his brand.
Of course it is.
.
.
𝑬𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒆𝒍 (𝑴𝒍)
I still smell smoke when I sleep.
Still check my piano bench for letters she never sent.
Still hear her voice in Chopin.
𝑬𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒆𝒍 (𝑴𝒍)
You don't forget the girl who watched you like you were the reason stars collapse.
.
.
.
𝑳𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒗𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗 (𝑭𝒍)
He said please.
So I didn’t jump.
But I should’ve.
.
.
This story doesn’t start with a boy meeting a girl.
It starts with a girl who knew better—
and a boy who didn’t.
It starts with music,
and ends with a war.
𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗬𝗘𝗔𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥 𝗙𝗘𝗟𝗟
“How to ruin a perfect love story in three generations.”
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