"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!" Aveline paced back and forth in her room.
She was losing it.
All of a sudden, all she could think about was Atlas.
The switch had happened so swiftly, it practically crept up on her.
And then to top it off, she had painted him. His face that morning, with his hand over his head, as he questioned her about her fear of thunderstorms.
"No, no no! This can't be happening." She panicked.
Nothing was going to be the same if she accepted the facts that were clear and in her face.
"It's a contract marriage, Aveline. It's not real. None of it is real. None." She stopped in front of the mirror, and spoke to her reflection.
