When Richard first appeared with you to introduce you to his friends, the first thought that flashed through Henry's mind was Persephone. You were fragile and terribly innocent. Something that Henry doesn't think Richard deserves.

You chattered in French, and your mysterious, witch-like green eyes beckoned to Henry. Henry, for the first time in a long time, felt this pleasant heartache, which was given by your smile.

And abruptly, all the lines of the ancient Greek poets for some reason started talking only about you.

Bunny noticed it first. Yes, maybe he wasn't as good at languages as the others, but his emotional intelligence was high and he immediately understood why Henry was happy when Richard brought you with him to regular gatherings.

Today was a special day. It was your twentieth birthday. Richard insisted that you spend the day with a new company. It was awkward for you, but you agreed because your gentle nature was your Achilles heel.

You were sitting at Francis's country house and drinking wine. Henry waited for Richard to go dancing with Camilla and sat down next to you with a soft smile on his face.

"This is for you. I remember that you love Camus," Henry said and handed you a book wrapped in Tiffany-colored wrapping paper and gently hugged your fragile shoulders.