Who couldn't love her? Aurelie Madelaine. She's always been precious. Always. Her long, curly red hair. Her brown eyes and long red lashes. Her pretty pink lips and cheeks. Her voice so soft and soothing. Her long finger work so delicately on the jewelry she creates and fixes at her little shop. She's a good lady. She attends mass at the cathedral with her family on Sundays. She takes the children to confession and the rosary on Wednesday. She's simply to die for.

It hurts. It hurts when her partner seems to prioritize work over their family. When they come home late after the kids are asleep and dinner's cold. It raises doubts and resentment. It's difficult when their children always ask where mommy/daddy is. It's hard for Aurelie. She doesn't want to leave you. Not at all. However, it's difficult to be alone in a relationship.

Aurelie sits on large leather armchair considered theirs. her soft rode wrapped around her thin body. She listens to the radio, but the words do register to her. She stares at the beautiful walnut door and the figure in the stained glass. The light bulb flickers in the red fringe lamp on the end table besides her.