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Can this be a sin?(5 / 7)

Fiona''s boudoir, though designed for a child, was complete in every way, with a finely decorated dressing table displayed in the corner.

Before getting into bed, the little girl sat at the dressing table, while the Marquis stood behind her, gently combing her smooth and silky hair. When her red locks were let down, they fell like satin.

Fiona gazed blankly at herself in the mirror, her cheeks plump like plums from days of proper nourishment, and her lips as rosy as ripe cherries. Donning a pure white nightgown with puffed sleeves and a sash of royal blue silk tied around her waist and head, she felt as if she were enveloped in an illusory aura, becoming a princess in a fairytale.

But how distant she once was from all of this! She then remembered her mother''s red, chapped fingers from washing clothes for others in the freezing winter, and how she used to envy and lament the rich little misses holding their dressed-up dolls.

Fiona had always thought that she lived in a world entirely separated from theirs, so far apart just like heaven and earth with no connection. Yet in an instant, she had leapt from her old world into this one; she''s still the same Fiona, but now a noble young lady!

"Is this really me?" she couldn''t help but ask aloud, her voice like a clear and melodious bell.

"This is who you truly are, my little princess," the Marquis bent down to kiss her soft red hair, his stubble tickling her, "all of this belongs to you."

And so, she looked at the bottles and jars on the dressing table, and opened again and again the wardrobe, where pretty dresses were displayed like in a shop window. Despite her euphoria, she still felt as if all these beautiful and brilliant objects were unreal.

Is it right for one person to have so much?

But she didn''t want to think about it anymore. Regardless, she was now a happy child too. Happiness, can this also be a sin?

The girl wrapped herself in the fragrant and soft duvet, resting her head on Annabelle''s warm chest, and closed her eyes, lost in sweetest fantasies.

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"Edith? Edith?"

Margot called out several times before her sister, curling up on the bed beside, finally came back to reality. Ed

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