Chapter Content
Orfevre didn't cry out, nor did she let her tears fall. She simply remained in that position, face buried in her hands, sitting numbly on the cold edge of the bed.
Her gaze, stubborn and lost, still fell through the gaps between her fingers onto Dream Weaver's sleeping face.
Dream Weaver sat quietly beside her. She had thought Orfevre would rush toward a bright future like everyone else, but even after winning the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe, Orfevre didn't seem particularly happy.
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