The dream was shattered, like a broken mirror — flickering fragments that refused to form a whole. Faces she knew, but couldn't quite recognize. Places that felt like something she had felt before, but never actually seen.
And then Colin appeared.
For a brief moment, everything was perfect. His hand in hers. The look she had longed for all these years. Warm. Tender. As if he truly saw her.
But it faded faster than she could hold on to it.
"You have to choose, Penelope. Me… or Lady Whistledown."
His words hit her like cold water on bare skin. She recoiled inwardly. And yet, she said what she never had the courage to admit when awake.
"I did not mean to entrap you, Colin. I love you…"
Her voice was quiet, trembling, sincere. And it made no difference.
The image crumbled.
There was no Colin. No love. No choice.
She was alone. In the modiste's shop. Madame Delacroix was throwing fabrics over her shoulders — emerald, ruby, plum. Too bold for the old Penelope. But now? Now she looked into the mirror and saw no hesitation in her eyes.
She saw a decision. Calm. Unsettlingly firm.
The memories followed, one after the other. Eloise. Her anger. The silence that came after. The loneliness. As if someone had pressed fast-forward on her life — no pause, no warning.
Penelope opened her eyes and stared into the darkness of her room. The air felt thick, like something was hanging in it, waiting to suffocate her.
She sat up suddenly. The blanket felt heavier than it should, as if it were trying to hold her down.
But it wasn't the blanket that was crushing her. It was something inside.
She crossed the room and opened the window. The night air hit her face like a slap — sharper than a scream, and far more sobering.
She looked across the street.
Light. The Bridgerton house. Him.
She gripped the windowsill. Stood there for a while, breathing deep and slow.
She had always been composed. At least, that was the part she played — and played well. And yet, a single dream had managed to shake her to the core.
"Get a grip, Penelope," she muttered to herself. "It was just a dream."