In the days that followed, Ariane made several attempts to speak to me. She even tried grabbing my arm once, but I wrenched free with little difficulty. I was distantly horrified by the way she flinched back from my glare, but the anger at her betrayal still simmered inside me. I went about my work and she didn't try to stop me again.

She attempted to contact me through the books, but I simply placed them on her desk without reading them or even bothering to check for any notes.

She became so distressed that she didn't bother to maintain her normal mask of indifference around her family. She sulked and worried at meals. Of course Florina noticed and needled her furiously which only soured her mood further.

Once my anger had cooled, part of me wanted to give her a chance to apologize and explain herself to me, but the pain of her betrayal hurt too much. I couldn't let go of the mental image of her creeping into the cellar, down among the scientific equipment that had been used to revive me. The horror of knowing what I was had faded somewhat in my years of isolation, but the thought of Ariane perusing the notes was enough for me to feel it anew.

Two weeks after the anniversary of my birth, after my stepmother dismissed me for the night, I was settling in for bed when there was a light tapping at my door.

"Ella please open the door," Ariane said softly.

She must have been truly desperate to come here directly with her mother and sister in the house. My first instinct was to ignore her, I certainly wasn't ready to forgive her. Simultaneously, I was overcome with a desperate loneliness. Brittle as it was, hers had been the only companionship I had experienced since Victor died.

When I opened the door, she looked utterly despondent. Her hair was unkempt and her eyes were wild from lack of sleep. She was clutching a book to her chest as if she were drowning and it was the only thing keeping her afloat.

Words flooded out of her in a rush as if she was afraid I might slam the door in her face.

"Ella, I'm sorry. I hurt you again. I don't expect your forgiveness, nor do I deserve it. You are my only friend and I betrayed your trust. I wish I had told you when I found the notes. I can't change what I did, but I can offer you this."

She reluctantly held out the book she was clutching. It was a thin volume, bound in faded blue linen. It clearly wasn't one of Victor's notebooks.

"I'm trusting you now, with this."

"Ariane, I'm not reading your diary."

"It's not…" she closed her eyes and took a breath. "That's not what this is. Remember when you asked me about my favorite book and I deflected? Please, just read it. You'll understand. I want you to understand."

Curiosity won out and I carefully took the book from her. I started to open it but her hands shot out to cover mine and snap it shut.

"No, not yet. I…"

I stared at where her hands covered mine. I was shocked by the contract and I couldn't recall the last time I had been touched in a way that didn't have anger behind it. Her hands were warm and soft and I felt a strange flutter in my chest.

She was clearly equally shocked. She stayed completely still for a few seconds before she recoiled as if my hands were red hot.

Her face was bright red as she cleared her throat. "I don't think I can bear to be in the room when you read it."

"Fine," I said and she relaxed fractionally.

"My mother and sister can't know I have that. Please, just read it tonight and return it to me before they wake. Or… if you really hate me, show it to my mother."

Despite myself, I gasped. It was confusing, but I half understood. Every relationship in her life had been adversarial. In her mind, exposing vulnerability was exposing something that could be used against her.

"Ariane, I don't know what this is, but I wouldn't do that to you. I'm not-"

The words died in my throat. I didn't say it, but she knew what I meant all the same. She gave me a pathetic, lopsided smile.

"You're not cruel. Not like me"

"That's not what I meant," I said pleadingly.

She shrugged. "It's true though and you'd be right to say it. Ella, I don't deserve your friendship and you certainly never deserved the way I've treated you, but… but you make me want to be a better person."

She swallowed. She looked like she might break into tears at any moment.

"Please don't judge me too harshly when you read it."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that, but she whirled and fled, leaving me alone and somewhat baffled.

It was poetry.

It was love poetry written by a woman about another woman.

As I read I understood what she had trusted me with. I recalled the conversation we had had earlier that summer, about how she wanted to run away, to be free. I understood now with new context.

My education has never touched on such relationships, but I had heard Florina occasionally gossip about individuals who had been caught in compromising situations with members of their own sex. She and Elisabetta always made it perfectly clear that such things were monstrous and grotesque.

Ariane had endured those conversations in silence.

I knew better than most how it felt to simply try to exist in a world that wasn't built for you. I knew what it was like to be seen as a monster. What was I if not grotesque?

I finished the book as the sky began to lighten with the coming dawn. I hadn't slept at all, it was impossible to stop reading.

I snatched a slip of scrap paper and scribbled a note.

Thank you for sharing this with me. You may not believe it, but you do deserve happiness.

She didn't rise when I stole into her room to set the book back on her desk and collect her laundry. I saw her crack her eyes open to watch me, but neither of us said a word. I doubt she had gotten any more sleep than I had. It was so strange that my judgment could mean so much to someone.

At breakfast that morning, she flashed me a relieved smile that was gone in an instant. She kept glancing at me anxiously despite attempting to maintain her normal mask of indifference. There was so much that we needed to discuss, but it would be another week before our next opportunity.

As I went about my duties, my mind kept wandering back to that book.

I knew of romance. I devoured the romance novels that Ariane lent me. But until that night I had only ever conceptualized love between a man and a woman. My entire understanding of romance had been filtered through societal norms that I never thought to question.

Reading the words the book contained opened my eyes to new possibilities. It was strange and exciting in ways I couldn't describe. I was shaken to the core and I didn't know what that meant.