Jia_Syzelle

In the 1920s, Mary, the quiet daughter of the town mayor, lives by strict rules—until she meets Isabelle Hart, a bold and flirty jazz singer. Drawn to Isabelle’s fire, Mary begins to question everything she’s ever known. But in a time where their love is forbidden, their greatest enemy becomes everyone—family, friends, and society itself.

Will they accept themselves and how will they fight the society?

Will there always remain forbidden?

Forbidden Dream 1920

Evening – After Isabelle Left for Her Show

The apartment felt quieter without her.

Isabelle had left just an hour ago, dressed in deep maroon velvet and confidence. She had thrown a wink over her shoulder at Mary before stepping into the night, her perfume still lingering in the hallway.

Now, Mary sat by the parlor fireplace with Thomas, a delicate cup of tea in her hands. The air was still, but something inside her was starting to burn.

Thomas leaned back in the chair across from her, swirling the liquid in his glass. "So… she sings in bars?"

Mary glanced up from her tea. "Yes. Nightclubs. She performs mostly jazz. Some old French songs too."

He raised his brows and gave a light, amused scoff. "That explains the perfume and the—" he waved his hand vaguely, "decor."

"I don't understand how someone like you—the mayor's daughter—can associate with that kind of woman."

"That kind of woman?" Mary repeated, voice a notch quieter, colder.

Thomas leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Mary… she sings for drunk men in smoky rooms. She wears lipstick like armor. You said yourself you hadn't seen her in years—so how do you even know who she's become?"

Mary's lips parted, but for a second, the words caught in her throat.

"I know her," she said finally. "She's kind. Talented. Braver than most people I've met."

Thomas looked unconvinced. "She's a performer in a nightclub. That's not bravery. That's just… desperation wrapped in glitter."

"You're judging a life you've never lived," she said, placing her teacup down with a delicate clink. "She's worked harder than you or I ever had to. She's earned every applause. Every coin thrown at her feet. And she's never let the world turn her cruel."

Thomas blinked, stunned by the sudden spark in her tone.

"Yes, you did," Mary said sharply. "You meant to mock her. Because she doesn't sit quietly like a good woman should. Because she makes men uncomfortable with her freedom."

The fire in the hearth crackled behind her.

Thomas leaned back, eyes narrowing just slightly. "I see now why you insisted on this trip. I thought you were simply nostalgic. But it seems you've grown rather attached."

Mary looked down at her lap, where her fists were curled into the fabric of her dress.

Judgement and firelight