Chapter 10

Cillian

A bittersweet smile spreads across my face as I read her words, her voice echoing in my mind. It was as if she was right there beside me, whispering me words of encouragement and love. The horrors of war fade for a moment, replaced by the warmth of her sentiment. “God, you are beautiful.” I chuckle, staring at her photograph one last time before quickly folding it and placing it in my breast pocket, close to my heart.

“From Kaitlin, eh?” George asks. “Yeah, she says hello.” I say, trying to put a smile on my face. “I know you miss her, Cill. It’s no shame, I miss me wife too.” He pats my back

“Thank you, brother. And now if you’d excuse me, I’ve got a letter to write.”

–

The sun was beginning to set as I pull into the familiar driveway of my childhood home. It had been six long years since I had stepped foot into this place.

After Cillian told me about what had happened with my parents I forgave him, and we finally got together. My parents position however remained unchanged, and so we started meeting up in secret. The old bridge by the canal became our place. Here we laughed, cried, and vowed that we would never let society’s judgement taint our love. Sometimes I would wait for hours for him when he couldn’t make it… and he’d wait for me if my family kept me in. It was hard, but we were too in love to care. It was clear that he was the only one for me, and I was the only one for him. I didn’t care about his family’s business or the danger our love could put me in, all I cared about was him. As our love grew, we decided to tear off the patch and tell my parents about our relationship and that we were serious about each other.

They weren’t pleased with the news, to be honest, they were furious. They have had their own plans for my life, and we put a spoke in their wheel. My parents told me to break it off and that I wasn’t thinking straight, but we didn’t budge, and they gave me an ultimatum: I’d either leave Cillian or the family. Well, on the very same evening I packed up, moved into the O’Connor house, and stayed with them henceforward.

Some days, I found myself in front of the house I grew up in, hoping to somehow convince my parents, but they never even opened the door. So, after some time, I gave up, and stopped going and have seen neither my father nor my mother since then.

As I park the car, my heart races with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. I was going to have dinner with my parents, something I would have never expected if you had asked me a month ago.

Taking a deep breath, I climb out of the car and make my way to the front door. My fingers tremble slightly as I ring the doorbell, the chime echoes through the quiet evening air.

The door swings open, revealing my mother, her eyes widening in surprise as she looks at me.