And again.
Every word written in her father’s neat, strong hand felt heavier now.
He had loved her mother.
She could see that clearly in the way he’d written. In the promises he’d made.
He hadn’t been a villain then.
Just a man.
A man caught between two worlds, two lives, two impossible choices.
Maybe her mother had been too proud to tell him about the baby. Maybe he'd been too married to his old life to chase a new one.
Either way, the end result had been the same:
She grew up fatherless.
Her mother carried that loneliness across an entire ocean.
The ache in her chest sharpened.
It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.
Setting the letter down, she picked up the small box and cradled the ring in her palm. The diamond caught the fading light and sparkled, delicate and fierce.
Was this what love looked like once? A promise made and broken by distance and time?
Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away.
No.
Not tonight.
Tonight, she wasn’t that abandoned little girl wondering why her father never showed up. Tonight, she was Aisling O'Byrne, the woman who had survived every storm thrown her way. The woman who was still standing. Stronger than ever.
She tightened her fingers around the ring for a moment, drawing strength from the cold weight of it.
When she saw him standing in the kitchen earlier, older, grayer, uncertain, she’d wanted to screamget out. She still wanted to, a little. But that would not have given her the answers she needed.
But she couldn’t ignore what Bríd had said:"You don’t have to let him all the way in. But you can listen. Sometimes listening is the bravest thing we do."
Maybe tonight wasn’t the night for forgiveness. Maybe not even tomorrow.
But maybe it could be the beginning of something.
A slow breath left her lungs.
She picked up the letter again, folded it carefully, and tucked it away in the small tin box.
Then she stood, facing the old mirror over the fireplace.
Her reflection looked back, hair wild, face tear-streaked, but eyes fierce.
"I'll hear you out," she whispered to no one. "Not for you. Not even for her. But for me."
Because some stories deserved an ending.
