Milo shrugs. “Because I see how you look at her. The way Father looks at Mother. He risked everything for her and she did for him. You’ll do the same. The question is, will she?” He claps my shoulder and smiles. “If the answer’s yes, I’ll fight beside you.”
He leaves. I sit there for a beat, then shower and head for the roof.
The wind cuts sharper tonight.Cold. Mean. The clouds churn like something alive, and the lighthouse cuts through the dark like a blade.
Something’s off.
Aoife sits on the ledge like part of the storm. Arms wrapped tight around herself. Wind tearing through her hair. She looks carved from heartbreak.
“Don’t jump yet, little lamb.” My voice cuts through the wind. She doesn’t turn.
I move closer. She’s too still. My gut twists, something’s wrong.
She glances down, and that’s when I see the tears.
I don’t even think, I jump up onto the ledge and stand next to her. Fuck that winds got a bite to it tonight.
“What’s wrong?” My voice softens. She’s already breaking, and I won’t add to it.
She doesn’t answer right away. Just breathes. Shallow and hard. I wait for her to speak, or not.
“My life’s not mine.” The words tear out of her. “My parents didn’t want a daughter. They wanted a deal. A chess piece to trade into the right marriage. Every part of my life’s been written in backroom deals and signed by men who never loved me.”
My hands clench. She’s still talking, spilling truths she’s never said out loud, but the sounds of it. Her voice sounds like confession and surrender all at once.
Her voice shakes but doesn’t stop. “My mother taught me to be polite. Obedient. My father taught me to keep secrets. Liam taught me to kneel.”
A bitter laugh breaks out. “Now they want to rush the wedding. Because an engagement isn’t enough. Because nothing ever fucking is.” Lightning cracks above. “I can’t breathe, Matteo. Every day it closes tighter. This cage. Everyone thinks it’s gold, so they expect me to smile.” She turns. Eyes wide. Voice shaking. “I don’t want to marry him.”
“You shouldn’t have to.” The words leave before I can stop them.
“I was made for it,” she whispers. “Not born. Made.”
Something in me cracks. I know that cage, that weight of legacy. My family built one too, only they left the door open.
I take her hand. It trembles, but she doesn’t pull away. The sea hammers the rocks below. We stand there, two ghosts on a ledge.
“The man I want, I can’t have. And the more I’m near him, the more I hate the space between us.”
“You’re not a pawn, Aoife,” I say. “You’re the fire on the board, the kind which burns both sides.”
She looks up. Her lips tremble. Then she leans in, pressing her forehead against my chest.
“I wish I could believe that,” she whispers.
“You don’t have to,” I say. “I’ll believe it for both of us.”
The world falls away. The storm. The waves.
Just us, caught in the in-between.
Wanting the same thing, terrified of the war it’ll start.
Incense hangsheavy in the air, clinging to the rafters like old secrets. The church is full of them.
We’re back at Hollow Edge for the weekend. Mass comes first. Mother’s rule.
Granddad preaches at the altar, a room full of sinners dressed in power and guilt before him. My brothers flank me in the front pew.
