The next morning.

"I feel terrible for Madilynn. I don't know if she can overcome it anymore!"

Landry said to me as we walked along the street. I pedalled my bike in a heavy-hearted mood after visiting the wretched Madilynn with Landry. That elderly woman now had to face the reality that her sons had sacrificed themselves under the enemy's gunfire, and her home had become colder than ever. When we visited her in the morning, Madilynn was no different than a lifeless corpse, with only a small flicker of life clinging to her painful reality. Madilynn's pain instantly spread to those who came to visit like us. Five of her sons had perished, and the only thing this society, or more accurately, we could do, was to send a few pastries, some clothing, and a little money.

"We have lost too much in this senseless war," I muttered, expressing my disgust. "They should die without anyone remembering their names, while glory belongs to those above, always pointing their five fingers!"

Both of us sighed and continued walking. The sound of footsteps on the gravel echoed crisply in the late autumn, as if time were reversing back to the intoxicating summer. We decided to pause and sit on a wooden bench by the roadside. I handed Landry a piece of cake I took from the kitchen. It was Lady Patmore's renowned cream horn, one of the few indulgences I cherished. But Landry's mood was surprisingly heavy. She tightly grasped her icy cold hand and concernedly asked, "What's wrong?"

"I thought I was ready, Fiona..." Landry's voice trembled with fragmented pauses. "I never imagined today's scene would be so dreadful!"

"About Madilynn?" I empathetically asked.

"About me… Every day, I pray. When I wake up in the morning, at every meal, and by the bedside before sleep, I always earnestly implore the saintly compassionate. But now, I'm filled with overwhelming fear. What if Eddie also departs? How would I cope?"

Landry's tears fell freely onto my hand. Like sharp needles piercing through my own flesh, I felt the agonising torment of this young wife. Landry is just the same age as my younger sister, Diana. Looking at this sorrowful girl, the instinct of an elder sister in me could not rest. I embraced Landry, gently patting her back as I would with my own siblings. Tenderly, I reassured her, "Eddie will be fine, Landry. He will come back to you."

"Madilynn's sons made the same promise to her..." Landry sobbed. "I don't know, Fiona. I don't know if I can face this life alone."

I pause for a moment, not knowing what to say. I can see Landry trapped in her own mind, just as I once was. The self-questioning, the unease, and the deep-seated longing slowly engulf me at some point. I can't let another person endure the same fate as I do. Landry has a beautiful relationship with Eddie, and both of them deserve a happy ending.

I release my grip on Landry, then close my eyes, taking slow breaths. I want to listen to the vibrations of everything around me. The leaves fall gently. The beetles diligently sculpt sand. The water ripples and crashes against the shore. I open my eyes and look ahead. I discover a red-roofed house that I don't recall being there before, but I smile with contentment. Like a bird realising its blessing is to sing in the early morning, I slowly begin to recount my life to a stranger. If I can't be a performer, stories will be my legacy in this life.

"Before I am married into the Morten family, I am a young lady from a grand estate in the southern lands of England," my storytelling voice grows deep and slow. A wave of reminiscence suddenly rushes in. "There is a young man, the son of the estate's steward, who grows up alongside us. Time passes, and I don't even know when I fall in love with him."

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Landry sits silently, listening to the story like an enthralled audience member in the theatre, watching the actors on stage. I have never uttered a word to anyone about this, believing that every confession will haunt me like a theatre phantom. I think I will be too pained to share this story with anyone. But now, I only feel a gentle sense of relief. No burden, no perplexity. On the contrary, I feel the need to speak more than ever.

"I am a devout Catholic, Landry, and from birth to becoming a woman, faith is always my top priority. But you know what? My love for him grows so immensely that I am willing to defy all conventions and make a solemn vow to him. I can't imagine how my life would be if I lived apart from him."

"But you ultimately lived apart from your love?" Landry inquires softly.

"I thought it was necessary, a last resort to salvage my family," I speak with a disappointed and regretful expression. "From the very beginning, our family doesn't need saving; it is all in my own mind."

"And what happens to that man of yours?"

"He's dead, resting deep beneath the ocean floor. I don't even know he has departed, and I don't have the chance to bid him farewell."

Every word I utter resonates as if reminding me not to forget my own past. Though I have pondered relentlessly, it hasn't absolved me of my mistakes, and now the punishment is that I must remember them for the rest of my life. That is why I cannot let this innocent girl fall into the same pit as I did in the past.

"Why do you tell me these stories?" Landry gazes at me with an incredulous expression. "Won't it affect your reputation?"

"Because I don't want you to be consumed by fear, Landry," I tightly grasp the slender hand of the young girl. "My fears about my inheritance, about him leaving me, about status, virtue, responsibility... they have all destroyed everything I tried to preserve. I would curse myself if you were to experience something similar."

Landry remains silent, stringing together the entire story, but her face loses some of its anxiety. Landry raises her head to look at me, with a saintly and tender countenance, her lips as delicate as the pale hue of dragonfly wings. She softly asks, "Are all these things true?"

"Yes," I affirm with a nod. "I wish things could have been different, but I still exist after all that has happened."

"I just miss him too much, Fiona. I can't help but yearn for him!" Landry laments.

"Then never let that love cease beating. Love him, hope for him, and in whatever way, live for him," I declare resolutely.

The words flow forth, and they sound passionate, but ultimately they become laughable. It is always easier to advise someone when standing from a third-person perspective, yet I remain blinded when the story revolves around myself. Time passes, my age grows, yet this mind remains the same as before, learning nothing. Memories resurface vividly as if someone maliciously stirs them up. Enzo is gone. Augustin is gone. And now Andermis is gone too...

I suddenly burst into bitter laughter. Tears fall onto the crumbs of bread scattered on my dress.

"It's truly ironic, here I am talking to you about overcoming my fears. Yet once again, I pushed the person I love away because of them..."

Landry unexpectedly takes hold of my hand. Both of us gaze towards the distant horizon. The western sky is ablaze. Pigeons vie for the leftover bread crumbs on the pavement. The flapping of wings stirs invisible particles in the air. People pass by without looking at one another, brushing past like a passing breeze. Bicycle wheels roll steadily. Clumps of grass tumble aimlessly, carried by the autumn wind. Everything feels desolate.

"He's not your husband, is he?"

I suddenly hear Francine's weeping voice whispering in my ear. The wedding vows come alive again without anyone asking for them. The wedding ring glimmers in the slanted sunlight. Everything feels hollow.

"Yes…" I reply gently. "He's someone else."