Saint Paul Hospital, London.

Today Eddie appeared to help us. He said he was used to working and didn't feel comfortable just staying at home like this. We are currently at an abandoned old hospital, where soldiers without families can recuperate. The hospitals are overloaded, both in terms of space and manpower, and we are one of the few hopes this country has left.

I admire Landry, and Eddie as well, but I can't think in a composed and focused manner when I'm near them. I can't hide the burning flame of envy slowly corroding me as I witness the radiant light of their blissful union. I feel lost amidst a sea of people who need my assistance because this body, this soul, also needs saving. A glance, a gesture, a gentle touch between the couple is enough to make me tremble. I long for that too. I crave a look, a hand to hold, or a caress upon my bare skin. I yearn for more than my own touch. I want to feel him. All that I desire seems so simple, yet I can't attain it.

"Are you alright, Fiona?"

Landry seems to have noticed the sadness on my face, immediately abandoning the bandages she was holding and stepping closer to inquire. The groans of the wounded veterans echoing throughout the room only worsen my mood. I can't concentrate on my work when my mind is distracted by so many factors. I respond curtly to Landry's concern:

"It's nothing..."

I brush Landry's worry aside and continue working. I hold a glass vial containing alcohol in my hand, preparing to cleanse the soldier's wounds. Whether it's due to exhaustion or the grotesque nature of the injuries that has twisted my mind, I keep forgetting the proper sequence of actions. I forget to clean my hands before grabbing the tools, so I have to set them down and sanitise my hands. I become clumsy with tasks that I used to perform daily. I resemble a foolish apprentice. To make matters worse, as I turn around, I accidentally knock over the vial, causing it to shatter. And as I attempt to clean up the broken pieces, my hand gets cut by the glass, causing it to bleed. Landry knows that something has happened to me, so she pulls me aside and bandages the wound. It's ironic that I volunteered to help others, yet now I'm the one being rescued.

"Is it because of me and Eddie?"

Landry asks as she ties the final knot of the bandage. I bow my head, too ashamed to face Landry at this moment. The two of us women sit on a bench outside the abandoned hospital, gently gazing at the fluttering Union Jack flags adorning the houses along the street. I let out a long sigh and reply, "I think this work keeps me busy enough to forget those emotions... Landry, I feel so lonely."

"He is still..."

"Still safe and sound," I quickly wipe away a tear. "I ask my younger brother, who is also in the war, to inquire about him. Yet, he never sends a letter in response to me."

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"I don't know anymore, Fiona..." Landry hesitates, trying to find the right words to advise me. "Do you still hold hope for this affection?"

"Perhaps I lose the final chance," I choke out. "Before he leaves, he asks me if I love him. But I say no, twice. Fear overcomes me, Landry. How can I expect him to still love me after all that happens?"

"Fiona, I may not understand what you're going through or the dynamics between the two of you. But the only thing I know is that you will never have the right answer if you continue to speculate about what the other person will say."

Landry tightens her grip on my hand as if to reinforce the strength of her advice. I fall silent for a moment, contemplating her words, and realise that Landry is right. Maybe Andermis wants me to speak directly to him, face to face, uttering every word I can't say before. Yet, I can't explain why he doesn't come home on Christmas two years ago. I suddenly think of that moment. I wonder if, had I answered truthfully back then, how do things unfold? Andermis still has to go away, and I still have to stay here with this role, as a married woman with children. The entire storyline plays out just like this reality, with the only difference being that both of us have the motivation to move forward. He is my companion ship, and I am his guiding lighthouse. In this reality, I'm just an empty pier, while he loses his helm.

A shrill horn resounds, and another vehicle approaches from the front lines, but to my surprise, it doesn't stop at the hospital. In a daze, my gaze gets lost on the deep green vehicle as it rolls past us. The back of the vehicle is open, and the desolate faces of the soldiers appear before me, hauntingly. But above all, I recognize a familiar face among them. Despite the vast distance, I can still see those blue eyes and thick eyebrows. It's a mark I haven't seen in so long, yet it doesn't confuse me. I know who sits in that vehicle, even though he can't see me. My heart pounds incessantly as reason tries to keep me calm. My mind tells me it could be anyone in this world, while my stubborn heart insists on defending its belief. I shake my head, discarding everything that suggests it might not be the person I've longed to meet. I will curse myself if it's not him!

I leave Landry to her own excitement. I barely manage to bid her farewell and reassure her that I'll be fine, then hastily run to my bicycle. I have to chase after that vehicle, whether it takes me to the farthest reaches of England or to the German battleground. I chase after the vehicle, and of course, there's no way my bicycle can catch up. I resign myself to following the faint tire tracks left on the road, and my heart fills with hope as they all lead to my home. It's him! It must be Andermis! Perhaps God has finally heard my prayers!

I don't know how long I've been running or at what speed. I've traversed this road in the morning, but I don't know why it now feels so distant! I can feel my legs giving way, but I can't allow myself to slow down. My mind automatically conjures up visions of when he and I meet again. What will I say to him? But I know that before that, I will run to embrace him and passionately kiss those lips. I accept becoming a dishevelled, wretched, or lustful woman. I just want to feel his lips after longing for them for so long.

A "clank" sound resonates, and both pedals suddenly go numb. I stagger to a stop, but it's futile as it sped away too quickly. The bicycle chain has snapped, and when I tightly squeeze the brakes to halt, it loses momentum, and both the bicycle and I tumble onto the road. My knees scrape against the ground, and blood seeps through the white fabric. But that doesn't concern me as much as the fact that the bicycle has vanished from my sight. I helplessly watch the wheel continue spinning a few more times before coming to a complete stop. With no other option, I leave the bicycle behind and run straight back home on my own two feet. I won't let anything hinder my path to him anymore. I don't want to squander this fragile opportunity, one that may never return. Each house runs backward, and hope grows within my heart. Just a little longer, the boat will reach the shore, and the ship will behold the lighthouse.