For our daughter.
Our love is too perfect to die with our bodies and we have proven that time and time again.
Ester is playing with her blocks on the floor as I write this. She misses you. I miss you. You always leave me this tiny, perfect, curly haired piece of yourself, as if knowing I need a purpose to live. If it wasn’t for her, I don’t think I could go on without you.
I don’t want to finish this letter. I don’t want to say goodbye and I am sure you would be laughing at how long it has taken me to write through my tears.
I promise you, my love, with every single ounce of my being.
We will be together again.
Like your memory, our love is eternal and so very precious.
Until we meet again.
I love you.
Alastar
xxx
* * *
With shaking hands, I hold the letter as the tears pool in my eyes. I put my hands over my mouth in shock. Oh my God.
He was trying to save me.
He kept saying he was trying to protect me. I close my eyes as the final piece of the puzzle clicks in. Brielle was right. He wasn’t telling me the whole story.
He is still protecting me by not telling me about this curse. He doesn’t want me to be scared of dying even though he is petrified. I sit back on the bed as a clear as day memory comes to the forefront of my mind, and I frown, the pain too much to bear.
* * *
I lie somewhere between life and death in my hospital bed. Alastar and Ester are in the room with me. I have fought this illness with everything that I had, but it wasn’t enough.
I can’t win this battle.
The room is silent and Alastar gently pushes my hair back from my forehead and smiles softly.
I need to say this.
“You are a brave man, Alastar O’Shea, for loving me.”
He smiles.
“You knew, didn’t you?” I whisper.
“Shh, love.” He bends and gently kisses my forehead.
“I tried, I’m sorry. I tried my hardest to beat this. To stay with you,” I whisper.
His face screws up in pain and his eyes fill with tears. “To spend one day in your arms was worth it,” he whispers.
The tears fill my eyes and I frown knowing it’s time.
“Alastar, get Ester.” I hold my hand for him to bring her up to the bed.
He screws up his face and bends to pick up his daughter who is playing on the floor. Our little girl with the blonde ringlets and the large blue eyes. He sits her on the bed next to me and she leans over and squeals in delight as she grips my face.
“I love you, baby,” I whisper.
She gargles and laughs in joy, and I smile at the happiness she holds within her. She’s a true gift in life.
My eyes rise to my beautiful, broken Alastar. Tears stream down his face. He is inconsolable. “Take care of Daddy,” I whisper to Ester. “I love you, baby. Mummy loves you very much. I have written letters for you and Daddy will give them to you on your birthday each year.” She continues her happy playing on the bed with her blocks.
I hold my hand out for Alastar and he brings his head down to mine, our foreheads touch. “I love you,” he whispers through his tears.
I close my eyes in pain. “I love you, too.” I run my fingers through his stubble one last time.
He sobs loudly.
“Find me, Alastar,” I whisper.
“I will. You know I will.” He smiles into the side of my face. “We get to do this again, baby. Our love will never be over,” he whispers.
I strain a smile. “Yes,” I murmur as I feel myself losing consciousness. “Find me, Alastar,” I breathe.
And to the sound of his soft sobs in the silence, I turn and walk toward the light.
* * *
A gunshot rings out and I jump with a start.
Holy fuck.
I pant as I try to control my erratic heartbeat.
Did that just happen? How did I just remember that?
He knew,
All along he knew.
I put both of my hands over my mouth so I don’t cry out loud.
Alastar loses me in every life.
I die young.
In every life.
He didn’t push me away to give me a choice, he pushed me away to try and save my life.
Oh God.
My heart hurts.
This man, this beautiful man who I love with all of my heart, finds me and loves me… even though he knows what pain he is going to put himself through by doing so. My mind goes back to his painting that he won the award for.
Beware lest you lose the substance by grasping at the shadow. By Aesop.
Beware lest you lose the substance by grasping at the shadow…
Beware lest you lose the substance by grasping at the shadow…
That sentence has just taken on a whole new meaning. The shadow is my death. He had been focusing on my death and he had lost sight of the substance. Me.
Oh, my poor Alastar. My poor darling man. He hasn’t told me because he hasn’t wanted me to live in this shadow. The fear of dying.
He is still protecting me.