He glanced over his shoulder, his heart beating wildly, painfully aware that he was the only man whoâd gotten off the train that day. He knew some men had already made the journey home, and others would arrive over the next few days, but he was very conscious that most of the men who had left their village on the same fateful day he had, would not be returning home.
Steadily, he looked forward once more, and took a step into his new life.
It didnât quite feel real for him, that the war was really over. The last time heâd been home was five years earlier, and in those five years, heâd lost more friends, become a Major General, and grown so accustom to his life out on the battlefield.
And what stirred him the most, was the different feelings that dazed him getting off the train, compared to the ones that last greeted him on that platform.
Finally, he felt somewhat proud of what heâd achieved. He felt as though heâd done himself, his country, and his father proud. The war had never been what he thought it would be, but as heâd aged, and learnt, he grew to accept it, and grew in himself because of it.
He couldnât believe how much heâd changed. He felt as though heâd shifted from boy to man, not just in himself but even his broad frame, his height, and even the weak facial hair heâd acquired of recent.
He felt different.
But he felt good.
He had no plans to ever leave that tiny village again.
With one final deep inhale, he moved forward, glancing around the empty area before he walked through the station.
Thatâs when he saw her, waiting through the opposite doors at the other side of the station.
His mother.
She barely ever left the house. In fact, Alex couldnât really recall the last time heâd seen her go further than their front path for years, and the lack of sunlight and socialising was clear upon her body. She was frail, her weak figure looking as though the soft winds could knock her off her feet.
But it was all worth it, to see her son finally return home. Sheâd never worked up the courage to see him off.
Having her there was a pleasant surprise.
With a giant smile on his face, he moved to her, bending the distance and wrapping his arms around her, feeling her feebly attempt to return the gesture, but the years had not been kind to her. Alex hoped that now he was home, it would heal a part of her. She could finally begin to recover from the fact that her husband had never come back from the first war. She could finally learn to be around people and accept love once again. He hoped her body and mind and soul would strengthen.
He pulled away, clutching his hand at her cheek, nodding, like that small action was the true confirmation that he was back.
âYouâre really home.â She whispered.
âIâm really home.â
âYouâve done us so proud, Alex.â
His lips twitched as his bashful smile strained to take heed, but it was only seconds later that he found himself looking around the area, disheartened that they were alone.
There was no use in asking his mother if she knew the whereabouts of Evelyn. She was too disassociated from the rest of their village to have a clue.
The war had ended only days earlier. He had expected Evelyn to be there checking every single train that arrived at the station, just as she had five years earlier. He had been hopelessly desperate for her to be there, welcoming him home with open arms, a gentle kiss, and a loving heart.
But she was nowhere to be seen.
He tried not to seem too disappointed, plastering on a smile for his motherâs sake as he took his eyes back to her, holding back tears.
âCâmon.â He encouraged. âShall we go home?â
She nodded, and gripped nervously onto his arm, as though she needed the support, like she couldnât walk without him.
They trailed slowly, stood as close as they could be without hindering their movements entirely, Alex towering her as they began their journey home.
He took in the sights and miniature sounds that surrounded the two of them as they travelled, and somehow, it was eerily quiet, in a way that felt almost uncomfortable for him. To experience a silence he knew would last, where enemies were not looming around each corner, and he knew that bombs were not threatening to drop over his head at any given moment.
It was unfamiliar, and he tried to welcome it, but it wasnât necessarily easy.
Especially without Evelyn.
She had brought him home, the last time heâd been there. She had made him feel safe and welcomed, and he craved that feeling again.
He kept scanning the area with his eyes as they walked, his mother mumbling away to herself about what they should eat that evening, how they should celebrate his return, but he continued searching around himself as though he had somehow missed her with each previous look.
But she wasnât there.
Alex couldnât understand why. All he could do, was fear the reasons for her not being there to bring him home.
The majority of the walk home was spent in silence.
- The losses were heavy, but all ranks would willingly undertake another operation under similar conditionsâŠWe have no regrets. -
Still in his uniform, and now wearing his cap proudly on the top of his head, Alex approached Evelynâs house.
The building seemed warm to him as he neared, smiling up towards her bedroom window, and he felt so nervous about being there. He was having to concentrate on the steady rise and fall of his chest, repeatedly tapping his middle finger against his thumb as he slowly approached her home. Heâd never felt so viciously overwhelmed by his own heart. In all his years at war, the beating thing had never been so vivid and palpable in the way it was then.
He reached her front door, and took a few moments. He composed himself, as much as he was able, closing his eyes and rolling his shoulders just once, whispering words of encouragement.
Then he raised his hand, and knocked.
He heard some shambling coming from indoors almost immediately, shuffling footsteps moving closer and closer to him.
His heart was in his throat by the time her father swung the door open.
Alex reached up, taking the hat off his head and holding it to his chest, nodding his head in respect before he spoke.
âGood afternoon, sir. Iâve come to-â
The door was slammed in his face.
His nerves were promptly replaced with frustration, glaring at the closed door and hearing the locks go, questioning what was happening, because it didnât quite commute.
Unsure what else to do, he knocked again, a little more aggressively this time around.
No answer. No acknowledgement of his presence.
So he just kept knocking. He couldnât be rid of that easily.
âPlease open the door.â He called, ignoring the few passer-byâs who stared at him. âI want to see her! Please open the door.â
He must have been knocking for a good minute or so before Evelynâs father caved and opened the door once more, cracking it open just slightly, glaring at him through the small space available.
âAlex, go home!â The feeble man ordered.
âSheâs my home!â He bit back. âI want to see her!â
âWell she doesnât want to see you.â
He tried to slam the door once again, but Alex jammed his foot in so that he couldnât, moving his face closer still.
âYouâre lying!â He growled. âPlease let me in. I want to see her. I need to see her. Sir, I want to marry her! I want-â
âAlex, I wonât ask you again. Leave.â
âNo! If you would just let me⊠talk to her.â He was becoming desperate and weak with each failed attempt to get inside. âI know sheâs in there and I want-â
âYou are not welcome here anymore, Alex. Go home!â
Reluctantly, he withdrew his extended limb, and the second he had, the door was closed completely once more.
He stood there for a while, breathless, trying to make sense of what had just happened, but he couldnât.
He didnât understand why she didnât want to see him. He was panicking, that maybe sheâd met someone else since he was last there, but if that was true, he deserved an explanation. She must have known heâd survived the war, because flowers had never been laid upon his house. She must have known he would want to see her, that his heart would never sway from her.
After years battling to get back to her, he deserved answers, but all he was receiving was further questions.
Alex had always been aware that her father had never been his biggest fan, and maybe that was partly the reason he had kept his uniform on. Evelynâs father had fought in the first war, and wanted desperately to fight in the second, but couldnât. He was patriotic, and Alex knew that seeing him there, with his cap and his badges, maybe he would have warmed to him. Heâd grown and matured so much over the years, and he still wanted Evelyn. Forever. That stood for something. Her father must have been able to see that.
Finally, he turned on his heel, walking away from her home as more questions and possible scenarios thrived in his mind, each as painful and infuriating as the last.
He placed his cap back on his head, and went home, hoping that a good nightâs rest would help him find a solution to a problem he didnât fully understand.
- In war: resolution. In defeat: defiance. In victory: magnanimity. In peace: goodwill. -
The nights sky was much brighter than Alex had been able to appreciate in his years at war. The stars were beautiful, scattered and twinkling above his head as he crouched on the floor outside her home, gazing upwards to the glistening orbs with a tender smile on his face.
He had missed the stars.
He always thought the war would change him in that he would become the sort of person who appreciated every small thing around him, the beauty of the earth in its natural form, but it hadnât worked that way. His existence had been so terrifying and hectic for the last six years, that he barely had the time to note the wonderful glitters that mother nature created around him.
He was finally in a place where he could appreciate those small things, and yet they all seemed so irrelevant with the larger aspects of his life were not falling into place in the way he had been praying they would; in the way he had been expecting they would.
Down on one knee, and gripping a stone in his right hand, he stared up to her bedroom window.
His mind had been working in overdrive as he lay in bed, and no matter how hard heâd tried, he couldnât sleep. Every fear and doubt and query heâd had grew as the evening darkened, and he knew he couldnât sleep.
So as he had done many times before, heâd gone to her house in the middle of the night.
He looked up to the window, waiting for some sign of life from her. It was late, but not too late, and he knew she often struggled sleeping, too. Sheâd find a book and immerse herself in foreign worlds until sleep crept upon her.
He sometimes forgot just how well he knew her.
So he waited. He must have been there for just under and hour, awaiting some movement.
âCâmon.â He whispered to himself. âTurn the light on, Eve. Prove me to youâre still there. Please.â
He hoped she was just sleeping, that her body had pulled her into slumber and that was why he had seen no movement from her room, but he was starting to doubt himself.
He was worried, really. As far as he knew, there had been no raids on their village, but he didnât have any definitive proof of her safety, and he needed some. He truly needed some.
He'd met so many people who had lost their life during the war, in various ways. Heâd seen people die, watched the life drain from peopleâs eyes. Heâd lost so many friends that somehow, death itself was an acquaintance. At this stage, he almost expected its greedy hands to snatch the people loved from him. It was what he was used to.
He just hadnât expected it to take her. He hadnât let himself even considerate it.
He dropped the stone from his hand, the one heâd been hopefully clutching since he arrived almost an hour earlier, wanting to throw it at her window and take her down to the river. Maybe heâd propose to her there. He wasnât sure.
But after waiting so long, all he really wanted, was some sign of life.
He looked to the floor, not wanting to lose hope so easily but also doubting that life could dose him with so much luck and kindness after being fortunate enough to survive six years at war. He knew stronger men who had perished years earlier than they should. Maybe his luck had run out. Maybe she was what had to be taken from him to even the score.
She would be his greatest loss.
He looked back up, shaking his head and thinking that he would try again in the morning. He would return to her house in the morning and he would get in there, even if he did have to put up a fight. A definite answer was the one thing less painful, no matter what the answer was.
It was then, that her bedroom light turned on.
He couldnât quite fathom it, really. His eyes went wide and his heart stopped beating for a moment as he stared upwards, his lips parted, the cold air causing his breath to transform into a soft steam that poured from his dry mouth.
âYouâre alive.â He whispered.
He picked the stone back up again and got to his feet, storming a little closer to the house before throwing it so that it tapped sweetly against her windowpane.
He crouched down quickly to retrieve another, lobbing it and hitting the glass once more, a smile growing across his lips.
The light was turned off after the second throw.
With his brows low, he swallowed thickly, wetting his lips and knowing that tonight was not the night they were to rekindle. She was purposefully ignoring him, and although that stung, he felt as though he had enough proof that she was at least alive, that he could sleep somewhat peacefully.
If she had met someone, it was something that Alex would have to accept. If she had met someone, at least she was happy, healthy, and he could watch her form a new life from afar, and try to be happy for her. He would try to accept that her life no longer included him.
He would take that option any day, over her being dead.
He finally began to distance, his heart finally beating at a regular pace as he walked home, soothed slightly.
For the evening, that was enough.
He had done all he could.
- Soldiers and war heroes are honoured and commemorated, explorers are granted immortal fame, martyrs are revered, but how many people look upon women too as soldiers? -
âI wish I had something to offer you,â Alex explained nervously, unable to lift his head to face them fully. âMaybe⊠money, or⊠something of his that you couldâŠkeep, but, I donât. And Iâm sorry. I donât really know why Iâm here.â
He was sat in an armchair ahead of Richards parents, who were stood side by side, merely staring at him.
He didnât know what to say. It had been five years since they lost him, but Alex hadnât been able to stomach seeing them the last time he was home. It was too soon, then. He hadnât been able to find the courage. He took that fortnight and immersed himself in Evelyn, because that was the easier option, and it helped it him to heal.
Five years, and heâd finally worked up the strength to see the grieving parents of his best friend.
Of course, the years had helped to heal the wounds that the loss of their son had left, but seeing Alex home, in a way, brought back some of the pain they had felt when they first received the telegram confirming Richards death. Yet somehow, it was a good pain, a welcomed one, almost as though they could finally make their peace with his death. Alex had always been by Richards side, throughout nursery and school and up until they went off to war together, and having Alex come home, felt like having a part of Richard home.
It was the exact closure they needed.
Alex felt lost ahead of them, knowing he needed to see them, but convinced he was only making them feel worse, when actually, he was the exact remedy they had needed.
âWe donât want anything from you, Alex.â Richards mother replied through a slim smile. âWeâre just glad to have you home.â
âMâso sorry I didnât come to see you last time I was back, but⊠I⊠I didnât know until I was here and⊠I guess I couldnât face it. Not that Iâm⊠handling this well now, but⊠I just wanted to tell you Iâm sorry.â He finally lifted his vision to gaze at them, seeing the way they held hands, supported each other silently. A vision of Eve shot into his head almost instantly.
âYou have nothing to be sorry for.â Richard Sr. agreed quietly with his wife. âWe understood it would be difficult for you. You two were always like brothers.â
âWeâd like you to come around more.â The timid woman requested. âWe want to see more of you⊠now that youâre home.â
âIâd like that.â Alex finally managed a smile.
âYou can stay now, if youâd like? Weâre about to make some dinner, if youâd like to eat with us.â
âIâd love to, but⊠thereâs something else I need to do before I lose my nerve.â He got back up to his feet. âBut, thank you. Iâll be back soon, I promise.â
They both nodded shyly and saw him out, truly hoping that he would keep his word and return to see them soon, and maybe feel more comfortable around them then.
But there was one thing preventing Alex from feeling comfortable at all, and that was why he was heading over to Evelynâs house once again, and this time, he was going to make sure he got inside.
He bid Richards parents farewell, and then set off towards her home, hoping he could regain his courage on the short journey. Questions of their foundations still attacked his mind rather viciously, and he knew that his body and soul would not rest until he had answers, and it had to happen soon. Only a day had gone by since his initial attempts to see her, and it was slowly driving him insane. Things didnât feel right without her. Home didnât feel like home without her. He wasnât quite whole without her.
On the way to her house, he noticed that the shop her father owned was closed, which lead him to believe she was definitely at home. He was hoping sincerely that he wouldnât have to put up too much of a fight to see her, but after what had happened the day previous, he didnât see it running smoothly.
He snapped his braces against his white shirt nervously, the bottom of his long, high-waisted pants collecting dust with each step he took, the clouds above his head ominously gathering, collecting droplets to soon fall on his head.
He mood and his hopes were dropping by the minute.
When her home once again came into view, that was when he began uttering quiet words of encouragement to himself. Heâd been nervous the day before, but he had still thought he would see her, and finally start building a life with her. This time around, there was so much uncertainty, and he truly had no idea what the outcome would be.
His skull was throbbing by the time he reached her front door, lolling his head towards the floor and refusing to look at his hand as he reached upwards and knocked, cursing under his breath and gripping his eyes shut tightly.
Evelynâs father answered the door as though he had just been waiting for him to appear and attempt seeing his daughter once again, Alex hesitantly lifting his head, his confidence almost completely gone.
âI think I made myself clear yesterday.â Her father reiterated.
âAnd I donât think I made myself clear enough.â Alex choked. âI need to see her.â
âWell, she does not want to see you.â
âYouâre lying to me. I know you are, but I just donât understand why.â His desperation ached his tone. âAnd⊠I need you to understand that⊠if sheâs moved on, I can accept that. I wonât⊠fight, and I wonât be angry. I just want to know! I just want answers! Thatâs⊠all Iâm asking for at this point. So please⊠Please let me see her.â
There wasnât even a glimmer of weakness in the mans eyes. There didnât even seem to be a second where he caved, or thought about Alexâs feelings.
His rejection came quickly, and it stung.
âYouâre not coming in, Alex. Youâre not welcome. So stop asking questions and stop coming round here. Forget about her. Goodbye.â
Alex saw it coming, his attempts to slam the door in his face once again, and he wouldnât allow it.
Instead of just jamming his foot in there, he threw his whole body forward, half indoors, his anger building.
âI will be back here every damn day.â He fumed. âI will keep coming back. Iâve been fighting to get back to her for six years, and youâre not going to be the thing that stops me. I will keep fighting for her. So you may as well let me see her now, because I will never give up on her, unless she asks me to.â
He could tell he was just about to face more refusal. He could tell that he was going to have to put more of a fight. He could feel himself getting painfully overwhelmed, and he could feel that he was just about to snap.
And thatâs when he heard a gentle voice calling from the other room.
âDad, let him in.â
He'd remembered her voice perfectly, and throughout his years at war, that exact tone had been a remedy that helped him to sleep on certain nights, called to him and soothed him and calmed him during truly trying times.
But actually hearing her voice again felt otherworldly. His eyes widened, his heart stopped beating, his head whipping to the direction her sweet voice had travelled from.
âEve.â He whispered, his chest coming back to life.
âEvelyn, I thought-â Her father tried.
âI know, but⊠Just let him in.â
He finally stepped aside, Alex grabbing at the opportunity and dashing indoors before either of them changed their minds and forced him back onto the street.
He sped into their living room, coming to an immediate standstill as soon as she was in his vision, and for a while, everything stopped. Everything surrounding them. Every beat of his heart. Every mundane and vital function of his body halted for a while as he took in the woman ahead of him.
She was sat on a dark red armchair, refusing to look to him, head down, hands clasped together.
Her entire right leg was missing.
His eyes kept tracing over her, up and down frantically as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing, but it didnât quite commute at first. Nothing sunk in, until she lifted her head.
A deep scar crawled upwards from beneath her blouse, snaking up her neck and past her chin and coming to a stop just beneath her right eye.
He stayed still, breathlessly gazing down to her.
Their silence dragged on for so long, before she eventually spoke.
âI didnât want you to see me.â
He took a few steps in her direction, still not saying a word, silently approaching her, and she knew it was time to explain herself.
She had hoped this moment would never arrive. Of course she wanted him home; alive and well and safe, but she had hoped he wouldnât want to see her. She didnât want to face up to this moment. She had really hoped he would turn away and give up, but deep down she knew that would never be the case. She didnât doubt for a second that he would keep fighting to receive, at the very least, some answers about what had changed.
And those answers wouldnât have been too hard to find.
âThere was an explosion⊠at the factory.â She whispered nervously, dropping her head again once she felt he was too close. âOne of the tank fuses exploded, and⊠it set off the rest of the fuses in the tray, andâŠâ
She couldnât quite finish what she way saying, memories of that horrific day well over a year earlier still haunting her. Â The accident had killed numerous women from their village, and injured many others, so it would only be so long before Alex learnt what had happened from someone else.
The aftermath of the explosion was obviously a blur to her. She woke weeks after it had happened, feeling weak and confused and trying to piece together her mind once again.
Sheâd never be able to describe that feeling, when she looked down to her body and saw that her leg was missing. It didnât make sense to her, like she was gazing down to someone elseâs frame. The explosion had almost torn the right-hand side of her body off, but thanks to the wonderful work by those at the hospital, she had survived. She was missing a vital limb, and she now had a scar that voyaged from her hip up to her eye, so deep and heavy on her body that part of her stomach looked as though it had completely caved in, but at least she was alive.
Alex still hadnât said a word, quiet as he knelt down ahead of her, but she forced her head even lower. She really couldnât face him.
âI didnât want you to see me like this.â She trembled, voice breaking. âIâm so happy youâre home, Alex, but⊠so much has changed since you were last here, and I didnât⊠I couldnât face you. I couldnât face this.â
âEve, please look at me.â He whispered.
âI canât. Iâm sorry, but-â
âIâm begging you, please look at me.â
She bit her top lip before she slowly, and reluctantly, lifted her head.
It was only then that he saw the mist that had shrouded her right eye, proving to him that she had lost some of her sight thanks to the accident.
Her bottom lip was quivering.
âI donât want you to feel guilty, for not wanting me anymore, Alex. I do understand. And I didnât want you to feel⊠obliged to-â
âEve, stop.â He hushed her words to a halt, placing his hand steadily on her leg. âYou think⊠Do you really think this bothers me? Do you really think this would keep me from you?â
âI donât-â
âI am in love with you, Evelyn. That hasnât changed!â The more he spoke, the more comfortable she became gazing back to him. âThis doesnât change anything for me! It doesnât change my feelings for you! I still love you, I⊠I still want a life with you!â
She truly couldnât believe what she was hearing.
It was any judgement against Alexâs character, that had lead her to believe he would turn away from her now that her body had changed so substantially. But sheâd had well over a year to come to terms with her new body, and just how difficult life was now. Everything had changed. Things that used to be easy were now draining and difficult. She herself, was now a grand undertaking, and one that she didnât expect anyone to take.
Alex was finally home from war. He was finally able to live a life that could be fulfilling and beautiful, and she felt as though she would hold him back from such beauty.
âI donât want you to live a hindered life with me when you can finally be free.â She admitted.
âA life with you would never be hindered.â He spoke calmly, so sure of what he was saying.
âAlex-â
âI love you.â He reached up, cupping her rosy cheek in his hand, wiping away a tear. âI donât want you to doubt that⊠ever. I still want a life with you. I still want to marry you. If youâll take me.â
Nothing had changed for Alex. There wasnât even a miniature part of him that felt any different about her, and the things he wanted. He knew things would be different now, but that didnât matter to him.
It wasnât her body that he had fallen in love with. It was her. And she was still there.
Somehow, theyâd both gotten lucky enough to survive the war, no matter how many times it had tried to kill them both. They were alive, and to him, that was his final sign that they truly belonged together.
His heart ached at the thought of her predicting that he would give up on her. The thought that she had sat there, alone, and convinced herself that the manipulation her body had gone through would mean he no longer wanted to share his entire existence with her.
He would spend the rest of his life making sure that she never doubted him, or his love for her, ever again. He would prove it in every single move he made. Every word and every touch and every gesture, would be to demonstrate to her that he wasnât going to be with her because he felt obligated to be, but because he wanted to be, and he always had.
âIâm still yours, Eve.â He smiled softly.
She let out a small sob, finally smiling back to him, totally overwhelmed by his words and his gestures, because sheâd truly convinced herself that this moment would never come. She leaned her cheek further into his touch, tears streaming down her cheeks, her heart so thunderous she felt her whole body quake.
âAnd Iâm still yours.â She trembled.
He grinned, his cheeks close to bursting due to the joy he was experiencing, before he finally pushed upwards and elevated forwards so that he could plant his lips on hers.
Neither of them had ever experienced a happiness quite as abrupt and extraordinary as that. After so many years where pining felt like the dominant feeling they experienced and shared, they could finally feel that love freely, openly, and without fear. Previously, this moment had been an illusion for them; a dream that, no matter how hard they both fought for it, felt totally out of reach and entirely unrealistic. There had been so many factors that had forced this interaction to be one that felt totally fabricated and improbable.
But it was real, and finally, it was theirs.
They kissed sweetly, their triumphant smiles hindering the movement of their eager lips just slightly, both breathless and beaming.
âI love you so much.â He whispered to her lips, so enthralled by the fact that she was truly, finally his.
âI love you too.â She replied, completely in awe.
All that Alex could think of then, was that the love they shared knew no bounds. It had been something they spent so many years concealing as friendship, and reshaped it and explored it at the worst time imaginable. But even with the way theyâd handled their love in their younger years, and the war, and the accident at the factory, had made no difference to the truth of their feelings.
Nothing could come between them then.
Nothing ever did.
