**Diary Entry**
The house feels heavy tonight. Michael and I returned from the funeralhis mother, Anna, has been laid to rest beside his father. It was her wish, something she spoke of often in her final days.
*»At least shes at peace now,»* Michael murmured, staring into the fire. *»No more suffering.»*
*»Yes,»* I agreed, though part of me wondered why shed worried so. We would never have buried her anywhere else.
We sat in silence, lost in our own thoughts. Mine drifted back to my pastbefore Michael, before this life. There wasnt much brightness in those early years. I lost my parents young, both perishing in my grandmothers house the night after Grandads funeral. A fire took them. My brother Nick and I were left alonehe was seventeen, I was thirteen.
The village was smallbarely forty cottagesand life was hard. Nick worked the land while I trudged three miles to school in the next village. In winter, wed cut across the frozen river to save time. There was an old man, Ned, who used to take us by horse-cart on Mondays, but the older boys often walked back early, led by Mike, the chairmans son.
*»Anyone heading home today, meet at the bench after lessons,»* hed say.
No one minded the walk. Together, the woods werent so frightening. And there were other distractionsnotes passed, dances at the village hall. Everyone knew who fancied whom by Monday.
I was quiet, kept to myself. But by sixteen, the village had taken notice. *»Pretty as an angel,»* they whispered. The boys respected me, kept their distanceexcept Mike.
Rumours spread fast when we started walking home hand in hand. *»Two lovebirds,»* the old women cooed. *»A wedding soon, mark my words.»*
His parents didnt approve. His father, Simon, was the wealthiest man in the villagefirst to own a car, a proper farm. He wanted better for his son.
*»Listen, Ellen,»* he told his wife, *»our boy cant marry some penniless orphan. Ive got the agronomists daughter in mindgood family, proper connections.»*
They schemed. Simon paid off my brothers wife, Sarah, to send me awayto some distant aunt in Yorkshire. Nick obeyed her, as always. I was bundled onto a train with nothing but an address crumpled in my hand.
Mike was heartbroken. When conscription came, he left without a word to his parents. Two years passed before he wrote: *»Found a girl. Bringing her home.»*
The village buzzed. *»Some city lass, no doubt,»* they gossiped.
Then the taxi pulled up. Mike stepped out in uniformand then me, in a white dress. The crowd gasped. His parents froze.
*»Meet my wife,»* he announced, grinning.
Laughter, cheers. *»Thats love for you!»*
Simon and Ellen had no choice. They welcomed me, and in time, they loved me. We had two sons, a good life.
Now, sitting here after Annas funeral, the house is too quiet. Grief will fade. Life goes on. Some people are meant to be togetherno matter what stands in their way.
