In Another's Silence

Cinder Hearts

My gaze drifted to the study table across the room, where my diary lay open, its pages flipping under the drafts sneaking in through the windows of my estate. Words blurred in the dim candlelight, yet they offered a strange comfort.

I longed for a moment of peace, a sliver of time where I could forget everything and just exist in stillness. Away from all the expectations, the whispers, the endless noise of life that followed me even here. But peace was a luxury I could never seem to afford. I went and sat on the chair nearby.

The rocking chair beneath me creaked as I leaned back. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the sound of the wind fill my ears, hoping it might drown out the thoughts that clawed at the back of my mind, I had an argument with her.

My chest tightened, and just as I thought the silence within might break through, a sharp sound made me open my eyes. A thud, barely audible over the Chaos outside, brought my attention back to the study table.

A small, leather-bound journal lay on the floor, dislodged from the old stack of papers that sat precariously on the edge of the desk. I blinked at it, the worn cover and frayed edges stirring a memory I had long buried.

I set my glass down, the wine sloshing against the sides, and rose to retrieve the fallen book. My fingers brushed against the familiar texture of its weathered leather, and a shiver ran through me. As I lifted the journal, and before I realized it, a few fresh tears slipped from my eyes.

It was my journal from 1802. A year I had tried to forget, tucked away between old ledgers and mundane accounts. A time when my heart had been full of hope, when I still believed in the promises life whispered to the young. The year when everything changed, and the shadows crept in.

I opened the cover with a shaky hand, the pages worn and stained with age. Words leapt out at me, some I recognized, others I had forgotten I ever wrote. Memories that had once been vivid had blurred over time, but now they rushed back like the wind outside, unbidden and fierce. Faces, moments, regrets, all pressed between the lines of those pages.

The candlelight flickered as the wind grew stronger, and I found myself sinking to the floor beside the rocking chair, the journal clutched to my chest. My thoughts were a storm of their own, memories swirling faster than I could catch them. I was having a bad ache in my head.

At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be free from it all, to find a quiet place where the wind could not reach me, where the past could not haunt me, I was happy with my life, I didn't expect this out of the blue.

But as the windows shook and the pages of my journal flapped wildly in the wind, I knew that peace would remain just beyond my grasp, I bit my cheeks as tears left my eyes, I hate it, I hate that year, I hate those memories.

Suddenly, all the emotions I had been holding in broke free, and I started to cry. The kind of tears that came from deep inside, leaving me feeling raw and exposed. I covered my face with my hands, trying to stop, but I couldn't.

I kept thinking about how happy I used to be. Life was so simple and good back then. But now everything has changed, I've changed, my day wasn't already going good so far, after our argument earlier, and now this...

I looked down at the journal in my hands and flipped through a few pages, hoping to find something that would calm me down. But instead, the words only brought back memories, memories that hurt too much.

I glanced toward the door of the room next to mine. I knew she was probably in there, putting our children to bed, humming a soft tune to help them sleep. And here I was, caught up in old memories and regrets, unable to move on.