"No, it isn't. And your family is barbarous for venting their anger on you these past years. You didn't kill your sister and mother. You just happened to be the only one with her when she died, you were young and couldn't do anything to save her. It was not your fault, it wasn't."
"They don't understand that." She placed her head on his chest, sobbing hard. "It hurts that she left very early. Callan, we had plans, we had so much to do together. She even told me about a boy she liked, crazy, right? A seven-year-old liking a boy? She was so full of life—but it ended in a flash…Even before I could control it, she died."
"She's resting well. It's been a whole lot of years, you should move on and live your life to the fullest. You can do the things you planned to do with her now, that way she'd be forever grateful to you." Callan pressed her hand gently, smiling at her.
Orla bought his idea, but she didn't think Isla would ever be happy with her.
"She'd never be happy with me. She appears to me all the time and doesn't want me to be happy. Sometimes, I feel like I don't deserve to be happy after what happened to her. She taunts me in my dream, Callan."
"Those are nightmares and they are fragments of your thoughts before you go to bed."
In the past, he had read books about nightmares. With the little knowledge he collated back then, he was certain that he could tutor Orla on why she had recurring nightmares.
"She wants you to be happy, but you think she doesn't want you to be. Your thoughts are what turn out to be your dreams, Orla. Well—how often do you think about her?" He asked, stroking her wrist. An assurance that he'd always be with her.
"Always. She's always in my thoughts. Right now as we speak, she's all over my mind. I will forever be guilty of not stopping her, Callan. It can't be helped."
He patted her back, lightly, compelled to tell her stories about his past too. How he lost his only brother, but he shoved that thought deep down.
Orla was expressing her grief and it was only right that he comforted her. Talking about his past would only make them pitiful and she, who needed comfort, would end up comforting him.
He didn't want that, he could always bring that up in the future if she asked though.
"You inundate yourself with the belief that she doesn't want you to be happy. You believe that you don't deserve to be happy because she died, don't you?" His eyes bored into hers as if he could read her mind.
She slowly shook her head, he was right.
"And that's why the nightmares would continue. Can you change how you think about her? How about you stop blaming yourself?" He pulled her closer, caressing her soft hair.
"I would be cruel, don't you think?" She arched her eyebrows, uncertainty laced in her low voice.
"You are more cruel to yourself for having thoughts of living in melancholy all the days of your life. Everyone deserves to be happy and loved…"
"Except me," she quickly interjected. "You hated me when you met me too. Everyone always does and that's why I have no friends." She pressed her lips into a thin line, unconsciously blinking her huge eyes.
"That's where you get it wrong and woe to whoever gave you that ideology that you should be hated." Anger was fused in his voice, Orla sensed it and she was forced to smile. "I was just being an asshole. I wasn't ready for the whole marriage stuff—my mother wanted me to get married and marrying you was just not the plan then. I was angry. I was just venting and you were the closest to me, and I am sorry for making the object of my vexation."
Orla smiled again. Callan was cute whenever he raved. She touched his face and thought of kissing his lips, but she stopped herself.
"I thought I had that aura of contempt." She said truthfully. That was what she always thought whenever people met her for the first time and hated her instantly.
"You are a sweet girl, Orla. Liam fell in love with you the very first day he met you. I guess you've been meeting with assholes like me in the past."
He took her hand, bending a little to place a kiss on it.
"You deserve to be loved, you deserve to be happy. Orla, change your thoughts about your twin. Try to live a little happier and nurture positive thoughts. Everything that happened wasn't your fault and you must know that."
What about the poisoned water she served her mother? Was that not her fault too? She thought subconsciously.
"So, what should I do? How do I do that?" She asked, staring at her husband.
She had grown uncontrollable feelings for this man, she liked him so much she didn't want to imagine a second without him by her side.
She wanted him, this part of him that listened to her, that spent time with her. She didn't want Callan to ever change, she was gradually falling and she didn't want to slip as she fell.
"You spend most of your time indoors and that's why you harbor wild thoughts about your sister. Go out there, to the real world and do more productive things that would consume your time." Callan placed his finger on his lips, racking his brain for more tips.
"You wouldn't fit for a therapist." She said teasingly.
"I have no plans to be one. But for you, maybe I can be." He winked at her.
"For me, for me only." She brought her cold feet out of the water and smiled. "Thank you, Callan." She stretched a little, smiling at him.
"Orla. I want you to know that I am here, always here for you. To help you figure out your life, to listen to you, to make you happy and to make you—" he stared longer into her eyes.
It didn't start today, it started a long time ago, but he hadn't realised until that night. As he stared at her, it became visible that he had fallen for her, he was irresistible to her charms and couldn't let go of her anymore.
She was his only and for life. And he would do anything to protect her always, forever.
The slow girl had invaded the walls that guided his stoned heart. She had pulled down the walls with her charms and now, he was at her mercy.
"To make me what?" She touched him, bringing him back to reality.
To make you feel loved. But instead, he said. "To make you a great Chef. I am ready to teach you how to cook." After that day he cooked for her, and they had a discussion.
"Really?" Her eyes gleamed with smiles.
"Yes, if you are ready to learn." He said, shrugging his shoulders. "I like it when my student is eager to learn. But don't worry, I won't go hard on you. I will steal more kisses from you instead of going hard."
"Teachers are not allowed to kiss their students." She argued.
"Not when the student is my wife."
"Oh," she hit his chest very lightly, careful not to hurt him. "You always have a response to all of my words. Why?"
"That, I don't have a response to." He giggled, staring at the bright moon. "Your feet are cold, aren't they?"
"They are, but I don't mind. That's how I want them to be." His arm around her neck made her warm. So, it made up for her cold feet.
"You will catch a cold. I don't want you to fall sick." His gaze dropped down to her. Their eyes met for a few seconds, becoming intense before Orla averted her gaze.
"Why?" She asked, meeting his lips as lowered his head to kiss her.
He pressed his lips on hers, gently chewing them, he pulled out.
"I don't like to teach sick students. I need my students to be active." He looked down at her small feet in the water and smiled.
"How do I pay for this therapy session we just had?" She asked, smirking.
"Can you swim?" He realised he had never asked her that.
"No, the last time I neared a pool was when I was seven." She answered easily. "But I am here again, because you are here with me." Her smile was broad, the broadest he had ever seen it to be.
Callan was glad he could be of help to her and that the thought of coming close to water didn't scare her, she seemed to be relaxed as she talked to him. He liked that.
"Orla, you will be fine." He held her hands firmly.
Orla nodded her head, she believed him so much.
"Maybe, I will be."
How are you guys doing?