Chapter 43:
Your Heart has Meaning.
Osheae, Aersdei, Uegil 17th, 1929.
To my future heart, whose eyes read this entry, from my past one, that poured my feelings into these words-
How are you now?
I’ve never had children before, and I don’t recall ever having a mother, so its not as if there’s anyone who can teach me to live this new life.
It’s just like that- new. Because of that, I’m terrified. I don’t know what to expect, and I don’t know if because of that, I’ll be able to be a ‘great mother’.
Regardless of that, soon I will be. On a quiet ‘autumn’ day, as he called it, Agreste took me to see a physician, and he confirmed all that I had suspected.
To be with child, is it normal to have struck my heart with fear and happiness alike?
But, when I look over at him, with his eyes like a rainstorm, and a smile carved into his face like a statue of kindness, I can’t help but feel at ease. When he holds my hands in his, and I realise how larger-than-life they are to me, I feel soothed. Not once has he ever asked more of me than to be who I am, and that makes me want to be more for him so much more.
When I cry, he holds me close, until I feel warm and calm once again. When I’m angry, he smiles simply, and tells me that my feelings mean the world, and listens as I rant away my endless thoughts.
Although, as he has continued this ‘masquerade’ of his, as of which he says is to end the war, I cannot help but be worried. Could one man solve centuries of greed and bloodshed with words alone? He’s taken to working with the printer - Stellan Hemingway. Most times, I wish he wouldn’t. A man of sedition would most certainly lead him to a life within a cell. I suppose then, all I can do is sit and wait for him to return, with worry in my heart.
When faced with the prospect of becoming a father, however, his rampant ‘always-forward’ mood has seemed to become still. His childish recklessness has seemed to have washed away, and for that I’m thankful.
Then, it brings forth so many questions- how will we raise this child to be? Will they have my eyes, or his? Will their hair be thick and rough, or as fair as mine? Will their skin be a gentle amber, or as pale as the ocean sand? I know that if they are as half as handsome as Agreste, or as half as driven as I can so carelessly be, they will certainly be a handful. Thankfully, they will be wholly themselves, and that is why I will love them endearingly.
I cannot remember much, before I had met Franz Forger. Rather, anything before the first time I had grasped his rough hand, which had led me so far in my life, I can recall nothing at all. When I would ask Cassea about it- rather, our life before Franz, she would just shrug it off as if it had no importance. I wonder sometimes, if she too cannot remember it, or if she is failing to tell me because she doesn’t think I need to, or doesn’t want me to know.
Because of that, I had long decided to stop staring at the distant past. Now, beside Agreste, I feel as if I can simply enjoy the present, and look forward to the future ahead. With him, I feel myself growing more and more greedy.
Now, one lifetime feels not nearly enough.
To my future heart,
From Theresia Hayes.
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