Page 159 of Unrequited
Unlocking this room really did feel like unlocking his heart. And I was not wrong.
Seamus McCarthy loves me with everything he has.
I think I’ve cried enough—until I find the last box.
I pull it down. Open it. Sniff hard, trying to stay composed.
But I can’t.
I bury my face in my arms and weep.
When I finally lift my head, I wipe my eyes and look again.
It’s a framed photo of my parents’ wedding day.
He found them.
He forgave my family.
We’re forging ahead.
I stare at the picture—at my father, whose looks like Rafail, with a touch of Semyon and Rodion.
At my mother. My god, my mother.
Now I understand why Rafail protected me so fiercely.
Because this is the first time I’ve ever seen her like this—young, glowing.
She looks just like me.
I’m a miniature version of her.
I’ve only ever seen pictures taken after Rafail’s birth, when they already looked older. But this was before the heartbreak, before the war.
They had years of infertility before they had Rafail. They were practically children when they married. I’ve never seen them so vibrant. So alive.
My God, how did he find this?
There’s a soft click behind me. I don’t turn.
“You found them,” he says. His voice proud but hesitant.
I feel him behind me, a man who’s never lost a fight, now worried about my reaction.
I hold the photo.
“Where did you get this?” I ask. “Oh, Seamus.”
“Your aunt and uncle worked for us. You know that, right?”
“Yes.”
“I paid a pretty price for that picture,” he says with a smile. “Never the cost of betrayal. No, they just wanted money. Who knew an old photo could cost so much? It was worth every penny less, wasn’t it?”
My throat tightens. “Thank you,” I whisper. But the words feel too small.
How do you thank someone for giving you a piece of yourself you never knew was missing?
