Author's Note: Welcome to chapter 11!

Dear Aoibheann,

I have tried to write this so many times, but I feel words just aren't enough in this situation.

Nevertheless, words are all I have to give and so I'm going to have to try.

You were right, my friend, as you often are and I should have known you only had my best interests at heart when you warned me to be careful. I should have known you were merely looking out for me and not interfering as I stupidly believed. I am in no way, shape, or form trying to excuse my actions because I should never have acted the way that I did and I should have listened to you, but I know – I hope - that you understand the thoughts I was having at the time were not actually my thoughts at all. Ciarán was pulling the strings and…and leading me to think those thoughts and it was all because I permitted him to do that.

I thought, when I returned to him after spending the night with you, that I truly had the upper hand for once. I thought my leaving would be a warning to him that I was done and had no qualms about walking out and leaving him for good should he refuse to change his ways and treat me better. It had the desired effect, I guess, because he was in no doubt that I meant my words by the way he acted. It was foolish of me to imagine he could ever truly change though. That he wouldn't be plotting some way to get back at me for threatening him. What was I thinking?

No doubt, you will have already been round to the cottage because you never could leave a matter unresolved. When you got there though, you will have found there was nobody home and I do have an explanation for that though I doubt you need one.

On the day Riordan came round to have things out with him – that morning – Ciarán told me they both had an old friend who had little time to live. Ruadhán, his name was, someone they used to go around causing chaos with when they were boys. He told me he had no relatives or friends around him and so he thought he would be the one to go to him and help him through it all. Being the idiot I was, I fell for the whole thing and when he asked me to accompany him so we wouldn't have to be apart for a great length of time, I jumped at the chance and that was another one of my worst mistakes to date.

I make a lot of them, don't I?

Well, all seemed normal to me on the journey here to Carlingford and he didn't do or say anything that made me doubtful of him. It was probably when we arrived at the guest house, when it conveniently slipped his mind to go and get the key from Ruadhán, that I should have realised something was off, but he managed to come up with some excuse that must have made sense to me at the time. Oh, Aoibh, you truly would not believe the state of the place. It was foul. I wouldn't even want a dog living in those conditions to be honest.

Of course, the state of the place makes more than enough sense now, but I will get onto that in a moment.

He said we would work together to bring the house up to standard, but he needed to go and check on Ruadhán and let him know he'd arrived before he could help me. I agreed to make a start and I fully expected him to be home when he said he would be. Well, I scrubbed the place from top to bottom and it was only when I sat down that I realised it was dark out and Ciarán still wasn't home. It made me worry. Can you truly believe that? I started worrying about him when I should have known where he was the entire time, honestly.

It won't come as any surprise to you because you were smart enough to see right through his little act, but he came stumbling through the door reeking of alcohol and I could have killed him. I asked him if he even saw Ruadhán that day and that was when he told me he was dead. He's been dead for the past ten years. The poor man died of diphtheria, something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, and he had no problem with taking advantage of that to get me under his control again. It was clever of him though, I'll give him that.

I can accuse that man of many, many things, but being an idiot surely isn't one of them.

How else would he keep succeeding in doing this to me?

I know this is my fault. I know I'm the reason the baby and I are in this position and I hate myself for it, but I can't do anything about it. I can't leave him because I wouldn't even know my way out of here and it's not like I would have the money to even make such a journey possible. Even if that weren't an element though, he has people watching my every move just like before. He must have made some friends at the pub the day we arrived and he told them – and I quote – that I'm 'soft in the head' and don't have a clue what I'm doing half the time, so if one of them spotted me trying to leave then they would take me straight to him.

He would kill me, I know he would.

He hates me and he hates the baby more than ever before now and the thought of that is just terrifying to me, Aoibh, because there's nothing to say he won't just try and get rid of us someday. He has nothing to lose and he's smart enough to make it look as though I took my own life or that I was in some tragic accident.

I wish you were here.

You would be able to talk some sense into me.

Well, actually, I have myself to blame for that too since it was my actions and my stupidity that led to all this.

I understand there's a chance this may never reach you because the very last thing Ciarán wants is for me to have contact with you. If he comes across this letter then he'll tear it up and I'll be in for it, but I want to write it regardless in case the opportunity to get this to you ever comes along. I need you to know how sorry I am and how much I regret all that happened.

I took you and your kindness for granted and now I may never see you again and that breaks my heart.

I love you though, Aoibh.

I never would have gotten through those years without you, you know that. You were my rock.

If this letter ever ends up in your hands, know I am eternally grateful to you and even if fate has it that we will never meet again, I will always be your friend.

Yours sincerely,

Margaret.

Setting her pencil down on the table once she had written her letter, Margaret leaned back in her seat and read over her words. It was the fourth time she'd tried to write it and she was pleased with it at last, but whether it was worth it was what was troubling her. Like she wrote, should her husband come across it and take it upon himself to read the contents then he would tear it up and throw it on the furnace and she would surely be in for it for going behind his back. He would have no real reason to be furious with her since she never said that she was planning to run away from him again nor gave out their location, but he never needed a reason to be.

It would have to be hidden for the moment, until she managed to think of a way in which to potentially send it, but it shouldn't be too hard a task. He was barely home anymore anyway, preferring to go and spend all his time with this little mistress of his rather than at home with her, so the chances of him coming across it were actually rather slim. "You know, the situation isn't ideal, little one, but at least we're getting some peace these days, eh?" She laid a hand on her bump through her skirt and smiled, smoothing her palm tenderly across the expanse before turning back to the letter on the table and folding it up so it would go neatly into the envelope.

Again, she had no idea if the words she wrote would ever be read by her friend, but that wasn't important.

All that mattered to her was saying what she needed to say.

And oh, had she.

"I'm home."

"Mmm, I gathered."

From where she was curled up on the sofa with her knitting needles in hand as she worked on a tiny cardigan, she didn't look up when her husband came walking into the lounge that afternoon. She hadn't seen him since he left for work at about four the previous morning – he hadn't even bothered coming home – but he'd been staying out later and later for nearly a fortnight now and so she couldn't say it came as too much of a surprise.

"Aren't you going to ask me where I've been? You love to stick your nose in places it isn't wanted, so you may as well." He ventured further into the lounge and made his way over to his armchair, sitting down on the arm.

"Funnily enough, I think I'll save myself the black eye and keep my thoughts on that to myself." She muttered.

"No, go on," He coaxed, prodding her. "You tell me where you think I was and I'll tell you if it's true."

Sighing under her breath, she set her knitting needles and the little ball of white yarn in her lap down next to her and looked up at him at long last. "I will, but you need to remember that you were the one who asked me to," She told him before taking a breath in an attempt to settle her nerves. "I…I think there's another woman."

"And what would make you think something like that?" He inquired.

"I tried to think of reasons for you to stay out for such long periods of time and though I tried not to, I really tried, it was that one I kept coming back to," Was her explanation. "So, am I correct? Is there somebody else?"

He stared at her silently for a moment before giving her an unphased nod. "Yes."

Of course, she'd known – well, she'd convinced herself – he was being unfaithful for quite some time and his response was one she'd been expecting from him, but it hurt to have him say it aloud. She thought it wouldn't bother her given the shambles their marriage was in, but there was certainly a dull ache in the pit of her chest. "I know you think I haven't any right to ask you such a thing," Her voice was soft. "But I need to know why."

"I needed an escape from you, that's why," He replied without a moment's hesitation. "I was sick and tired of being second best to that…that thing in there," He gestured to her bump. "And being so disrespected by you. I should be able to have a couple of drinks down at the public house without being scolded when I come home. A good wife does not question her husband and his choices. She realises that he is the head of their household and has the right to make any choice he desires. You are not my mother. You have no right to tell me what I should and shouldn't do, that lies with me, and I'm just through with coming home to someone so miserable."

She had to pretend his words didn't sting. "Uhm…what's she like?"

"Complete opposite of you, thank goodness," He moved to sit properly in his chair as he rolled his eyes at her. "I can say what I like around her without having to worry about her complaining at me every ten minutes. I'm able to drink all I want without her looking over my shoulder and telling me when I've had enough. When she and I leave for the night and go home together, she doesn't give me the pathetic excuse that she's feeling tired when I reach for her. Have you the slightest idea how refreshing that is after spending all that time with you?"

"I can't help being tired, Ciarán, I work hard to run this house and I do it all while pregnant." She whispered.

He tutted. "Again, complaining about your lot when you have never gone and done a hard day's work in your life. Luckily, I don't have to worry about listening to that sort of thing when I'm with her because she actually respects me. She sees I work hard and she admires me for it, so she takes the time to truly care for my needs."

"Oh, which I never did, is that what you're saying?" She growled with tears rolling down her face.

"You did the bare minimum and you did it reluctantly," He shook his head. "I deserve much better than that."

"And what about what I deserve? What this baby deserves?" She shouted, standing from the sofa and clutching at her bump. "We deserve a decent husband and a decent father. One that doesn't go around whacking me for the most ridiculous things when he has a couple drinks down him. One that doesn't refer to their child as an 'it' or a 'thing' and speak about it as though it's something he just scraped from the pavement! Why I wanted you to be part of its life, I don't know, because you're not worthy to be known as its father and you won't be."

Getting up from his chair, he moved to stand before her and looked her in the eye for a moment before taking hold of her and all but throwing her back down onto the sofa. "Good," He spat, looking at her with disgust as she sat there. "Because I would rather die than go through life having any duty to something so…so pointless."

Without another word, he stormed out of the lounge and it was only when she heard him slam the back door behind him that she truly cried. How could he say she never cared for his needs when the past several years of her life had been spent putting herself second? He came before her in every matter, he made sure of that, and she never complained about her lot which was what made him accusing her of such things so hard to stomach.

It was rare she said such things about herself, but he didn't realise how lucky he was to have her.

Someone constantly at his beck and call, someone who put up with his insults and awful moods, someone who fought and fought to make things work when they simply could have walked out and never come back to him.

Would his little mistress do the same? Would she heck as like.

No doubt, she would give him his marching orders the second he spoke down to her or raised his hand to her after one too many drinks. She wouldn't put up with half the things she did and so there he'd be, crawling on back to her and promising to make things work, but this time she wouldn't give him or his promises the time of day. If she had to go on living under the same roof as him, so be it, but that was as far as any 'relationship' between them would go because she would move out of their bedroom for good. She would leave him to make his own meals, get his own clothing sorted in the morning and do all that had to be done with his own hands.

She was done being his slave and she was done being his wife.

For good this time.

Letting her dressing gown fall to the carpet once she'd poured one last bucket of water into the little tin bath, she climbed in and lowered herself into the water before humming with contentment as she relaxed somewhat. It was far from something she did often, allowing herself a night in the bath to just unwind and let her aching muscles rest, but her chest was still – she could hardly believe it, honestly – not entirely recovered from when she got sick and so she made herself get in. She'd noticed that the steam helped make it much easier for her to breathe and since it eased her pain and discomfort at the same time, she would certainly consider that a bonus.

Bringing a hand to her bump beneath the water, she cradled it in her palm and sighed as she looked up at the ceiling while stroking small circles onto it. It was true, what she said to Ciarán earlier on. He wouldn't be the father of their child, not in her eyes. Of course, by law, she would have to have his name written on the birth document, but that was as far as it was going to go. She would have to be dead and buried before she allowed him to manipulate their son or daughter and ruin their life the way he ruined hers. He would never get close enough to them to bring them harm, she would see to that, and if any risks needed to be taken they would be.

Her child wouldn't need him.

She would make sure their child didn't need him because she would do all in her power to ensure that she was enough. He or she, even if she failed to give them all they wanted, would never have to go without the things they needed. She would be there for every feed, every change, every illness and every long and sleepless night. She would be both father and mother to their child and, unless she truly had to, she would never mention his name around them. It was hard enough for her to know they were part of the reason their marriage was going further and further down the drain. It wouldn't do for them to have to know that too, not if she could help it.

"No matter what he says," She said quietly, looking down at her hand. "You are so loved and I want you more than anything else in this world. I might make a couple of mistakes when you get here and I already apologise for them, my love, but we're going to learn to do things together and we don't need help from him or anyone else. It'll just be me and you, like it really always has been, and I think we are going to make a brilliant team."

Sinking further into the water then, she let her eyes close and tried her best to relax as thoughts of the future entered her mind. It was going to be a challenge, what with Ciarán no doubt popping in every now and again purely to stir up trouble and make things harder for the both of them, but she would deal with that when the time came. Her baby would be the only thing that mattered to her by that point, so he could honestly say and do whatever he liked to her and she would never give him the satisfaction of a response. He could take all she had and he was doing so, but the happiness their child brought to her life was something he could never steal.

She would never let him.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for taking the time to read! I will admit I struggled a little with writer's block with this one, but I would love to know what you thought of it if you have the time and I will see you all soon!