Chapter 4

The sound of the wind howling across the deck of the Titanic filled Rose's ears as she ran, her footsteps frantic and uneven on the polished wood. Her heart pounded, not from the physical exertion, but from the unbearable weight of despair pressing down on her chest. Every step she took, every breath she drew, felt heavier than the last. Her vision blurred as tears welled up, making the lights of the grand ship appear like distant, smudged stars. She was running from everything—her life, her future, the suffocating expectations—and there was only one place left to go.

She reached the end of the ship, her body trembling as she grasped the cold metal railing. The ocean stretched out before her, dark and endless, as if it could swallow her whole. It was what she wanted, wasn't it? To disappear, to be free from everything. Her hands tightened around the bars as she stared down at the black, swirling water far below. The cold night air stung her cheeks, mixing with the wetness of her tears, and she climbed up onto the railing with shaky legs.

But as her feet found their place on the edge, a voice cut through the wind behind her, sharp and bewildered. "What on earth are you doing?"

Startled, Rose's grip faltered, her heart jolting as she turned her head. Standing a few feet away was a young woman, her hair wild in the wind, her coat flapping around her. The woman's eyes were wide with alarm, her hands raised slightly as if unsure whether to come closer or stay back.

"Go away!" Rose snapped, her voice cracking under the strain of her fear and frustration. "Just—just leave me alone!"

The woman didn't move. She stood her ground, her gaze flicking between Rose and the dark waters beyond her. "I'm not going anywhere," she said firmly, but there was a tremor in her voice, a nervousness that belied her bravery. "Not until you get down from there."

Rose turned back to the sea, her chest heaving. "I don't want to talk to anyone. Just let me be."

For a moment, the only sound was the rushing wind and the distant hum of the ship's engines. Then, the woman's voice softened, the edge of panic giving way to something more gentle. "You're not really going to… throw yourself over the railing, are you?"

Rose squeezed her eyes shut, her hands clenching tighter on the cold metal. "It's none of your concern."

But the woman wasn't deterred. "Oh my god," she whispered, the realization hitting her. "You were. You were going to jump."

Rose's throat tightened, the truth hanging between them like a weight she couldn't bear. "What does it matter?" she spat, her voice harsh with emotion. "What difference would it make to you? To anyone?"

"Because you don't want to do this," the woman said urgently, taking a cautious step forward. "I don't know what's brought you to this point, but this—this isn't the way."

Rose's body trembled, her grip on the railing unsteady. "You don't understand," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I can't breathe. I can't think. I don't know who I am anymore, and I don't want to be… this." She gestured vaguely at herself, her expensive dress, her trapped existence, "I don't want to be… his."

The woman took another step closer, her voice calm but firm. "You don't have to be. Whatever you're going through, this isn't the end of your story. It can't be."

Rose's breath hitched, the darkness closing in on her from all sides. She wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that there was another way, but it felt impossible. "Why do you even care?"

The woman's face softened, her eyes filled with something Rose hadn't seen in a long time—genuine concern. "Because I've been where you are," she said quietly. "Maybe not in the same way, but I know what it feels like to want to run, to escape. I know what it's like to feel trapped."

Rose's eyes filled with fresh tears, her hands trembling on the railing. "I can't… I can't go back to that life."

"You don't have to," the woman said gently, taking another step forward. "But jumping… that's not the answer."

For a moment, Rose wavered. The wind whipped around her, cold and biting, and she felt the pull of the sea beneath her, dark and endless. But something in the woman's voice, something in her eyes, kept her rooted to the spot.

"Please," the woman said softly. "Just take my hand. We can figure this out. You don't have to do this alone."

Rose's breath came in shaky gasps, her mind racing. She glanced down at the water one last time, the abyss calling to her, but then she looked back at the woman's outstretched hand, steady and sure.

"I can't walk away now. Not without knowing you will be all right."

Slowly, hesitantly, Rose unclenched her fingers from the railing. Her legs shook as she turned, lowering herself from the edge, and the moment her feet touched the deck, the woman was there, gently guiding her away from the rail.

"There," the woman murmured, her voice soothing. "You're safe."

Rose let out a shuddering breath, the reality of what she had almost done crashing down on her. Her body sagged with exhaustion, and she felt the woman's arm come around her shoulders, steadying her.

"Let's get you inside," the woman said softly. "We'll find somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe."

Rose nodded, too drained to argue. Together, they walked back toward the first-class entrance, the lights of the ship warm and welcoming in the distance.

As they reached the doors, Rose stopped, turning to the woman who had saved her life. "What's your name?"

The woman smiled, her eyes kind and steady. "Maureen."

Rose gave her a small, grateful smile, her heart still heavy but no longer drowning. "Thank you, Maureen."

"And what may I call you?"

"Rose."

"You may not feel it now, Rose. But by tomorrow I'll let you know why it is a blessing to be alive."

Rose blinked again, her heart still racing from the intensity of her flashback, but Mark's words began to sink in. She looked up at him, her mind slowly catching up to the present. "They're alive?" she repeated, as if needing to hear it again to fully believe it.

Mark nodded, his face softening. "Yes. It's a girl. She is born a month too early, but despite being small, she's fine. Strong, actually, for being so early. Sarah's tired, but she's alright too. They're both going to be okay."

The wave of relief that washed over Rose was overwhelming, and for a moment, she felt light-headed. She pressed a hand to her chest, letting out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. After everything that had happened—the fear, the waiting—it was hard to believe that everything had turned out alright.

"They're okay," Rose whispered to herself, her eyes growing misty. "Thank God."

Mark smiled weakly, running a hand through his hair. "It was a scary night, no doubt. I thought—" He stopped himself, as if he couldn't even bring himself to say the words. His voice cracked slightly. "But they pulled through."

Rose looked up at him, sensing the deep emotion just beneath the surface. Mark was always so steady, so strong, but in this moment, she could see how much the night had taken out of him.

"She's a fighter," Rose said softly, thinking of Sarah. And now, their new little girl was, too.

Mark nodded, exhaling deeply. "Yeah, she is." He paused, as if gathering his thoughts. Rose smiled, feeling her heart warm at the thought of the tiny baby in Sarah's arms. Despite the fear and uncertainty of the night, there was something beautiful about the way life had prevailed.

"She's lucky," Rose said gently. "To have you both as parents."

Mark chuckled softly, though his eyes were still heavy with the weight of the night. "I'm the lucky one," he murmured. "We both are."

They stood there for a moment in silence, the gravity of everything that had happened settling between them. It wasn't until Mark shifted slightly, glancing back toward the room, that Rose spoke again.

"Can I see them?" she asked quietly, her voice tentative.

Mark nodded. "Of course. Sarah's resting, but she'll be happy to see you. The baby's in there with her, too."

Rose followed Mark toward the door, her heart still fluttering with a mixture of relief and lingering anxiety. As she stepped into the room, the sight that met her eyes was one of quiet, tender peace. Sarah was propped up in the bed, her face pale but peaceful, her eyes closed in much-needed rest. In her arms, swaddled in a soft blanket, was the baby—tiny, pink, and impossibly small, but breathing steadily.

Rose's heart clenched at the sight. Despite the fear of the early birth, despite the exhaustion and the pain, here they were—mother and daughter, safe and sound.

Sarah stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open when she sensed someone entering the room. Her gaze landed on Rose, and a tired but genuine smile spread across her face.

"Rose," she whispered, her voice hoarse but filled with warmth.

Rose smiled back, her throat tight with emotion. "Hello there," she said softly, stepping closer to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Sarah admitted with a weak chuckle. "But happy. She's here, and she's alright. That's all that matters."

Rose gazed down at the baby, her heart swelling with affection. "She's beautiful, Sarah."

"Isn't she?" Sarah murmured, glancing down at her daughter with that same tired, love-filled smile. "So small, but so strong."

Rose swallowed back the lump in her throat, reaching out gently to brush a fingertip against the baby's soft cheek. She felt a rush of protectiveness, of tenderness, that she hadn't expected.

Mark stood by the doorway, watching the two women, his eyes soft with quiet pride and relief. "We're thinking of naming her Grace," he said after a moment, his voice breaking the stillness.

Sarah's gaze lifted to meet his, her smile widening slightly. "Grace," she repeated, testing the name on her lips. "It feels right."

Rose smiled, her heart full as she stood beside her friend. "It's perfect," she whispered.

A few days had passed, and the house had settled into a quieter routine as Sarah recovered from the birth. Rose made her way upstairs, carefully balancing a tray of fresh food. She pushed the door open gently, not wanting to disturb Sarah if she was sleeping, but found her lying awake, propped up by pillows. Her face looked more rested now, the color slowly returning to her cheeks.

Rose smiled as she set the tray down on the nightstand. "I brought you some food, Sarah. How are you feeling today?"

Sarah sighed softly, adjusting her position. "Better. A little stronger each day, but still so tired." Her gaze shifted to the side, where the crib stood, the baby sleeping peacefully inside. She reached for a small glass of water but hesitated. "How is my Evie girl?" she asked, her voice tinged with guilt. "I feel awful not being able to be with her more. It feels like I'm missing out."

Rose poured her a glass of water and handed it to her before sitting down on the edge of the bed. "She's fine, Sarah. She doesn't quite understand yet that the baby is here to stay and that she's now a big sister, but she's doing well."

Sarah smiled faintly. "I bet she'll be the best big sister once it sinks in. Having siblings… it makes your life feel so rich, doesn't it?"

There was a wistful tone in Sarah's voice that made Rose pause. She looked at her friend, curious. "Do you have siblings, Sarah?"

Sarah's face softened, her smile widening as she nodded. "Yes, two younger brothers. Matthew and Jack."

Rose followed Sarah's gesture to the opposite side of the room and saw the framed picture hanging on the wall. It was a family portrait, capturing a moment of happiness frozen in time. Sarah stood on the far right, a bright smile on her face, her arm looped around one of two boys on the left. Behind them, two older people, presumably Sarah's parents, stood proudly. The boys, though younger, shared some of the same features as Sarah—the same eyes, the same soft expressions—but their individuality shone through too.

"Does your family live around town?" Rose asked quietly, feeling the peacefulness of the photo, unaware of the weight that question carried.

Sarah's smile faltered, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "No." She took a deep breath before continuing, her eyes fixed on the photograph. "My parents and my youngest brother, Matthew, died in a house fire six years ago."

The words hung heavily in the air, filling the room with a thick sadness. Rose's heart clenched, and her gaze shifted back to the youngest boy, the one Sarah had mentioned. "Matthew is on the left," Sarah said softly, her eyes distant as she looked at the picture. "He was… the sweetest, most gentle soul. So shy. I always wondered what was going through his head because he rarely spoke his feelings out loud. But you could tell he was kind, just by the way he looked at you."

Rose swallowed hard, unable to find the words to respond as Sarah continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "He was only twelve when it happened. Just a boy. He would've been your age by now."

Rose's stomach dropped, a sharp pain cutting through her as Sarah's sadness filled the room. She hadn't known this side of Sarah's life. It was like peeling back a layer of the woman she admired so much, only to find deep wounds hidden beneath the surface. Wounds that still bled, no matter how much time had passed.

"I'm so sorry," Rose whispered, her voice barely audible as she looked back at Sarah. But the words felt empty, inadequate in the face of such loss.

Sarah shook her head gently, still staring at the photograph. "Jack and I, we were away that night. I still can't believe how lucky—or unlucky—that made us. We lost everything. Our parents had owned a shop in town. That photo was taken just three weeks before it burned down. Jack and I had to rebuild, and…" Her voice trailed off, and she finally turned to meet Rose's gaze, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "That was the last picture we took as a family."

"I can't imagine your pain, Sarah." Rose whispered.

Sarah offered a sad, small smile. "It's been a long time. I've come to terms with it… mostly. But sometimes, I can still hear their laughter in the house, or I'll see something and think about how they would've liked it," She kept staring at the picture, "Mark and I married soon after the incident," she said, her voice softer now, more reflective. "We took in Jack. He was only sixteen then, but…" She paused, her eyes clouding. "He was always so restless. After losing them, it was like part of him couldn't ever settle again. As if he was afraid it was his time next."

Rose frowned slightly, her mind turning over Sarah's words. "Restless?"

Sarah nodded, sighing. "Two years ago, he packed his bags and left for Europe. He couldn't stay still here, in this town, where everything reminded him of them. I doubt he'll ever come back."

Rose felt a pang of sadness for the boy in the photo, his face so full of youth and possibility. "You don't hear from him?"

"Every now and then," Sarah said, her voice quiet. "But it's always brief, always distant. I think he needed to disappear to find some kind of peace."

Rose hesitated for a moment, then spoke, her voice soft. "Do you miss him?"

Sarah smiled faintly, though the sadness in her eyes remained. "Every day. But we all grieve in our own ways, don't we? Some of us stay and build new lives, and some of us… well, some of us have to wander." She glanced at Rose, her expression wistful but accepting. "I've made my peace with it. And look at what I have now."

Sarah took a sip of her water, her mood gradually lightening after their heavy conversation. She glanced at Rose again, clearly trying to shift to a lighter subject. "So... do you have any siblings, Rose?" she asked casually, her tone gentle but curious.

Rose stiffened almost imperceptibly. Her gaze flicked away for a moment before she gave a quick, almost dismissive response. "No," she said dryly, her tone clipped, clearly not wanting to linger on the subject.

Sensing the closed door, Sarah hesitated but then asked, softly, "And what about your parents?"

Rose froze. The question hit her like a cold wind, pulling her back to places she had spent so long trying to bury. She swallowed hard, her throat tightening as she tried to hold herself steady. Her eyes stared straight ahead, unfocused, as she forced her voice into something distant and detached.

"They died when I was young," Rose said, her voice barely more than a whisper, and every word felt like a thin, fragile shield she was erecting between herself and the past. "I can barely remember them."

Before Sarah could say anything, the moment was interrupted by a loud cry from downstairs. "Rosie!" Little Evelyn's voice echoed up the staircase, full of excitement.

Relief flooded Rose, and she stood quickly, the tension in her shoulders releasing as she moved toward the door. "That's Evie," she murmured, grateful for the excuse. "I'd better go."

Sarah opened her mouth to respond, but Rose was already halfway out of the room. As she hurried down the stairs, her heart still pounding from the close call, she saw Evelyn standing in the doorway of the kitchen, her face beaming with joy.

Behind her, Betty stood with a warm smile, holding a small present wrapped in soft pink paper. It was clearly meant for the new baby, and the sight of Betty brought another wave of comfort over Rose, grounding her again.

"Hello, Rose," Betty greeted warmly, her eyes sparkling with kindness. "I thought I'd drop by and bring a little something for the newest addition to the family."

Rose smiled, grateful for the distraction. "That's very sweet of you, Betty. I'm sure Sarah will appreciate it."

Betty waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, it's nothing. Just a little something I knitted for the baby. How is she?"

"She's doing well. Still tiny, but strong." Rose glanced down at Evelyn, who was tugging on her skirt impatiently.

"Rosie, can we go outside?" Evelyn asked, her wide eyes pleading.

Rose knelt down to Evelyn's level and smiled, ruffling her hair. "How about we take a stroll, hmm? I'll even let you show Betty the flowers you've been picking."

Evelyn nodded eagerly, practically bouncing with excitement. "Yes, yes!"

Rose stood back up and turned to Betty. "Would you like to join us for a walk?"

Betty's eyes lit up with warmth. "I'd love that."

As they strolled through the fields, the scent of wildflowers mingling with the soft breeze, Rose found her thoughts drifting. Evelyn was up ahead, laughing as she twirled with a daisy in her hand, her little feet skipping along the grassy path. Betty walked beside her, quiet and content, the afternoon sun casting a golden glow over everything. Betty had spoken of a man once. A man she had cared deeply for, someone she had talked about with a fondness that could only come from love. Rose could remember the way Betty's eyes would soften when she mentioned him, the wistful tone in her voice. It had only been once that Betty had brought him up, but now, as Rose replayed that old conversation, the pieces started to fall into place.

Sarah's brother Jack.