Coming Soon" Embers of hope"

. “You know about Clara, don’t you? About her new life?”

Mitch’s jaw tightened at the mention of his wife’s name, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. He glanced toward the window, where the fading light threw long shadows across the room.

I know,” he said quietly. “I know she married again. I know she moved on.” He paused, his gaze returning to hers. “But there’s still unfinished business. The land, the farm... I can’t just walk away from that. Not without making sure it’s taken care of.”

The tension between them thickened, palpable and unrelenting. Marcella took a tentative step toward him, her hands trembling—not from fear this time, but from something deeper, something she wouldn’t yet name. She reached out, her fingers brushing his arm gently.

Mitch’s voice came low, strained, as if the words had been locked inside him for too long. “I was going to confront her,” he said, his gaze fixed on the window. “I thought if I could explain—after all those years away in the war, the miserable years in prison... if I could just see her, maybe I could get my life back.” He swallowed hard. “Why didn’t she wait for me?” he asked brokenly, not expecting an answer.

Marcella stood in silence, her heart pounding as the weight of his words settled between them, the soft tick of the small wall clock punctuating the futility of the unanswered question.

"But when I got to town,” Mitch continued finally, his voice tight with emotion, “I saw them. Dr. Harris was helping her into the buggy... she was heavy with his child.” His voice wavered, and Marcella could clearly see the raw pain he had buried beneath his composed exterior. “I just stood there, watching them, my whole world crashing down.”

His voice cracked, the anguish etched across his face pierced Marcella’s heart.

"I didn’t know what to feel. It was like everything hit me at once—jealousy, anger, betrayal. I had fought for my life, survived that hell, only to come back to find my wife with another man, carrying his child.” He shook his head, his words faltering as the memories overwhelmed him. “It felt like a knife twisting in my chest, seeing them like that. How could she move on so quickly? I thought... I thought she’d wait for me.”

He took a shuddering breath, and for a moment, Marcella felt the depth of his heartbreak as if it were her own—the raw pain of a man who had given everything, only to feel it wasn’t enough.

“But then there was shame too,” he added quietly, his voice breaking again. “Guilt... for not being there. For what my children had gone through while I was gone. And I realized... I had no right to be angry. She had done what she had to do, and my children were safe.” He paused, his eyes distant. “I had nothing to offer them, Marcella. I wasn’t even in a position to raise my own children, much less another man’s child.”

Marcella felt a lump rise in her throat as she watched him wrestle with his emotions. His pain filled the space between them, a sorrow so deep it threatened to drown her with it. She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for him—to return from war, from captivity, only to find his life, his family, had moved on without him. While her past was buried, his still haunted him at every turn.

"And the worst part?” Mitch’s voice broke, barely a whisper. “I was afraid—afraid that even if I did go to her, she wouldn’t want me back. That she’d still choose him... over me.”