Timeless Love

A day to remember 💭

Warnings: death, verbal bullying (if you're struggling with any kind of bullying, please, please reach out to someone you trust and who is able to help. You're never alone), English is not my first language and I apologize for any mistake.
Word count: 5k

Fall of 1928

SARAH'S P.O.V

"Steve, honey, come back inside. It's getting dark." I quickly wrap my cardigan around my freezing body when a cold breeze hits me once I open the front door. Throughout the day, when the sun is shining, it's still very warm outside but once the sun begins to set, it gets really cold. Making it clearer with every passing day, that Fall is here and Winter just around the corner. Being a single mother is not easy, especially in the 20s, with society looking down on you. It's a constant struggle. I navigate through each day, working tirelessly to provide for my child. The lively atmosphere of the Roaring Twenties doesn't mask the challenges. Nights filled with jazz bring both joy and worry. Amidst the glamor, I'm a solo act, dealing with the practical complexities of survival for my family. Ever since my husband died, back in 1918, I've been alone with Steve. I even gave birth to him on my own. And although the birth of your baby is supposed to be the happiest moment in your life, I didn't cry happy tears when I held him in my arms for the first time and looked into his gorgeous blue eyes.

Don't get me wrong, of course I was over the moon of finally holding my son, but as soon as I looked into Steve's face, I saw his father. Steve has so many features of his father, Joseph. He still has, I see it every time he smiles at me.

As soon as Joseph and I found out we'd be having a baby, we started to imagine our life as a family of three. Throughout my whole pregnancy, Joseph was at the fronts of Italy, fighting in the Great War alongside other soldiers. We wrote thousands of letters. I would write him how I was feeling and what progress my pregnancy made. He would tell me how excited he was about having a child. He never once told me about the situation at the front or at his military camp. I never blamed him for that. They spoke enough about it on the radio, I could only imagine how he was feeling.

Then, two months before my due date, his letters stopped. I've spent many nights laying in our bed, thinking about the worst that could have happened. And yet for some reason, I never imagined the Colonel standing at my front door, telling me that my husband had passed away in the hospital because of mustard gas.

No one even informed me that he was in the hospital. I couldn't say goodbye. And he never got to meet his son. And Steve never his father, besides from pictures and stories.

Steve says goodbye to his friends and runs into my direction. I wave at y/n who waited until Steve reached me. She is a sweet little girl and it breaks my heart in what kind of condition she lives in. I've told her mom, Lilith, hundreds of times that she needs to leave Michael. For the sake of her and the children. But Lilith is stubborn and still believes that Michael will find the right path again. I can only hope she is right in the end. Right now, it doesn't look like it.

Y/n lingers on the spot until she is being pulled away by Mary. I chuckle softly and help Steve with his scarf and jacket. "Wash your hands, dinner is almost ready," I tell him as I hang the jacket up on the rack. I feel his hands wrapping around my waist and he presses a sweet kiss on my arm, it's the closest he could reach, before he makes his way to the bathroom.

Gosh I love my boy. He is so sweet and considerate with everybody and even for his young age, he helps me around with the chores. He just makes my day better with this sweet smile of his. He's like a ray of sunshine and some days I really seek this kind of positivity. There are a lot of days where I wake up and the cold spot beside me in bed makes all my insides scrunch together.