Reflections on Romeo, Juliet, and Self-Love

Chapter 17: "Shadows of Twilight: Unspoken Words"

We gently settled her in the backseat of the SUV, and as the engine roared to life, she drifted into a deep, merciful sleep. The silence that followed was a welcome relief; no more endless chatter about her imaginary pirate and his elusive ship. Twilight had begun its slow descent, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting the sky in a mesmerizing palette of colors. The clouds, finally parting after two relentless days of rain, danced across the sky, their edges tinged with every hue imaginable. The scene was breathtaking, like something out of a movie where everything falls into place, leading to a serene, picture-perfect ending.

As I gazed out the window, watching the clouds move southward, they gradually unveiled the moon's soft glow. The transformation was slow, almost magical, as the sky cleared, as if it had never been burdened by the storm. It was a masterpiece, a gentle reminder that nature holds answers to questions we often forget to ask. If only we paused to look up at the sky more often, we might find the clarity we seek, but we miss out by not truly listening.

Lost in these thoughts, I found myself scribbling in my journal, stealing glances at the moon every few minutes. My mind wandered into deeper questions—what would my life be like if I had grown up with a different father? What if I had been the girly, shy type instead of who I am now? Would I still be drawn to the military life, facing missions that could change me forever? Who would I meet along the way, and would I even survive to find the answers to these questions? But of course, I could never know.

The next morning arrived with a jolt. "Carter? Girls, where are you? Ugh..." Frustration bubbled up as I called out, searching for them. I found them in the bathroom, all of them getting ready for something I couldn't quite figure out. "Good morning," I grumbled, "care to explain? I've been calling for you, why do you always have to get my pulse racing?"

"Wooow, wooow, I mean wow," one of them teased. "We don't make your pulse race—you're just always on fire, like, all the time."

"Carter, that doesn't even make sense."

"Says you," he shot back.

"Good morning, Faith," another voice chimed in. "Sorry we didn't wake you. You were out cold, and we didn't want to disturb you just to say goodbye. We thought some peace and quiet would be good after the headache Carter's drunken mouth caused."

"Whoa, hold on—what goodbye? What are you talking about?"

"Oh no," someone muttered, "I think somebody said something they weren't supposed to."

"What? Why? I'll pack quickly—"

"No, Faith. Just the three of us are going. You're staying behind."

"W-h-a-t???" I felt my heart sink as I stumbled out of the bathroom, taking in the scene around me. Everyone was preparing for their missions, tears of joy or sorrow glistening in their eyes. But I was left in stunned silence, struggling to comprehend. What did Carter and Angel mean by someone saying something they shouldn't have? And why was I being left out? I'm the best soldier they have, both technically and financially prepared for anything a mission might throw at me.

Why does my father always have to interfere with everything, especially my dreams? I never made him give up any of his, so why me?

"Colonel Faith, there you are. I've been looking for you," a voice called out, breaking my thoughts. I quickly wiped my eyes and followed the voice, still reeling from the whirlwind of emotions.