Page 147 of Healing Eleanor

“Oh, Synulya,” she whispers. “Does Kasper dictate your life now?” Her thumb brushes beneath my chin, lifting my gaze to hers. “And it isn’t your job to fix her. That’s God’s part. Yours is to be there. To love her. That is enough. You’re carrying burdens that were never meant to be yours.” Her tone mellows. “And I know how you punish yourself over Daria. But she was not your fault. You were thirteen. How could you have known what she needed?”

Pressure builds in my chest.

She continues, her voice steady. “Daria and Eleanor are not the same. The difference is, you had no clue what Daria needed, but with Eleanor, you do. And yet you shut her out, trying to protect a job. Instead, you should put your fears of Kasper’s threats aside and go to her.”

I lick my bottom lip, sitting back in my seat, chewing on it nervously. “It’s been so long… I’m sure she doesn’t even care to see or hear from me now.”

Mama coughs lightly. “Oh, Nik, you haven’t been one to self-loathe in so long—don’t start now.”

“I’m not self-loathing, I’m being practical,” I say, averting my gaze.

“Sure,” Mama murmurs, a weak smile tugging at her lips. “Just promise me one thing.”

My stomach knots. “What is it?”

“Not until you promise me first.”

I sigh. “Alright, I promise. Now what is it?”

Her smile deepens ever so slightly. “Promise me you won’t give up on love, even if it challenges you.” She draws a shallow breath. “And promise me you’ll still seek God, even when His answers are unclear.”

Something restless stirs beneath my ribs. “I promise.” I lift her hand and kiss it, holding on longer than I mean to. “Even if I promise, it doesn’t make it any less hard,” I whisper.

“My dear boy, life was never meant to be easy.” She presses her lips faintly to my hand. “Doing the will of God will always come with obstacles, but it will always be worth it. Keep your eyes on Him, no matter what.”

“I know, Mama.” My voice cracks as I adjust her blanket, my throat raw with unsaid words. “I’ll keep praying.”

Her eyelids flutter, heavy. “Good. That’s all I want.”

I linger, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead, tucking her in as though she’s fragile glass. “I love you,” I whisper. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Her breath catches, softer than I’ve ever heard it. “I love you, Nikusha. Always.”

I stand a moment longer, watching the slow, uneven rise and fall of her chest. Something in me wants to stay, but instead, I force myself to leave, closing the door on the faint glow of her lamp.

I don’t want to go home. Four walls feels like a trap, and I need to talk to God properly. The kind of honest, messy, and raw conversation I’ve been avoiding. So I drive to the lake behind my parents’ house, the place I retreated to as a child whenever the world got too loud. My childhood sanctuary.

When I pull into the drive my father’s car isn’t there, and I breathe in relief. I trudge through the snow and dead grass, the cold nipping at my face, until I reach the shore. The lake is a sheet of glass dusted with white. It looks way too peaceful for how I’m feeling right now.

I brush snow off a flat rock and sit, letting the quiet settle around me. For the first time in days, I draw in a full breath and don’t feel it catch. I fish my phone from my pocket and switch it off, not wanting to be disturbed. All I want is the lake, the sky, and God. To say all the things I’m too ashamed to say out loud.

“God, I don’t know your plans,” I breathe into the cold air, the words feeling tired from being said so many times. “Help me trust them.” I pick up a flat stone and roll it between my fingers, the motion steadying me. “I’m so lost, God.”

I hurl the rock and watch it skitter across the iced over lake until it finally stops. I find another stone and hold it for a beat, the weight of it pointless and grounding all at once. “I haven’t been this broken since Daria,” I admit, voice raw. “It’s like living the worst of it again.”

I close my fist around the second rock. “I love Eleanor,” I say, the confession tasting like something I’ve swallowed a thousand times but never quite believed. “And right now…” The words fall slowly and honestly. “I wish I didn’t.”

I throw the second rock, and it nicks the ice, sending a hairline crack spreading outward. “God, guide me,” I whisper. “All I want—all I can think about—is her.” I pick up another stone. “I believe You sent her to me, so I can’t understand why any of this has to happen. Why can’t it just be easy? Haven’t I had enough?” I fling the rock harder than I mean to. It strikes the same fissure, widens it, and then sinks into the black water beneath the ice.

I lie back on the flat rock and stare at the stars, moonlight spilling across the ice as the cold air gnaws at my face. “I don’t know where to go after this… but Your will over mine. Always.” I take a deep breath. “Amen.”

I stay there for hours, or long enough that the chill seeps through my coat and the sky grows darker still. I keep throwing stones, each small splash like a secret unraveling. I talk into the night, praying for a way forward, desperate for any scrap of reprieve.

“Nikolai!” A voice tears through the woods, sharp against the silence.

I turn, scanning the trees. Branches crack, bushes shake, and then my father emerges, striding toward me with a storm etched across his face.

I rise from the rock, meaning to meet him halfway, maybe even ask what’s wrong, but he closes the distance faster than I expect.