Chapter 44Ronan
44
Ronan
I t had been one week since he had seen, touched, or spoken to Eden. Days bled into nights, but time seemed to stand still for him. Every memory, every moment, now felt like fragile fragments of a dream. He questioned their reality as if he had dreamt them or conjured them in his mind. He couldn’t shake the sound of her laughter, the feel of her touch, or the way her eyes used to light up when she would see him.
He used to think her eyes reflected the love he felt for her, but now doubt crept in more and more each day. The pain settled into a dull, constant ache—a hollow feeling that refused to go away. In his chest, that void stood open like a black hole, devoid of light or signs of life.
After Eden ended things, he was a wreck and found himself on his parents’ doorstep without even realizing how he got there. Sadie was the one who found him, slumped over on the front steps. She didn’t say a word—just pulled him into a hug, comforting him the way he’d always done for her.
Now, a week later, he was back at his parents’ house because Sadie insisted he come over for a family dinner. It had been seven days since everything fell apart, and he’d spent every single one of them tormenting himself by watching the documentary footage over and over. He could see it so clearly—the connection between him and Eden.
He was prepared to be patient, to wait for her to come to terms with her own feelings. Maybe she never would be ready, but he was willing to wait, for however long it took.
Ronan raised his hand to knock on the front door, but it swung open to reveal his little sister sporting a huge grin. He raised his eyebrows at her, and Sadie schooled her face, but her lips were twitching with a smile. Why was she so chipper? Did Target have a sale on candles or something?
“Come in!” Sadie's voice came out unreasonably loud; she grimaced slightly at the volume. Ronan chose to ignore her awkwardness and stepped into the living room. His Dad and Mom were sitting on the couch with a huge bowl of popcorn between them.
“Where’s Grandad?” Ronan asked, glancing around the room.
“Uh... dentist appointment,” his mom said, her voice a little too high-pitched. She cleared her throat quickly, her fingers fiddling with the TV remote.
"At eight o'clock on a Friday night?" Ronan arched an eyebrow, his skepticism growing.
“Yup.” Her voice came out even higher pitched, almost a squeak. She settled her body further into the couch cushions, seeming to hide. Why were they being so weird?
"Come sit, Son," his father's gruff voice called out from the couch.
"Sit? What about beef stew?" Ronan was starving, his stomach grumbling. He had skipped dinner expecting a home-cooked meal.
"Come on, Ronan, hush and join us," his father said, raising the volume of the TV.
"This had better not be 'The Bachelor' again," he grumbled, reluctantly settling onto the soft sectional couch.
"Oh, please. You always get sucked in when I watch it," his mother said, shooting him a playful look.
Ronan sat in a state of numbness, his gaze fixed on the commercials playing on the TV. As he turned to his left, he noticed his parents sitting stiffly, not a single joke or snarky comment. It was weird. Then, shifting his attention to the right, he saw Sadie practically vibrating with excitement next to him. What on earth was going on?
After a few more minutes of commercials, a talk show host introduced the next segment: a musical performance by a surprise guest. The camera cut to a shadow-shrouded figure, her silhouette instantly recognizable to him.
Eden .
His stomach dropped the moment he saw her, his palms instantly clammy. His heart thundered in his chest as his eyes locked onto the screen. Eden was there, holding her guitar—the same one he’d watched her play so many times over the past few weeks. The lighting was low, except for the spotlight that bathed her in a warm glow, the camera zoomed in like the world revolved around her.
She looked otherworldly, almost unreal, under the stage lights. Her glossy chestnut hair shimmered, and her lashes cast soft shadows on her cheeks as she gazed down at the strings.
It felt like someone had ripped his heart out of his chest. Seven days. Seven days since he’d last seen her, and now here she was, but only on a screen. The distance, the inability to reach out, to touch her, to hear her voice—it was pure agony. And yet, he couldn’t look away. There was something almost euphoric about seeing her alive, breathing, and making music, just as she always had.
The audience quieted. The melody began to unfold, soft and haunting, her electric guitar carrying a clean, crisp sound with just a hint of reverb.
It was a song he didn’t recognize, one she must have written after their time together. It was different from anything he’d heard her play before—slower, with intricate, layered chords. Her fingers glided over the strings with precision, adding a faint vibrato that sent a shiver down his spine.
She started singing:
Many ships are lost within sight of the harbor
Love dampened under the depths of midnight waves
Millstone around my neck
Falling deeper than any shipwreck
Inhale water into the lungs
Words deadened on the tip of a forked tongue
You can be my martyr
Or lay like the blood after the slaughter
As the tide wears the fawn sands,
And with my heart more jaded than the rocks beneath
Your reverent hands held my countless dreams
Her voice, like a velvet whisper, filled the air as she sang. You could hear a pin drop in the audience; everyone seemed as captivated as he was.
He knew how hard it was for Eden to trust in what they had. She’d spent her life bracing for abandonment. Ending their relationship hadn’t been about rejecting him; it was her way of protecting herself. A defense mechanism to guard against the hurt she believed was inevitable. It was self-preservation. Survival.
Your heart the casualty in the battle with my naivety
Burning bright, the most brilliant commodity
You're an angel conspiring with a devil in disguise
Covered in scar tissue but I am finally baptized,
By your lips when you called me "baby"
His eyes stayed glued to the screen as he watched her fingers move effortlessly over the strings, pulling out a melody that was both haunting and beautiful. His stomach twisted when she sang the words, "Devil in disguise." It hit him instantly—that was something he’d said to her, not long ago, a confession in the heat of the moment.
The realization hit hard: she was there, on national TV, pouring her heart out in a song that felt like it was meant just for him. Every note carried her talent and passion, undeniable and mesmerizing. The camera shifted to Beck on the drums, creating a soft, eerie backdrop with a felt mallet. Then back to her. Her eyes, first closed in focus, opened and fixed on the lens. At that moment, it felt like she was looking straight at him, singing every word directly to his soul. His heart raced, and he couldn’t breathe as the song built, pulling him deeper into its spell.
Did you believe I'd falter?
Let this storm tear our love asunder
Did you think that I would surrender?
That the roots could be shaken, turned to dust?
As if storms could make the pillars fall
Why would I cower before any storm was drawn when,
My life of tempests from the very dawn
And whatever remains of me after the gale is yours to keep
Chills raced over his body as he sat there, completely captivated by her. Everything about her—her voice, her mind, her presence—was beautiful. Her words were pure poetry, and while her voice was steady and controlled, the vulnerability in each lyric and chord was raw and unfiltered. This wasn’t just a performance; it was a truth she was laying bare, a declaration that despite everything, she wasn’t going to let this slip away. She wasn’t going to let him slip away. His chest tightened, and a wave of relief almost made his body sag.
The guitar’s rhythm picked up, each strum growing bolder and more resolute. Then came a split-second pause, followed by a burst of light as the stage transformed. The camera revealed a smaller figure stepping into view beside Eden—a fiddle joining the guitar and drums.
The camera panned, and there he was: Ronan’s Grandad, standing next to Eden, his well-worn tweed news cap perched perfectly on his head, the glossy wood of his fiddle catching the light. Ronan’s jaw dropped as he stared at the screen, then turned to Sadie. She was grinning, tears shimmering in her eyes.
“How is this even happening?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
His attention snapped back to the screen. Grandad’s weathered hands glided effortlessly over the fiddle strings. The music swelled, layers of sound weaving together into something both haunting and breathtaking. Eden’s voice soared, reaching the upper register with a raw, powerful beauty that left him breathless.
I would walk with bare feet to surrender at your boots
Swim through any frozen sea, I would burn on the funeral pyre
Anything for your love and desire
Sink me deep in the seabed
Hell could try to hold me down
But I'll breach my way to the light
Through the abyss, to hear your lips call me "baby"
As the song built to its peak, a wave of emotion crashed over him, leaving him overwhelmed. It wasn’t just music - it was a declaration, a confession of love, and a reminder of everything they’d shared. The fiddle and drums eased into silence, leaving only Eden’s gentle guitar strumming and her soulful, honeyed voice lingering in the air, each note wrapping around him like a memory.
I forgave the world when you touched me
I met you and now I’m dreaming
You awaken lanterns with your light
And cast demons fleeing into the endless night
Your shadow dancing on my ceiling like a ghost
Haunting me when I sleep
Absolve me until I’m back in your arms
When the final note faded, the studio burst into applause. Eden’s smile lit up the room, but Ronan could see the tears in her eyes. His heart swelled with relief and joy, and before he knew it, his own eyes were welling up. She still cared. This wasn’t the end of their story. It was just the beginning.
Her performance had left him speechless—words couldn’t capture the storm of emotions building inside him. But when words failed, art spoke. She’d proven that with every chord, every lyric.
Ronan knew exactly what he had to do next. He had something he’d been working on, and Eden’s performance had given him the clarity he needed. Now, it was just a matter of convincing his boss to get on board. With renewed determination, he was ready to make it happen.