If e'er the waters were of use
Why now their use forego?
You may not live another year,
All's mortal here below.
-

22nd March, 1947

11:26 P.M.

D̶e̶a̶r̶ D̶i̶a̶r̶y̶

Dear Edmund,

You're dead. I want to die.

Love, Sanya

•

29th March, 1947

10:43 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

I'm in Finchley now. Yes, I know that I definitely should not be travelling in my 'condition'- but I had to be here. It's Peter's funeral and Lucy's funeral in two days- and yours, too. Your widow should be there, don't you think?

Is there any chance your deaths were just an April Fools' joke?

Look, another insipid bit of hope.

Shouldn't I have learnt by now? Hope and love just lead to torture and pain. So much fucking pain.

Love, Sanya

•

1st May, 1947

9:34 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

I had false travails today- they are called Braxton Hicks in this world. I didn't even feel the pain until I had to stand up, and even then, it wasn't as bad as I remembered. I think I'm numb forever, now.

Dr. Wright came over to check on me, though he's not supposed to make house calls.

I guess he pities me. Everyone does. 'Poor girl', 'she's only nineteen', 'married too young, and lost just as young'. People said this at your funeral. Or memorial. Can't remember. All the grief and crying kind of blurs together.

I tried to not listen, obviously, and disassociate like always. But even though I'm basically hard of hearing, I kept hearing them. I feel like smothering them.
Might have been the voices in my head, now that I think of it.

Love, Sanya

•

13th May, 1947

12:00 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Happy Anniversary, my darling.

Love, Sanya

•

18th May, 1947

6:19 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

The twins are here. They came on the fifteenth- sorry I didn't tell you that day itself, but my diary was at home, and it took Bonnie a while to find and bring it.
They're here. Our again babies. 'One of each' everyone keeps saying happily, but I'm just glad they're healthy. The birth was difficult, and they could have died.

Maybe they should have.

I know that's a terrible thing to say, but all I have are terrible thoughts nowadays. At least something good would have come of them dying, though- they could have been with you and their siblings, then.

Their names are Emeraude Lailah and Syed Holmes. I didn't have any deeper intentions with the names at the beginning- but then it just came to me one dawn. Emeraude for Jem, because emerald is a gem, and for Selene, as green was her favourite colour, and for Seraphina, because the middle name is from a poem, and she loved poems; and Syed Holmes, for my family's tradition of 'S' and for your love of mystery and for how utterly noble your siblings have always been, from the first moment I met them. Also, of course, the 'E' for you, and the 'S' for me.

You would probably have come up with better names. My names are likely to get them teased in school.

They are so beautiful, our babies. They got that from you, I know. Even dead, even a corpse, you were so absolutely beautiful it took my breath away.

I begged your God to let you come back. I was more than willing to sacrifice my life to revive yours.

Did not work, clearly.

I love you. I love you so much. And the babies love you, too, even though they will never know you.

Love, Sanya

•

6th July, 1947

12:59 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Headache. Headache. My skull will burst. We're out of paracetamol. I would like to say that I'll go to sleep and then never wake up, but I just know that I won't sleep at all.

I don't even know why I'm writing this. I'm going to keep banging my head on a wall where the babies cannot hear.

Love, Sanya

•

7th August, 1947

3:18 A.M.

D̶e̶a̶d̶ Dear Edmund,

I accidentally misspelt the 'dear' as 'dead'. Funny, right? I started laughing for a minute, and then I sobbed for so long the babies' nap got over.

They're just in front of me now, in their playpen, waving their hands and bumping into each other. Sadly, the only time they take notice of their stuffed toys is when they're sleepy. I have to feed them soon, and they'll sleep again in about an hour. You should see how cute they are when they're drowsy. They have big eyes like you, and I think they already furrow their wispy brows like you do. Did.

Agh.

Love, Sanya

•

15th August, 1947

7:01 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

India is independent. She's free.
Let's move there, husband. Let's take our babies and go to Calcutta. Or some sleepy town near to it. It'll be warm and hopefully we'll find something similar to Rihaayan shawls for you there.
I have to go. Sy is crying, which means Emmy will cry soon, and there's no one else but me to look after them.

Love, Sanya

•

27th August, 1947

6:02 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

My breasts are so sore. My nipples feel CHEWED UP. I definitely have to start combining bottle feeding with the breastfeeding for the twins, or my tits may fall off. I do not want that to happen, I really like them.

Love, Sanya

•

5th September, 1947

6:21 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Guess what day it is?
You're wonderful with guesses, but I want to say it still- it's your birthday! Your twentieth.
We had a cake for you, a little one I ordered from the bakery that opened next to my bookshop. It was nice, though Emmy and Sy both made faces when they licked some of the frosting. Sorry to disappoint your peace up in Heaven or the Meadowlands or Aslan's Country, or whatever, but I think that- despite me craving chocolate while I was pregnant with them- they got my dislike of chocolate.

Happy Birthday. I know you are forever nineteen, but we'll always celebrate your birthday, and your sister's and brother's, too.

Love, Sanya

•

6th September, 1947

4:44 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

You are in Heaven, right? Yes? You have to be! You must- you must, please, if you have to die, you deserve eternal peace and comfort, not the pains of purgatory or the horrors of Hell.

I am sleepy. Can you sleep in Heaven? Or does insomnia continue there, too? I want to sleep next to you.

Sometimes I feel like crawling into your grave and nestling with your corpse. I would die of suffocation, and our dead bodies would be together for eternity- as we are and were supposed to be. No one would know, because they could never dig up the graves.

Well, unless we were suspected of being vampires. Which would never happen, because I definitely don't want to be immortal.
I want to be dead, and be with you. I want to be dead with you.

I want that, and I think that, but then I fall asleep from exhaustion.

Love, (very tired) Sanya

•

1st October, 1947

11:11 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Are Lucy and Peter happy?

Love, Sanya

•

20th October, 1947

7:29 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Had my moonblood. First one since I got pregnant. I do not like it. I forgot how much I hate it. It's been MONTHS since I gave birth- five, I think- it didn't happen once. I was hoping they would never return again. Alas.

Love, Sanya

•

30th October, 1947

2:28 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

This is the second year since I have come to this world that I had to spend my brother's, father's, and mother's birthdays without you by my side.
The first time was when I was in Boston and you in Cambridge.

And now, the second time is because you are dead and I'm alive.

I wish I was dead.

I wrote to you on those days, but I forgot to ask you to tell them 'happy birthday' from me, shit.

I'll try to remember next time.

Oh, I think I told you this on the day, but I don't remember, so saying it again- I told Bonnie about the miscarriage on the anniversary of it. We were on the telephone, and she was comforting me, but then I think she started crying, so she ended the call.

I'm glad I told her.

Love, Sanya

•

12th November, 1947

1:19 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Babies are starting to eat solid food now. They have an aversion to every vegetable except potato, and now I am absolutely and completely sure that they indeed are MY children.

Love, Sanya

•

20th November, 1947

12:00 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Please wish our Seraphina a happy birthday from me.

Love, Sanya

•

2nd January, 1948

2:06 P.M.,

Dear Edmund,

I want you. I want and need you so badly right now. I don't understand it, I don't, I have felt so deadened this past eight months, but I just- I want you. I want you in my arms, I want you to whisper sweet everythings as you finger me, I want to lick you, and I want you to kiss me as you fuck me.

By the Heavens, I need you, and you're not here, and you'll never be here, and I want to cry and I want to orgasm and I want to die.

And now I'm crying again, excellent. As though the throbbing in my clit isn't painful enough NOW MY HEART HURTS, TOO!

Love, (very sexually frustrated) Sanya

•

2nd January, 1948

3:12 P.M.,

Dear Edmund,

I know you used to take cold showers to battle your lust, so I had a very cold shower, too, and I am still shivering.
The cold shower did not work, so I ended up locking myself in our supply closet and reading Lady Chatterley's Lover. Didn't work again.

Then I undressed completely and imagined you reading it to me, while doing everything written there.

It definitely did not live up to the real you, and your starry freckles and your artful fingers and mouth and tongue and cock and your moans- but it worked.

Thank you.

Love, (satisfied and grieving) Sanya

•

20th January, 1948

2:56 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Yes, yes, it's my birthday, don't get all excited, I am not.

One good thing happened today, though- did you know that I actually-

Wait a minute, the front door is opening. What? Why? Do you think it's a burglar? Good Heavens, if they make any noise and wake up our babies, I am going to put their heads through a wall.

Write you later, husband, if I am not arrested for homicide charges.

Love, Sanya

•

20th January, 1948

9:29 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

I wanted to properly write to you all day- no, the diary entry at three doesn't count- but Mina came in the afternoon (yes, it was her, not a burglar), and you know how all-demanding her presence is.
I could have written in the morning, but I was sleeping in.

No, I'm not joking, I actually slept in. That was the 'one good thing' I mentioned in my last entry.

It was unintentional sleeping, obviously- I just fell asleep on the floor of the nursery, probably around three or four in the morning, and I did not wake up until two in the afternoon. I was absolutely horrified, mostly because I was worried about how the babies were, but secretly I was elated. Forget sleeping in, I haven't slept more than- than an hour in ten months, I think. Since you died.

Anyway, I told myself that that was my birthday present- maybe from myself, not sure- and then I went to change Emmy's and Sy's diapers. Those were definitely not birthday presents.

Mina wanted to go out, but I said no. Several times. I think she wanted me to have some semblance of a life, or just for me to leave the house for an hour or more-but I can't. I just can't.
She also asked if I could ever move on from you. I lost my temper and shouted at her- but I'll tell you about that after folding up the laundry.

Anyway, like I said, she wanted to take me out, and I refused.

She finally relented and agreed to stay home with me. I cut the cake she brought, opened her present (amethyst earrings, which reminded me of Pax), and then we just sat in the drawing room. She talked a lot, and I listened, while also keeping an eye on what the babies were doing in their playpen.

Do you think she's right? That I should go out sometimes, leaving the babies alone with some nurse? That I should at least pretend to be alive?

I'm sure you think she's right. She is right, even I agree.

But it's hard. I've made a home of my pain and grief again, and I don't think I can bear leaving home once again.
I'll die anyway. Someday. Whether I have a proper life or not. Who cares?

But still- maybe I'll just head into the bookshop someday. That'll be something. Naomi and Alexander telephone every other day to let me know what's happening, but I haven't gone there in months. Self-imposed isolation includes even your own bookshop, I have learned.

You know- I had happy birthdays when I was a child. Genuinely, all joy, no pain or anxiety or some feeling of blankness. I mean, my childhood was sad and lonely, but I had some truly happy times.
But that went away as I started to grow up. I worried, I stressed, I hated myself most on that day. But- but the birthdays that were with you by my side- those were happy. Even better when I had my parents and brother, too.

Maybe I will sleep for longer than twenty minutes tonight- and maybe I will dream of a birthday with all the family I have lost, and perhaps I'll feel that childhood joy in that dream.

Perhaps.

Love, Sanya

•

28th January, 1948

5:40 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

I love you.

Love, Sanya

•

31st January, 1948

12:00 A.M.

Wish our Selene a happy birthday from her Amma, please.

Love, Sanya

•

14th February, 1948

10:02 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Bonnie proposed to Susan, and she said yes!
(By the Heavens, it feels very odd to use exclamation marks).

She just telephoned to let me know- I was just about to make an account of the inventory of the shop for next month, when the telephone rang.

They can't be actually married, unfortunately, as you know, but they're going to have a small ceremony with me and Mina and Bonnie's family. They'll wear white gowns and exchange rings, and probably say vows as well. Not sure when or where- Bon said that Susan was trying to think of locations where no one would report them to the police and which were pretty enough- but I assume it'll be by this year.

Hopefully Emeraude and Syed will be old enough to be flower-girl and flower-boy.

I'm happy for them. Susan and I aren't talking still, not since last Christmas, but she deserves happiness and love more than she knows. As does Bonnie- and they definitely make each other happy. They make each other so, so, so happy.
I wish they could get married for real. Legally. Be wives in every single way possible.

If only this had been a country in our world. They would have been that, so happily.

But we all know that it's not possible to have it all. And if one thinks that they have everything they could possibly desire- everything soon crumbles down to dust and blood and pain.

Oh, wait, I was supposed to call Susan to tell her congratulations, too...

Well, darling, wish me all the best for an awkward, but hopefully short, conversation with your sister.

And Happy Valentine's Day from your Moonshine, husband. I'll draw some hearts under this entry- you know, it's been years since I have drawn ANYTHING.

Love, Sanya

•

21st March, 1948

2:57 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

One year since the day that I lost you, and every day without you feels like a year. A year of drought, of terrible storms, and of so much sorrow I can't think of more metaphors.

Love (and grief), Sanya

•

21st March, 1948

9:14 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Went to your grave today. For the first time- since your funeral.
I want you back so badly.
Come back. Please, Ed. Come home to me.

Love, Sanya

•

27th March, 1948

5:17 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Well. Clarke had his payback.

I went to Cambridge today (the university), to pick up some things Jonathan told me you'd lent him. He told me this about a year ago, but I had completely forgotten. You told me that he doesn't go home for Easter, so I went to his dorm.
Maude came back with me when I returned from Finchley day before, so the twins were with her. It was alright, they took their long nap at that time, I'll be back before they wake up.

Jonathan was there, I could hear noises- and I knocked, like everyone should. Then I knocked again. The noises became louder, and mind you, it was eleven in the morning, so it was very very very early, and I wasn't thinking clearly.

The door was locked, but I'm strong, so I twisted the doorknob until it opened-
To reveal my dear friend Clarkey on top of your dear friend Jonathan, shirtless and snogging.

They literally didn't even notice me!
Not until I started laughing. This is the first time I'm laughing since you died. It only lasted maybe two seconds, but I genuinely laughed.

They were mortified, and horrified, and terrified, and a few other 'fied's, but me telling them that I liked girls, too, seemed to calm them down.

Apparently, Clarke and Jonathan have been meeting since about a month after they met, that time when I surprised you on your birthday, and they kissed after your memorial, and started dating. No one else knows, just me, and I think they were glad to be able to tell someone.

They thanked me for being so understanding, and then told me to fix the doorknob and get out.

Love, Sanya

•

11th April, 1948

10:37 A.M

Dear Edmund,

SYED WALKED!!!

Love, Sanya

•

20th April, 1948

4:09 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

EMERAUDE WALKED (WITH A LITTLE ASSIST FROM HER BROTHER)!!!

Love, Sanya

•

20th April, 1948

4:16 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Yes, I remembered to note that down in the baby book. Shockingly, I'm remembering to note everything down.
Almost. Yeah.

Love, (mother-of-two-walking-babies) Sanya

•

26th April, 1948

12:02 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

A Happy Birthday wish to Peter Peyton, please.

Love, Sanya

•

13th May, 1948

5:30 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Happy Anniversary. I am a little tipsy. Susan came over to take the babies on a little trip. I got a little worried, and finally decided to have a little taste of a few bottles of some alcohol we got for our anniversary. Our wedding I mean. Haha.

I am a little drunk. Did I say that already? Am I saying little a little too much?

You know what's not little? How much I miss you. I miss you so much not even a little bit of alcohol can make me forget it.

And also your cock. Absolutely NOT little. Big, actually, very. It is JUST PERFECT to fit in me and make come. Make me come. Cum? I don't know. I miss that, too. Your cock. And freckles. I even miss your paleness.

Why are hens called cocks? That's a little odd.

Our babies are so little. They'll be one in a little days. Three days. No, two. How?

I'll cry now. I cry a log. Lot. Over you, usually. About you.
Why did you leave me?

Love, Saaaaaaaanya

•

16th May, 1948

1:28 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

It was the twins' first birthday yesterday- and I decided to take them out for a special day. I know they won't remember it, but they're almost always stuck in the house because of me, and I thought they deserved to have as much fun as one-year-olds are physically capable of on their birthday.

I took them to the Zoo. The London Zoo, obviously, the one I worked at.
And, consequently, they had their first train ride, too.

They were absolutely calm through it all, just lying in their prams and looking around as much as they could without sitting up. Not me.

This was the first time I was on the train since- I don't even remember. 1946, probably. Even when I went to Finchley for your funeral, it was in a car- though that was more because I was pregnant, than because the love of my life had been killed in a train crash. It was in a car that the twins and I went to Finchley in March, too.

Anyway, it was hard to get the prams onto the train, but we managed that- and after that, I was really jumpy and on the verge of throwing up every single second I was on the train. It's not possible to sprint with twin prams, or possible for me to sprint in any possible condition- but as soon as the train reached the station, I was off it like the Flash.

Oh, but I forgot about the train as soon as we got inside the Zoo- Emmy and Sy were transfixed in a SECOND. I think they thought all the animals were just stuffed toys which could move, and they kept trying to wriggle out of their pram so they could grab the animal and cuddle them like they do their plushies when they're sleepy. Though I know some of the animals would have been very happy to do that, especially since some of them still remember me- oh, by the way, they've got a new exhibit for wolverines! Though, I'm not sure how new since it's been ages since I have been to the Zoo.

We walked around the Zoo (that is, I pushed the prams all around) and around one in the afternoon, we sat down somewhere near the tortoises so I could feed the twins and get some rest for my aching feet, too.
AH, MY FEET. MY WHOLE LEGS. MY SPINE. MY SHOULDERS. IN SO MUCH PAIN.
They're still hurting, even now! They were so much worse when we reached home, and I simply could not have sat in the rocking chair again.

As soon as I put the babies down to sleep, I staggered to our bedroom and just lay there for hours. I'm still here, actually. I only left the room once, about an hour ago, to get a piece of bread and to get my diary.

The trouble started at a sea lion show. The show itself was wonderful, and left me wondering why the animal kingdom didn't already take over this world- and the babies liked it too, very much. Too much. They clapped so much their hands became red and they started to hurt- and once Emeraude and Syed realised how much their palms hurt, they started to cry.

And they did not stop.

Not when I bought them hats with giraffes on them, or when I showed them tiny meerkats- they kept wailing. Emeraude had found some peanuts, and Syed decided to throw them at a monkey cage. I didn't even know that babies COULD throw- I mean, the peanuts didn't go into the cage, just not the ground, and he might just have dropped them a little energetically- but it was kind of throwing! And that almost drove the monkeys into a frenzy.

A guard actually came over to ask us to leave- but he recognised me from the few weeks I worked here, and he just took us to some hall instead, where I could calm our babies down. The hall had been under construction, but it had halted for some time, and so it was cordoned off from the general public and perfectly safe. I thought the guard was going to stick around, in case I needed help- but he practically fled as soon as I started to unbutton my blouse.

Probably a good thing, I don't want anyone but you to see my breasts. Well, the babies, too, but that is in a very different context.

I did manage to calm them somewhat, but it was impossible to get them on the train again, so I somehow hailed a taxi (is hailed the right word?) and went to Finchley.

Maude was beyond delighted (and shocked) when we showed up, but she did an admirable job in covering that up. Not Bonnie, she just immediately squealed seeing us and spent the entire evening making faces at the babies to make them laugh. No wonder all her students love her.

(I did tell you that she would be hired as a teacher on a permanent basis from next term, right?)

Grandma got a large cake delivered within two hours (though the twins and I had already cut one in the morning, before leaving), and Emmy and Sy spent twenty minutes trying to blow out the candles. (They couldn't.)

I had packed enough supplies to last till tomorrow, so now we're staying the night at the Rainsford place. It's Sunday now (after midnight), and maybe I will treat myself to another sleep-in.

Maybe. I doubt it. Anxiety will wake me up.

Love, Sanya

•

30th May, 1948

5:45 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Emeraude said her first word today- it was 'Mumma'. I might have cried a little. We weren't around for Jem's first word, Sel's was 'Papa', and Sera's was 'boo' (well, book). This is the first time one of our children has- has had me as their first word.

I cried a lot.

I think she said something that might have been 'boyi' (book in the Rihaayan tongue), but it also might just have been bye.
I choose to believe the former, and so I might have cried at that, too. Our baby speaking the language of my home.

Love, Sanya

•

7th June, 1948

12:00 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Please wish our sweet Jem a happy birthday from his Mumma.

Love, Sanya

•

16th June, 1948

2:39 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Syed said his first word an hour ago. He saw a very bright red car from the window while I was feeding him mashed potatoes for lunch, and he said 'car' very clearly.

I wonder where the car came from. Perhaps someone from a different country is visiting someone or has moved from there- I feel oddly curious about it.
(It's odd to feel other things.)

The car was a Maserati Pininfarina, I think. I know cars because I peruse some of the auto...mobile (I think) magazines that come in at the bookshop whenever I go there.

I'm going to go for a shower now, talk to you later, darling.

Love, Sanya

•

9th July, 1948

12:02 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

A Happy Birthday wish to my dear f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶ sister Lucy, please.

Love, Sanya

•

31st July, 1948

8:12 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

It's raining a lot today. So much rain, Ed! It was raining when I woke up around six- I didn't even realise that it was morning until I saw the time, the sky was so dark and grey. I usually have the time for rain in the back of my head- but I suppose I was too tired last night.

I love it.

So do the babies. We've been parked by the big window in the drawing room the entire day, and they've just been staring outside at the rain. If they were a little older, I would have dressed them in raincoats and taken them around the garden.

Well, perhaps for a rainy day next year.

Love, Sanya

•

9th August, 1948

11:57 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

I really need to pee, but I forgot to write that I love you today, and it's almost midnight, so this is the last chance.
I love you. I love you so much.

Love, Sanya

•

5th September, 1948

12:20 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Happy Birthday, darling. I love you.
Emeraude and Syed are starting to speak in little phrases, so I decided to try to teach them to say 'Happy Birthday, Daddy'. It worked, and they said it, though with some stammering and lisping and all- very understandable.

As soon as they said it, I burst into tears.

I couldn't stop. I tried, I did. But I couldn't. I cried and cried and cried. I was supposed to telephone Mina at around noon and ask her about her first day at Oxford (she's decided to study psychology, and she only had two morning classes today), but I was just crying so much.

And then the twins started crying, too, which is worse.

I think they ended up crying themselves to sleep, which is absolutely terrible for babies. I wanted to comfort them, but just as I couldn't stop crying, I could NOT get up from my spot on the floor.

I'm always on the floor while crying about you. Always on the floor.

After a while I stopped crying, I telephoned Mina, and she did not pick up- and then I went into the library room for the first time in- in a while. I read some fairytales, hoping that would calm me down.

But all it did was remind me of our fairytale, and that our ending was far from a happily ever after- and I was crying again soon enough.

Not a very joyous day for the ones you left behind, sadly. Hopefully it was more fun for you in the afterlife.

Love, Sanya

•

2nd November, 1948

7:50 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

There is a pimple on my neck. Why am I even having pimples anymore?
It hurts when I look down to read something. I HATE IT. It's literally hurting as I write this.

At least it's better than a pimple on my vagina. THAT'S happened to me a couple of times, and, let me just tell you, it is painful.

Love, Sanya

•

25th December, 1948

10:49 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Susan, Bonnie, Mina, Clarke, Ella, Sarah, and my grandmother were here for Christmas dinner. Mina and Bonnie are still here- they want to have a sleepover, it seems.

I don't know why they would come HERE, since they would get more jolly Christmas feasts anywhere else. I mean, I'm a gloomy hostess, AT BEST, and calling the cottage a mess would be too kind.

But I was glad for the roast turkey. My usual food is rice and a stew with beef and potatoes for lunch, and then just plain untoasted bread for dinner. Maybe with biscuits in the middle. I like those, but they get a little tiresome after a while.

I should go. I don't want Bon and Mina to try to get our babies involved in a pillow fight.

I hope they sleep in a different bed. You're the only one I've ever wanted to share a bed with.

Love, Sanya

•

12th March, 1949

4:59 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Susan and Bonnie have set a date for their wedding. It's on Christmas Day- I think Bonnie wanted it earlier, while Susan wanted it later, to have more time for planning, so they telephoned me and I suggested Christmas. They had their first kiss that day, so why not their wedding, too?

I'm maid of honour- well, matron, I suppose, since I'm not a maiden and am married- for Bonnie (expected, since I'm her best friend) AND for Susan (unexpected, since our relationship is still quite tense). They informed me that I'll have to go shopping for dresses with both of them. After which, I assume I'll have to hide the details of their dresses until their wedding.

Do you think they just asked me to get me out of the cottage? I go outside of Clematis at least once a month, but maybe that's not enough.

Maybe Mina put them up to it.

And I was asked to officiate, too, but the look on my face made them change their minds. Thank Heavens.

Oh, oh- there was something I wanted to tell you. Susan was talking about what kind of gown she wanted (yes, already) and she said, 'I was thinking of a style similar to back in-'- and then she broke off, shaking her head, and then changed the conversation very smoothly. It's BASICALLY nothing, but it's not NOTHING.

Maybe she will remember someday. Maybe not soon, maybe the twins will be grown and the age I currently am by then- but I think she will.

Perhaps it's just Lucy's optimism finally rubbing off on me. That took quite a while, if so.

Love, Sanya

•

1st July, 1949

6:21 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

I am so fucking sleepy. But a pigeon woke me up by repeatedly hitting our window with his beak AND MAKING THE HORRIBLE SOUNDS THAT PIGEONS MAKE around five-thirty.

I have never wanted to kill a bird more.
Anyway, realising sleep was gone for the day, I got up very unwillingly and went to check on our babies.

Their cribs are large and very roomy, but I think they might be getting a little big for cribs now- and maybe it's time to make the transition already. Do you remember when Sel was shifted to her own bed? I don't. And Sera sleeping next to me started just a couple months after birth, so that's no help.

I have to go shop for beds for our babies. Bhak. It is very hard to be a parent when you don't have countless staff and nurses and servants to help you.

I don't even know any furniture shops around here, and how am I supposed to know whether any of them sell baby furniture?

I wish there was something where I could just write in a query and I would have the answers immediately. Usually, I could do that with you- except I'd speak, not write- but some things, even you didn't know.

Perhaps someone will invent the contraption someday, but I doubt I'll be alive that long.

Love, Sanya

•

21st August, 1949

8:18 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

What the hell is a nursery- or, preschool?- and is it compulsory to send the twins there?

Love, Sanya

•

5th October, 1949

3:13 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

I just cut my hair. It's at my shoulders now.
I know you loved my long hair, but my head feels just slightly lighter now, with shorter hair. I look terrible, like always, but at least my head feels less of a burden. And you're dead, so it's not like you'll be putting your fingers in my hair ever again.

Love, Sanya

•

26th December, 1949

4:28 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

The wedding was really pretty. It was at one of the Rainsford mansions in Somerset (it's a nice place, though I did not really venture out of the house), where the family used to live.

It was a very small gathering, as you can tell. Mina was there, and Bonnie's parents and Alfie, her brother, and the doctor that saw Bon through all her medical things- but the shock was that Maude was there. Bonnie told her that she and Susan were in love and getting somewhat married a few months ago- something that I had NOT known. It took Gran a while, and some arguments, but she came around and she was the one who suggested the Rainsford mansion.

It was lovely. There was a flower arch in the garden and a white carpet, and Maude held Emmy's and Sy's hands as our babies threw flower petals- THEY WERE SO CUTE- and Bonnie's parents walked her in a white gown (with a mermaid skirt) down the aisle, while I walked Susan (in another white gown, with a ballgown skirt, I think she found it second-hand) down. Bonnie's dad officiated, and the vows were so- lovely. I don't remember it exactly, but it did feel like the vows between a very loving couple in a book.

We all left, and Susan and Bonnie have the mansion to themselves for the next- well, as long as they want. Not forever, Gran reminded them very strictly- but they could have a long honeymoon.

You know, husband, I think today was the first time in almost two years that I smiled about something that wasn't related to Emeraude and/or Syed.

I'm glad they have found love, and their happily ever after. I wonder if they'll move into the Pevensie house- I think they will. Bonnie practically lives there already.
I'm really tired, though. My very bones ache. Seriously. I think I'll be sleeping in our bed tonight...I need comfort.

Maybe Cobalt will show up. He hasn't, in a few days. I'm starting to get worried.

Love, Sanya

•

20th February, 1950

3:47 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Emeraude is very smart. I was trying to find a hidden apple in a cartoon in the newspaper, but I could not, but I showed it to Emmy while giving her some banana and she pointed it out in five seconds. Incredible, right!?
I wonder if she's a genius...

Syed has babbled very passionately at the magazines the few times I've taken the babies to the bookshop. He likes talking to the cartoons on the televisions, too, and he chats with Cobalt, too, whenever the kitty shows up. Maybe he'll (Sy, not Cobalt) be a reporter.

Eh, they're only two, who cares. I'm just happy they sleep through the night now.

I think Sarah is back with the groceries, I'll write to you later, Ed, bye.

Love, Sanya

•

30th June, 1950

3:49 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Jem, Selene, Seraphina. Jem, Selene, Seraphina. Jem, Selene, Seraphina.
I love them and I miss them, and please tell them sorry from me. Tell my brother, too- my little Bhai. And my parents.
And if you all are together, I'm glad. You deserve the togetherness so, so much.

Love, Sanya

•

1st August, 1950

6:12 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

I'm sick. I have not been sick in CENTURIES. I think it's something called the flu. I'll get well soon enough, but it's contagious, so Maude sent Ella over to manage the house. I am confined to our bedroom. I haven't seen the babies the entire day!

But it's nice to be in bed. Really nice.

I feel just TERRIBLE, physically, but it's quite comforting and calming to know that someone else has taken the reins for the time-being. It's like when I was High Queen, but since I was in Narnia, my parents effectively ruled Rihaaya. It's relaxing, I would say. My shoulders, which have been aching since I was a teenager the first time around, feel a little less in pain today. Also, being in bed and wrapped up in blankets and holding a bolster is just brilliant.

I wish you were here to take care of me, Ed. To be by my side, even though you shouldn't have been near me while I was sick. It's your hand I want to hold if I get sick, or if I'm wasting away, or if I'm dying.

I'm going to have some more paracetamol and try to sleep, I think.

Love, Sanya

•

6th December, 1950

12:12 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Happy First-Wedding Anniversary, darling husband. You don't know how badly I wish I could be back there.

It's funny, I never thought that I'd want to go back to that terrible and cold wedding. I hated you, and you wished so badly to be far away from me, and we both just wanted to sink through the ground when we exchanged rings.

But I would take that a thousand times- a billion times- over this. An unhappy marriage with only sex or widowhood after losing your beloved husband?
I don't know the answer to much, but I know the answer to that.

Love, Sanya

•

30th March, 1951

2:22 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Clarke called me, panicking about what to get Jonathan as an anniversary present. I had no clue, so we panicked together.
It was not a productive telephone call.

Love, Sanya

•

13th May, 1951

12:00 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Fifteen years of our second wedding. And five years of our third. We have too many wedding anniversaries, don't we, husband?

Love, Sanya

•

15th May, 1951

11:01 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

The babies had their fourth birthday today. They wanted a 'second Easter', so I painted some eggs, stuffed some chocolates in there, and put them in the garden. That kept them occupied the entire day, and then they fell asleep until suppertime.

I think this was their most peaceful birthday. For me, at least. I think Emmy might have punched Sy when he took one of her eggs, but I could be wrong, I wasn't wearing my glasses.

How are they four already? I can't believe it. I've honestly still not gotten over when Nick told us that I'm pregnant- and now the children that I was pregnant with are four. Four!

They'll be starting school from September... It's day school, but- but how am I going to manage without them?
What am I even going to do? I'll be truthful, part of me will be glad to have time wholly to myself- but Emeraude and Syed have basically been my life since you died.

Maybe I'll take the time to read.
(I know. What a shock.)
I'll finish a book a day. That would be a fun challenge, and I'll finally have something new to put in the 'Owner Recommends' bookcase.

By the way, Nick and Ms. Potts are going to have a baby. She's on complete bedrest already, because most women in their late thirties/early forties have an especially hard time during pregnancy.

If only that baby was born a few years ago, and they lived next door to us. I know Emmy and Sy have each other and probably don't understand this because they're only toddlers, but I think they might get rather lonely all alone with just their crazy mother.

Maybe school will help them make friends. That's pretty much the only thing it's good for.

Love, Sanya

•

8th July, 1951

6:34 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Bonnie had the last of her operations yesterday. She's still in recovery for a few weeks- thankfully, it's summer holidays for schools, so she gets time to rest without risking her job. She deserves to rest and just- stay in comfort.

I can't visit her for a few days (even Su isn't allowed, only her parents are)- but she's doing well, Alfie said that his parents said. No complications in the surgery, and she was strong throughout it all.

You know what, I do not care what her doctor says, I'm going to visit her tomorrow itself, RULES BE DAMNED. She doesn't have to wake up or play checkers with me or anything, I just need to know if she's truly alright.

I need to find a babysitter...

Love, Sanya

•

1st September, 1951

9:31 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

They went to school. I said goodbye to the last bits left of you.

I know I'll see them in a few hours, when I go to pick them up, and that Sy will hug me tight and Emmy will tug at my hair as she kisses my cheek, and I'll be with them again- but it's so painful.

You were once all I had left, and now they are.

I'll read Nineteen Eighty Four first. I've had it set aside for me in the shop for two years.

Love, Sanya

•

6th December, 1951

12:14 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Twentieth anniversary, darling.
I celebrated our first twentieth anniversary alone, and I have the same fate for our second.

Maybe you're doing the same in Aslan's Country?

I love you. I miss you. Two of the most cardinal truths of my life.

Love, Sanya

•

7th February, 1952

9:12 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

The King's dead. I forgot his name- I think Gregory?

Wait, no, Emmy is saying it's George, the little prodigy. She didn't read what I'm writing- no, this diary and all these letters to you are private, just between you and I- but I was saying 'King Gregory' out loud, and she heard.

His daughter, Elizabeth (yes, I remember THAT), will be crowned next year. She's the one with the corgis, so I remember her.

I know monarchs don't have much say in how this country is run, and frankly, I don't like any monarchy of this world- but I hope she stays for a while. Speaking from experience and as someone from a land that has a matriarchal monarchy- Queens rule better, whether with a consort or regent or alone. Your history books might confirm that my point works even for this world.

Not that I am going to search for them. I have had ENOUGH of history at school, thanks.

Love, Sanya

•

20th April, 1952

2:40 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

I think Syed looks like you. I'm not sure, honestly. Emmy has your nose, I think.

I keep looking at their faces when they sleep or don't fidget as badly as me the couple of times I went with you to church- and I cannot decide. Sometimes I feel like they don't look like us at all! Really different from how obvious it was that Sel took after you, and Sera took after me.

It's probably just because the twins are not even five yet. Maybe things will be more clear when they get older.

I think I'll make a note to compare their pictures with yours- with ours, I suppose- when they turn ten.

Maybe I'll telephone Susan and ask if there are any pictures of you when you were ten? She and Bonnie have arranged their house so tidily and with such care, she probably knows the details and location of each and every single object in it.
Whereas, in Clematis Cottage, I lose a hairbrush every week, and then they pop up in the most random places. I lost my purple hairbrush around my birthday, and I found it under the babies' beds today. How is that even possible?

Oh, hell, Sy has climbed up the piano and is trying to open the window again. He has good balance and the window's locked, and Emmy is giving him instructions in some language that is a mix of English and Rihaayan, so he's safe. Still, I should probably bring him back down.

Love, Sanya

•

27th August, 1952

3:12 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Tell me why Mina just showed up at the bookshop and then asked my permission to 'court' Meghan?

Apparently Meghan puts up at one of the Starling houses near her university, and they've become close. CLOSE. Mina calls her 'pretty Petal' now, not 'petulant Petal'.
My cocky friend Mina???? My little tall Meggie?????? I mean, she's twenty-one, she's not little anymore, BUT STILL. IT'S WEIRD. No, I don't care that three years of age difference isn't a big deal, it is to me!

Oh, now you're giving me examples of people we know having had such an age difference. Yes, I know my maternal grandparents were three years apart. Oh, STOP telling me that you and I were two years apart in Narnia- which is wrong, it was one year and five months!

Ugh, shut up.

Love, Sanya

•

17th September, 1952

7:29 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

I accidentally used a diaper instead of a pad, and I was halfway to the bookshop before I realised. Thankfully, Naomi had extra pads in her purse, and the shop next door has a bathroom.

Maybe it's time to throw out all the diapers. The babies are very well potty-trained, and haven't worn diapers for over a year- but I keep them just out of anxiety.

I really am a hoarder.

I know diapers are not built for moonbloods, but it was actually really comfortable against my skin, to be true.

Love, Sanya

•

10th December, 1952

10:16 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Jonathan moved to America. He has a job at some corporate law firm- Clarke was over today, and he told me. They've broken up, he said- Jonathan asked him to move with him, but Clarke can't leave his family and they both were too unsure of what future they had together. He says things might be worse for- for a couple like them there.

I told Clarkey to sleep over. I think he needs companionship.

Love, Sanya

•

17th January, 1953

6:58 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Mina is affianced (that's the word she used) to some Scottish...noble. She said a specific name and title, but I CANNOT remember it. She says she can't understand a thing he says, but that he's very rich and doesn't care what his wife does, so she's fine with it because she gets to do whatever she wants, which is how she likes to live her life and which also means she can be with Meghan.

Yes, they're still together. Rather happily, actually. Mina even lives in the same Starling estate that Meggie houses at.
I think Mina actually does intend on opening a psychology practice, but she'll never admit it.

Mina and the Scottish-man will probably marry sometime next year. She says she has to do it while Emmy and Sy are 'still adorable to use at weddings', whatever that means. They'll ALWAYS be adorable.
Oh, it was Viscount. The title, at least. No idea about the name.

I should call Meggie and ask how she is. I don't think it's nice to find out that your dear girlfriend is engaged to marry someone else.

I don't know how to comfort her, or even talk to her- but I'll try.

Love, Sanya

•

21st March, 1953

7:09 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

It has been five years without you. I'd survived so much longer without you last time, but it's difficult to get by now- the lack of hope does that, I suppose. I'm crying as I write this, I was crying when I woke up some time ago. I hate that I cry so much now.

Also, my first thought upon waking up was that I would be having a different headstone made for you. It will be the same style- shape- make- whatever, as your current one is, because I know you'd want a similar headstone as Lu and Pete- not that you'd want a headstone at all, OBVIOUSLY. The difference will be that this will have 'Loving brother, son, husband, father' on it. Those last two titles were infinitely important to you, my love, they should be there on that slab above where you rest.

I should check on our babies, it's their first day of Easter break and I wouldn't be surprised if they've already woken out of excitement for holiday.

Love, Sanya

•

16th May, 1953

1:32 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Bonnie started choking and almost fainted when she saw Mina and Meghan hold hands at the twins' birthday party. Even without the choking, I think the collapse was inevitable. It is very shocking.

Meghan kept sidling up to Susan and asking her for advice. ADVICE. No, I wasn't eavesdropping, it just happened! And the way she asked the questions- seemed like she knew QUITE a bit already.

I think those two are a lot more impassioned and keen on togetherness now, now that they may have an expiration date. Not that I think Mina will let go easy, though.

I can't believe Meggie is fucking Mina.

This is me finding out Seraphina was having almost-sex with Cleo all over again. Sigh.

Love, Sanya

•

13th July, 1953

11:30 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

I love Bonnie so much. The twins and I went to Finchley for the weekend, and Bon and I spent the day together, while Susan took the twins to Cherry Park.

It felt like old times. Nothing feels like old times anymore- not like the old times back in our world or the old times before you died- but this did. Most of the bubbles in my life have burst, but gossiping with my best friend seems one that never will- hopefully.

I'm so glad to have her in my life.

Love, Sanya

•

30th July, 1953

8:12 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

You know.

I know I made such a fuss about contraception, back in our world.
But, if I'm being honest- I prefer it when you used to enter me bare and without anything protective. When it was just you inside me- when we were one, and there was absolutely nothing in our way.

Ha, do you think that's why we've had four unplanned pregnancies? Because I liked you fucking me raw?

Hells. Perhaps that IS why.

Anyway, why did I even start thinking of contraception suddenly? I wasn't even going to be writing to you right now- I was supposed to be making a grocery list...

Love, Sanya

•

28th August, 1953

3:21 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Emmy got a gold star for THREE of her projects in school! And Sy has a whole little gang of friends there, and he says that I MUST invite them to his next birthday party.

It's amazing how precocious and precious they both are. They're six, and are already so much better at navigating this world than me at the ripe old age of twenty-five.
Maybe it's because they were born in this world. That gives them an edge on how to understand it.

Or it's just toddler common sense and the sense of survival meshing together.

Love, Sanya

•

6th September, 1953

5:04 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Took the babies to your grave yesterday, on your birthday. They put bluebells on your grave, and told you all about their first week of Year 1 in school.

Emeraude and Syed don't really understand the concept of death. I've never hidden it from them, though admittedly I did and do try to sweeten my answers- but they're still innocent of it. I think it's because they haven't really known it- after all, you and their aunt and uncles and grandparents died before their birth. I get that- for a long time, the only loss I knew was of my grandparents, who either died before I was born or when I was a toddler. I didn't know of a heart-wrenching loss until I was in my twenties.

But they understand that something very awful happened to you, and that it took you away from me and from them forever and ever.

And they know, more than they should, how sad it makes me.

They put flowers on Lucy's and Peter's and your parents' graves, too. Then we went to Susan and Bonnie's for tea.

Our babies and I have an invitation at the Mustafas for lunch later today. Aafiyah is to be married in November, and she'll move to Islington then- or was it Hounslow? Oh, doesn't matter, we both know how terrible my memory is. I am very much looking forward to some 'desi food', as she and Khaled Uncle call it.
I wish the twins could have tasted Rihaayan food- or experienced anything of Rihaaya. I wish we were all home.
I should try to get some sleep.

I miss you.

Love, Sanya

•

31st October, 1953

5:07 P.M

Dear Edmund,

Bonnie is going to have an exhibit for her paintings!

It's not terribly large, and she says the event includes a couple other 'amateur artists' and she told us to not lose our minds- but, frankly, aami ONEK excited. She's going to be showing off her brilliant paintings, and they'll finally get the appreciation they deserve!
And she got it all on her own.
She's hung up a couple of her paintings up in her classroom, and one of the people inspecting the school liked them so much he brought his wife the next day to see them. She's a bit of an art connoisseur, Bon tells me, and her cousin owns a gallery somewhere in London.

Bon also said that she hopes she gets to sell at least one or two of her artworks. If not for artistic satisfaction- not only- but because the money would help. Sure, she and Susan both have stable enough jobs that they can maintain an alright standard of life- but they still struggle.

I've offered to loan them money, as much as they need, so many times- but they say no, always. I can't really fault them- I don't like asking for help, either.

Love, Sanya

•

20th December, 1953

1:16 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Sy and Emmy were asking about you again. They ask about you a lot, you know that, I've told you every single time they do. I want to tell them everything, every little thing about you that I know and adore- but it's not very easy to form words about you.
It's difficult to talk about Sameer, and my parents- but they don't really understand what 'your Mumma is from another world' means, so they don't ask about that. And they usually reserve the questions about their late aunt and uncle and paternal grandparents for when Susan comes to visit, which I think she is glad for, because I know Su loves to talk about them to our twins. I haven't told them about Jem, Sel, and Sera, either- might save that for when they are a little older.

But you. You, they always ask me about. And I feel like sobbing each time they do. I can detail all of you, from your smallest freckle to your sense of justice- but how can I tell them that your death made me a ghost? That there is this unending cavern of loneliness and grief and love for you, that will never ever go away?

I think I'll let them read this diary someday. When I'm old and completely grey and will not be capable of feeling shame and embarrassment.
If they do read it, they'll know too much about my terrible thoughts- but they will also learn so much about their dear father who died before they were born.

Maybe they'll understand how much I miss you and that I always will, and realise just how much of a fairytale we are- however twisted.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Love, Sanya

•

22nd January, 1954

4:57 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

We're going to see the World Cup!

It's a- really big football match? I think international. It's being held in Switzerland this year, and our tickets were just confirmed today.

Maude was going to go there for holidaying anyway, and when Syed found out from a classmate that the World Cup would be there, he ran home from school and telephoned his great-grandmother IMMEDIATELY. This was about a month ago, and honestly, I had completely forgotten about it until right now.

I think I'd been trying to cut sandwiches and so I heard his side of the conversation, which went something like-

'GAMMY, YOU'RE GOING TO SWIT-SW-SWITZERLAND?'

'YES, I WANT TO GO!'

'WHAT? NO, NOT FOR SIGHTSEEING, I'M SIX! WHAT WOULD I WANT TO SEE?'

'Gru Castle? I don't want to see a castle in this world-'

Interrupting here to say something. We have never really spoken about it, but I do regularly tell them stories about our home and they're somewhat aware that I'm from another world- so perhaps that's what he meant. That he wants to see a castle in the world his parents belong to.

Anyway, continuing what I remember of the conversation now.

'I WANT TO SEE THE WORLD CUP.'

'FOOTBALL!'

'IT'S ONLY THE BIGGEST SPORTS EVENT EVER, AND IT TAKES PLACE EVERY- oh, alright. Yeah! Thank you, Gammy! Yes, Mummy sends her love. No, Emmy not home yet, she had to talk to a teacher after school. Yes, Mummy lets us come home on our own two twice a week. Bye-bye, Gammy!'

I won't lie, I am rather excited, too. NOT about being squeezed between a thousand people and having to make sure through the entire thing that the twins don't get lost or stamped on- but I like football, it's fun, and the frenzy must be infectious.

Emmy and Sy will miss a few days of school, but it's fine- how often does anyone get to witness the World Cup?
(I'm seriously asking. It's not a regular thing, is it? The tickets were nearly impossible to get, even though it was Maude who booked them, and crazily expensive. I wouldn't be surprised if they were more expensive than an island.)

I miss you. I wish you were here. That you could go with us. I know rugby was your sport, but you would've enjoyed watching the World Cup with us, with Emmy up on your shoulders and Sy up on mine. You would've explained to me what all those coloured cards mean, and some of the rules of the game I don't know or understand.

Oh, and we're going to go in an aeroplane. I think that's the word. It flies in the air, like a Gryphon. On one hand, I'm glad it won't be a ship so I shan't get seasick, but on the other hand, flying in a metal box very high up in the air feels dangerous. I don't care about my life, but Emmy and Sy are not going to die in an aeroplane at the age of seven (they'll be seven then).

I don't suppose aeroplanes are anything like Gryphons...

Love, Sanya

•

28th February, 1954

4:10 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Mina and the Scottish Viscount got married. It was very lavish, and I have never seen so many people in one hall since our first wedding. Mr. and Mrs. Starling both walked Min down, and they looked really proud.

No one was happy, exactly, but everyone looked a lot less miserable than we did at our first wedding, which is something.

Also, the twins were VERY cute in their little flower-girl and flower-boy outfits. They both brought back home the baskets they'd carried the flowers in.

Meghan was there, too. She left before the ceremony ended, and I walked her outside. I hugged her as she cried, and she said she really loves Mina.

I know Mina does, too, because she kept looking at where Meghan was sitting throughout the ceremony- especially during the vows. She told me once that she can't imagine being so in love with someone like I am with you- but I think it's happened. They'll be together as long as they can- which might be years. It could be for the rest of their lives.

But I just have this shitty feeling that it won't be forever.

I wish I could just- I wish I could go back to our world, and take them with me. They'd be happy there, be together, and they wouldn't have to hide. They could be and do whatever they want.

As long as it doesn't involve electricity, I mean.

Love, Sanya

•

2nd March, 1954

12:56 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

There's this new book, Casino Royale. It came out last year, I think. It's a mystery, but it's not like Doyle's or Christie's- this is more of a spy adventure. An international quest, international ramifications, etc. It was written crisply, without purple prose (I like the brusqueness), and the plot is engaging and explosive, but also a little...impractical?

And the characters! James Bond was annoying, honestly. He's actively misogynistic, too, and the way the women are portrayed as useless or just objects or distractions to conquer- ugh!

The worst was when Bond thought something about Vesper Lynd- wait, I remember the page, one second.
'And now he knew that ... the conquest of her body, because of the central privacy in her, would have the sweet tang of rape.'
RAPE.

I wanted to throw up. Why the fuck did I ever try this book? I hate it. I'll send the copies we have to another bookshop.

For now, I'm going to read Namora's comics to forget it all.

Love, Sanya

•

10th June, 1954

5:19 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

It's really hard to plan a trip on (mostly) your own.

Honestly, it's hard to do most things in this world without you by my side. We're meant to forever be by each other's side, but alas.
But I have too much packing to do, so enough of that.

Everything is packed for the twins, EXCEPT I cannot find the two very thick jackets Mina got for them in France last year- they'll need it, Switzerland is cold, isn't it?

Susan and Bonnie will house-sit for us and feed Cobalt. I had to write down a list of all the places that we've had sex or done THINGS like that, so they know where to NOT have sex.
Wait, that would leave...no place for them to have sex. Except on top of the piano- oh, no. Not even that.

Maybe I'll just edit the list to include only actual sex, instead of absolutely everything...

I had to telephone the school to let them know that Emmy and Sy will miss two weeks of classes, and I almost had a panic attack doing it. I've somehow got by the last couple of years by writing letters to them, or getting the twins to be messengers, but a long absence requires a letter AND verbal confirmation.
Better than actually having to meet the Principal, I suppose.

I have no idea what kind of food aeroplanes give, though I'm rather sure it's very expensive, so Sarah and I are both stressing about what I can carry for the twins to eat. Thankfully, it's only a two-hour flight.

SHIT. MEDICINES. SORRY, DARLING, I HAVE TO GO.

Love, Sanya

•

6th July, 1954

3:29 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Sorry that I haven't written more than a line or two in the past couple of days.

Travelling is very stressful. I'm sure you're wondering who won the match- so, telling you now that West Germany won. I think the shouting from the crowd made me even more deaf, but I'm not complaining, because I was shouting, too.

It rained that day, which I'd known about, obviously, so I had umbrellas and raincoats in hand. The twins stopped speaking after the match, because Sy liked West Germany ('good kicks!'), and Emmy liked Hungary ('I like the colours, Mummy!'), but they made up the next day, while we were having a picnic in Rose Garden (Rosengarten, the sign said) before our flight back to England.

We did not die in the aeroplane, though Emmy vomited both times and Sy's ears took half a day to pop on the journey to, and I was very queasy and dizzy for most of the two rides.

Susan and Bonnie were not pleased at the list I left them, and I think their scowls will haunt my nightmares.

But I see some surfaces have been scrubbed suspiciously clean, surfaces you and I never thought to use- so the list must have come in handy. I'm grinning right now, which looks weird because I'm also supposed to be brushing my teeth, but I've stuck the toothbrush between my teeth to write to you instead.

And now that I've noticed the toothbrush again, I feel like I'll throw up unless I get the paste out of my mouth, so I'll write later.

I love you, Ed. We had fun, and I wished every minute that you were there with us.

Love, Sanya

•

5th December, 1954

3:46 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Why did you leave me?

Love, Sanya

•

24th December, 1954

11:02 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Bonnie and Susan are off to Paris for their ten-year-anniversary, which is tomorrow. They consider their first kiss as when they got together, though I remember distinctly (rather, I remembered by flipping through my diary) that they didn't make things official until MONTHS later. They could have just said it's their wedding anniversary.

The twins and I are taking care of their bunny. I might keep her with me, Bow is ADORABLE and Emmy and Sy love her. There's a danger that Cobalt might eat her, though.

Bon and Su will have a great time, I'm so sure. Mina helped arrange most of the trip, so it'll definitely be worthwhile. They deserve a romantic time away, and what better than the City of...Lights? Lights. Right?

Oh, how I miss you speaking French to me...

Love, Sanya

•

8th January, 1955

10:08 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

My hair is falling so much. Why.

Even the people at the spa I went to yesterday (I'd got a coupon for it from a customer, and I had time off while the children were in school, so the went, though I was terrified about being anywhere alone and without someone to talk for me) were very horrified. And at the state of my chewed up lips and bitten nails, too.

But the rest of the time there was nice. The people were very sweet and didn't try to talk to me. They shampooed my hair and put a lot of fancy creams on my skin, and they put nail polish on my nails after cutting them, and they shaved my legs and it feels so smooth!
They also tried to get to my eyebrows, but I did NOT let them, my eyebrows are and will always be untouched and unchanged.

Also, they massaged my back! It hasn't felt so good in A THOUSAND YEARS. It's aching again now, but it was SO PAINLESS YESTERDAY.

I slept shockingly well last night, because of that. I'm still in bed as I write this, and I feel as content as I ever can nowadays.

Yesterday was as close to being pampered as I've got since- since I was a Princess. I was a bit too busy as the High Queen for things like this, unfortunately.

Love, Sanya

•

20th January, 1955

1:12 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Emeraude and Syed are the sweetest children in this entire world.

It's my birthday (I'm turning twenty-seven- again)- which I know you know, so not sure why I'm pointing it out again, but my brain works weirdly, so who even knows.

Anyway, before I go off-topic again- Emmy and Sy made breakfast in bed for me. Yes, they did, and I know! They brought it around half past noon- they have today and tomorrow off school, because an old custodian died and everyone was given two days (plus the weekend, automatically) off in honour of him.

They even let me sleep in, our sweet babies.
They usually wake me up, if I'm not already awake before them- I've told them to, because they shouldn't be awake and unsupervised- but they let me sleep, and they cooked with Sarah in the meantime.

There were eggs, and aloo bhaja, and French toast, and a vanilla milkshake that I'm fairly sure was just milk.

I suppose it was more brunch in bed, thinking back.

The twins even put a couple of tulips from the garden in a plastic cup (I'm sure it was Emmy who had the sense to not use a glass vase) next to the plates. They're so cute, I just immediately pulled them into bed and we had a feast all together.

I was holding them, you know, after we were done eating, and they rested their heads on me and mumbled to each other some things I couldn't catch. I still have them in my arms.

And- and it hurt me. That I won't have this forever. That they're seven now, but they'll be seventeen someday and they will absolutely hate me. The bend will come, and it will break me, even though I'm not even sure there's any more of me left to break.

But that's in the future. It'll come soon, but it won't come now.

For now, I'm just happily lying in bed, with our darling babies dozing next to me. It's almost perfect.

Almost.

Love, Sanya

•

16th February, 1955

3:20 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

In Finchley for Susan's birthday. It's her thirtieth, which I know you know, so I thought I should go.

Also, I was awake, so I didn't have any excuses to stay back.
I slept around two, and woke up around six- I think it might have been an odd dream that woke me up. And the twins were up at seven in the morning for some reason-

Oh, shit, it's Wednesday. They had school! THEY HAD SCHOOL, that's why they were awake.
Ah, well, one day missed isn't a big deal. They're both bright enough.

Anyway, since our babies were awake early, AND since I couldn't go back to sleep, I got them ready and packed and we came to Finchley around eleven.

We rung the bell about eighty times.

Bonnie was at work then (she's back now), but Susan was there, and she's usually awake at an efficient time. After AGES- the twins and I both had sat down by then, and we were thinking about going to Gran's- she opened the door. She had the day off, she said, and she had slept in.

She was wearing a Christmas sweater, which was blue and had a lamppost on it, so it might have been yours? Perhaps Peter or Lucy got it for you. Or didn't you say Polly once gave you all Christmas sweaters?

I'm not sure, and I want to ask Su, but every time I think about it, I feel like crying, so I won't. Crying for my dead husband would ruin his sister's thirtieth birthday.

Susan was clearly still half-asleep, and her face was COVERED in lipstick marks. I think she and Bon must have had some midnight birthday festivities last night, and Su must've been so happy about the kisses that she didn't even bother to wash it off.

They're so cute.

Susan did wash it off after she settled us in the drawing room and went to freshen up, but told Bonnie when she came home from her school, and my best friend was MORE than happy to put on visible lipstick again and plant a few more kisses on her wife.
So cute, I tell you. Even the twins were giggling and asking their Aunt Bonnie to kiss them, too. She did, and their tan faces are now marked in pink.
I have to shield my face with my other hand so that Bonnie doesn't decide to come after me, too.

Love, Sanya

•

4th April, 1955

1:23 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Guess what?
You can't guess, you're dead, so I will just tell you, darling.

Ella and Sarah are moving in together. They've found an apartment in a building not that far from where Sarah's family lives.
Gran has a new maid now- two, actually, I think, but they're never around when I visit- so Ella's responsibilities have lessened by a lot. She still works there, and she will commute there every day, and I THINK/HOPE that she will be getting the same salary- but she will come back to her beloved every night.
It's lovely, don't you think?

Love, Sanya

•

26th June, 1955

4:29 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Started to teach Emmy and Sy a bit of sword-fighting. They're quite excited about it, actually- what eight-year-old wouldn't be?

Not sure how much our babies will learn, though, since we don't actually have swords. They are our kids, and we're both the best swordspersons- but they're learning with STICKS. Sticks can only do the job so far.

Maybe Clarke will know some shop that sells swords...

And do you think I should get them horses? Real ones, not plushies.

Love, Sanya

•

13th August, 1955

4:10 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

I think Maude has been hinting that she wants to come live with us at our cottage, at least for some time.

Was over in Finchley yesterday for Bon's birthday, because obviously I can't miss my best friend's birthday- no, I didn't make the kids skip this time, yesterday was Friday, so I picked them up from school and then we went on our way- and I realised.

I also think that she may have been hinting at this since our twins were born, but I literally just realised that. I don't know what to do. I mean, I do love her and she's good with Sy and Emmy, but I don't know if it will be good to have her live with us on a daily basis.
She is rather lonely, I think, because I'm here permanently and Bonnie lives with Susan, and all she has is- what? Magazines and half a dozen parties a week?
(Yes, Gran had to cut down from two dozen, after her heart attack.)

Perhaps just for a few weeks. I don't know. It's the least I can do, considering I've been oblivious to her hints for eight years.

Maybe her overbearing presence will give me some time on my own, and it'll take my mind off how much I miss you.

By the Heavens, the stars, the Moon, everything in any sky in any world- I miss you so much. Missing you is as much a part of me now as loving you has been for most of my life.

I know that came out of nowhere, but it's just how I feel all the time. I don't say it much, because even though you'll never read these, it feels utterly stupid to spend every single letter entry saying how much I love you and how much I miss you and how I would sell whatever is left of my soul to bring you back. Hell, to just see your face one more time. To hold your hand.

I just really miss you.

Love, Sanya

•

27th January, 1956

3:33 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Maude is still here. I'm having very cold mango juice, even though I have an awful cold, which is making my head and throat hurt. My nose has been blocked for two days.

Emmy and Sy were up playing 'go fish' with her until one. I think Sy won, and I THINK Gran owes him a car. Emmy was chattering to me about the game when I tucked her in, and she said it was a 'big tickle' seeing her Gammy lose. I assume that means that she found it very funny.

Love, Sanya

•

29th February, 1956

2:50 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

My Eros. It's the first comparison I ever made about you. My angelic, freckled, warrior, wise King. Handsomest of the Gods and mortals. Darlingest Eros.

I love you.

And now I'm crying again, great. I fucking hate crying.

Love, Sanya

•

21st March, 1956

2:42 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

You left. YOU FUCKING LEFT ME! So many times- you left, and you left, and you left, and until one day the leaving became death. You died. YOU DIED!

Why didn't you just stay with me? That's all I asked.

But you didn't, you bastard. You left me.

And I'm going to be alone and without you for a lifetime. For ANOTHER lifetime.

I fucking hate you sometimes. And then I remember how much I love you, and I hate that, too.

I want you back. Please.

Love, Sanya

•

5th July, 1956

10:30 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

I was rereading some old entries, and I realised something.

Almost every single entry I have is somehow about Emmy and Sy. Each and every one of them.

Makes sense, I did say they're my life now- but seriously?
I didn't tell you that I got new glasses and that I actually wear them most of the time now. I didn't tell you that Naomi and Alexander (she calls him Skandar, though if anyone else calls him that, he throws a pebble at them) are getting married next year, and that they asked me to be a bridesmaid.
Did I tell you I found a grey hair a few weeks ago? Did I tell you that I write a lot, and have started the second book of the children's series? Did I even tell you that I sometimes wear my wedding rings on a chain around my neck, when I can't decide which one of them I want to wear?

I don't think my life has ever been my own. It's belonged, in some part- big or small- to something else. To ruling, to loving, to fighting, to grieving, to surviving. To something so much greater and more important than I.

When have I ever just lived? Never, I think.

I've lived for a thousand years, and I have never LIVED.

How pathetic.

How me.

Love, Sanya

•

25th December, 1956

12:21 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

I'm going to India.

Love, Sanya

•

21st March, 1957

12:23 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Ten years without you.

Love, Sanya

•

29th April, 1957

4:20 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

I'm in Calcutta this very moment. It's so warm, and I swear I could smell Rihaaya everywhere from the very moment I stepped out of the Dum Dum Airport (or Kolkata Airport).

You know, the city is actually called Kolkata, but the British changed it to Calcutta because that's how they pronounced it. I'm going to call it Kolkata from now on.
The Rihaayan tongue isn't quite the same as Bangla- but the few people I've spoken to seem to have chalked the differences up to the fact that I've spent a decade and a half in England.

I'm just waiting for the taxi to come- I'll be staying at a bungalow near Ballygunge. I can't remember the exact place, but I have the details written down somewhere.

I don't have the entire bungalow to myself, obviously, I think there are other renters, too, I just have two rooms. It was supposed to be one- but I must have accidentally asked for two. Probably some part of me unconsciously thought that the twins would be coming with me.

I'm going to stop writing now, and mentally prepare myself to ask the taxi driver about any biryani shop nearby. Or- what dynasty did Akbar come from? Mughals, right?

'Bhaiya, ekhane kya kono Mughal restaurant aache?'

Food will take my mind off the guilt of leaving our babies. I'd told and promised myself I would NEVER abandon our children again.

I guess both of us break promises, hm, husband?

Food will actually take my mind off EVERYTHING, to be true, if it's even half as delectable as the food in Rihaaya.

Love, Sanya

•

20th May, 1957

7:09 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

The phuchkas on the streets are to die for, though I don't care for how absolutely crowded the place is. I DO care for how many street dogs there are, though. There shouldn't be so many- if only more people gave them shelter, even temporarily...

I sit on the roof and write. It's wonderful to look at the birds and the sky and the clouds, and pen down the creative thoughts after you separate them from painful thoughts.
I think I might finish the first two books of the children's series by the end of the trip.

And, yes, the biryani is PERFECT.

I feel- I feel free.

Love, Sanya

•

1st June, 1957

2:47 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

I'm having litchis and mangoes. Litchis! Mangoes! Fresh ones, for the first time in SO LONG.

And it storms almost every day now- it's the season for it, I was told by the bungalow's groundskeeper. I love it.

The days are hot- so hot that my bones sometimes feel like they're melting- and just when it gets too sticky, it starts to rain heavily and does not stop until it's become a storm.
And they sell shawls here that are quite similar to the ones my mother got you- they're called Pashmina shawls, they are from a different part of the country, somewhere in the North.

You were right. This really is as close to Rihaaya as any place in this world can be. I don't want to leave. I think I would have stayed here and never gone back, had it not been for Emmy and Sy.

I'll only be here three more weeks, but I'm going to miss India so much when I leave.

Love, Sanya

•

16th June, 1957

4:32 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

I'm in Agra now. It's honestly excellent. Went to the Taj Mahal today- it was built by the Emperor Shah Jahan for Mumtaz Mahal, his beloved wife (he had three wives, according to the guide, which is awful, but better than his father having TWENTY) after her death.

It's her tomb. An entire palace, just for her to have an opulent resting place. It's a monument of undying love.

It's just- it's so gorgeous, Edmund, I don't know how to describe it. Even the surroundings of the palace- I'm in awe.

The Taj Mahal reminds me so much of the palace at Azraq. Most of the places remind me of home.

Love, Sanya

•

23rd July, 1957

12:23 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

I'm back in England. It's pouring here in London, and it's cold- so, nothing has changed. I should have ordered a taxi right from the airport, but I decided to walk to the train station instead.
First time I'll be alone on a train since you died. In the past eight years, our babies were always with me.

I'll surprise Emmy and Sy- I missed them so much, and hopefully it will be a good surprise. Hope is stupid, but I can't help it.

Maybe they missed me.

I wonder if they've grown taller.

I also have to go to the doctor to make sure I didn't get sick on the trip. Sadly, now that I am not a child or pregnant, it's not Doctor Nick or Doctor Michael, but it's a different one, one who annoys me as much as I annoy him. Dr. Danes was recommended by the Doctors Wright, at least.

I love you. If you had been with me in Kolkata, then it could have been a second/third honeymoon. It would have been fun, I think, though you would have needed quite a bit of sunscreen.

Love, Sanya

•

2nd September, 1957

11:40 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Cobalt lives in the cottage permanently now. I think he's getting very old, so now it's one oldie out and another oldie in.

Emmy and Sy are beyond excited about having a proper pet, though they get very annoyed at the fact that that the cat does not run around or even move, he just mews and hisses at them.

I might have to get them a dog.

Love, Sanya

•

1st October, 1957

8:40 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Mazel tov! Clarkey got married. Her name's Miryam, and Clarke says he loves her despite the fact that she can't tell the Flash from the Human Torch. She's studying marine biology- water stuff- so I like her.

He still cares about Jonathan, a lot- he calls him his Superman- but he wants a life with Miryam.
I wonder what it's like- to truly want to marry someone, even though you have deep feelings for someone else.

Good things all my wants and feelings were for you, hm?

Love, Sanya

•

15th November, 1957

10:52 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

I finally caught up with my mail that I missed while in India. Alright, maybe it was longer than just my trip to India. I am very bad at replying to letters, unfortunately.

There was one from Oscar. I thought I must be reading the name wrong, because why would he want to write to ME?

But it WAS him.

He's been meaning to write to me for a while, he said, but he didn't know how to. And also because he's been very busy- he was recruited by some rugby team early last year- one moment, let me find the name.

Yes, the Leicester Tigers. Why TIGERS? I love the animals, but they should have just had it be Lions- at least it would've been alliterative then.

The team has been in terrible conditions, he wrote, so there was a lot of restructuring last year, and he found a spot there. He's really enjoying it, though he seems to miss being the captain of the team.

He has a boyfriend, too. He didn't write it explicitly- but that's what I inferred from 'I live in Leicester with a very dear friend, Walter, and he's really the only reason I like leaving the rugby field and coming home'. He also said that it's thanks to you that he made friends with Walter and realised he actually liked him, so he is definitely his boyfriend.

Anyway, he was just writing to say that, and that he misses you a lot, and then he wrote that 'Not even a quarter as much as you miss him, I'm sure, and I cannot imagine that pain'.

I think I'll write him back and ask him to meet whenever he's in Cambridge. Probably just for a five-minute chat. I can finally apologise to him in person for attacking him thirteen years ago.

Love, Sanya

•

1st January, 1958

9:27 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Meghan and Mina are not together anymore.

Love, Sanya

•

10th January, 1958

3:10 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

A man at the bookshop asked me out last evening. I don't know why, but I said yes. I think I was really exhausted.

We went out for an early lunch at a restaurant. It was very awkward, but at least he did most of the talking. He had brown hair, works at some office, and said he was an aspiring film director on the side. He was nice, and he kept staring at my chest- I would have stabbed him with a fork because of it, but he was clearly at least TRYING to focus on me instead of my tits, so I didn't. Also, it was kind of nice to be- to be wanted. Looked at. It doesn't ever happen.

I let him kiss me on the cheek when we said goodbye. Nothing else, nothing more. I'll never see him again.

You were my first kiss. My first time. My first love.
And I want you to be my last kiss. My last time. My last love. My only love. My true love. I want it all to belong to you, no matter how long I live. I'm yours.

And I know you're mine, even now.

I just- I love you, Edmund. I can't move on. I don't want to go on even casual dates with anyone else. You're the one, husband. Forever.

I have my fingers, you know. They're enough, to tide me by. And I have a lot- a LOT- of sensual memories to pull from.
Plus, imagination, you know. Your wife has rather a lot of that, too.

Still wish it was you in my arms instead of the memory of your arms around me.

Kids should be home from school soon...

Love, Sanya

•

20th January, 1958

1:38 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

I'm thirty. Again. Gran invited me to one of her card game parties this weekend- she said I ought to come, since her guests are all old folks, and I've started on the path to old age now.

I still feel like a teenager.

I need a juice.

Love, Sanya

•

14th February, 1958

4:01 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Emmy has a Valentine this year! It's some boy in her class- Adam, I believe- he got her a card and candy. I don't think she even knew his name before today and she was so shocked because she thought no one else knew her name, either.

Our little girl was blushing like crazy when she told me about it. It was adorable.

Sy said that Adam is an idiot, but I think he's just being overprotective and annoyed that he didn't get any candy himself. Emeraude tried to console him by saying that only a few people got it, but I don't think it worked.

I'm not sure how I feel about our ten-year-old daughter getting Valentines, but I suppose some things can't be helped. And it's better than her classmates calling her or Syed mud-children.

I told her to buy a chocolate and give it to Adam on Monday, and she looked positively frightened at the thought of talking to him again. (I don't think she likes him back.) Then she asked if she could buy one for herself, too.

She's really our daughter.

Love, Sanya

•

30th March, 1958

3:49 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Susan and Bonnie want to have a baby.

They have been talking about it for years, since a year after they got married, but they thought for sure there was no way for them to have a child without somehow involving a man.

But Bonnie's doctor suggested something to them last month, and they decided they wanted to go for it.

Su wants to carry a baby, and the doctor has some frozen samples of Bon's sperm from years before her surgery, so they think they might go for-
Uh.

Donor insemination. Yes, that's it. It's not widely used and is not talked about, but that's their first option.

They're a subject of hot gossip in the neighbourhood all the time, since they're two unmarried women who have been living together for almost a decade, and it'll add more fuel to the fire if they raise a baby together- but they don't care. They want to have a family.

And I want to help them.

I telephoned Dr. Wright (Michael, not Nick, since he's the obstetrician), after Bon's call, and he said that he personally doesn't like or understand the concept, but there's a fertility clinic in London I could refer to.

(Obviously, I did not say that it's for Bonnie and Susan.)

But then he said that the procedure was risky from the beginning, because you can't ever be sure who exactly is providing the sperm for the insemination. The doctor in charge may claim it's from the chosen donor, but it could be someone else.
He said it was a grey area of medicine, and usually for people who were desperate, secretive and ashamed. I asked him if there was any other way for someone who really wanted to be a mother, but was unable to be pregnant by any other way, to carry a baby?

He went quiet, and gave me the telephone number for the clinic.

If not this, they'll adopt.

I hope it works out for them. I really do.

They'll be great mothers.

Love, Sanya

•

22nd June, 1958

5:46 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Sy wants to grow out his hair. He says it's 'cool', which means it's in fashion. I don't think I've heard of an eleven-year-old caring about what's in fashion, but I also think he'll look very cute in pigtails, so I'll let him.

Love, Sanya

•

17th July, 1958

6:48 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Meggie is going to Australia. That's the island/country/continent down below, isn't it? She said she's been offered a job as an air-hostess- which is basically an attendant on aeroplanes. She's only twenty-six! I'm worried about her even more now, I have been since she and Mina parted ways and refuse to even be in the same city as each other.

She says she'll miss home and her sister and me and everything else so much that she'll be sick- but she's excited. She's going to get over her heartbreak. She's going to travel. She's going to enjoy a life, one that is all of her own.

I'll have to send some gift along, something she can use...

Love, Sanya

•

7th September, 1958

4:10 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Don't you think it's so cruelly aweing that we are the ones who didn't get a happily ending? We should have, you know. We should have. After everything- a long life together is the least the universe should give us.

Edmund and Sanya being happy for the rest of their lives? No. No! Of course not! That's fucking IMPOSSIBLE.

Edmund gets death at the age of nineteen and Sanya gets widowhood and raising children on her own at the age of nineteen. A life of pain. Again.

We're the fairytale. Us. We're the ones who deserve a happily ever after. We deserve to grow old together. We deserve forever.
We deserve it. We deserve it so much. We deserve it more than anyone else in the multiverse.

You deserve it.

Life truly just isn't our titles. Not at all. It's everything but.

I love you.

Love, Sanya

•

2nd December, 1958

4:09 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

I'll send the twins to boarding school next year, for their second form. I've been wrestling with this since they started school six years ago, and I finally decided.

It's only for one year, though, unless it turns out that they really like it. If they do, they'll continue there- if they don't, they'll do normal day school like they have so far.
I hope they don't. It was painful being without them in India, and this will be just as, even though I know they'll be back at Clematis for all holidays.

Love, Sanya

•

12th March, 1959

8:20 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

We have a nephew, Ed! Tell Peter and Lucy as well?

His name is Lucas Charles Berkeley Pevensie (Susan said she'll hyphenate the two names when no one cares that she's APPARENTLY a single woman having a baby) and he was born on the tenth. Yes, he was born early, about a month and a half before the due date, but he's perfectly healthy. He has Susan's eyes already, but that nose is absolutely Bonnie's.

Susan told the hospital that the father was an American who died in a war in Lebanon, and she gave a fake name for the birth certificate- 'Benjamin Finley'.
She also said that she wants Luca to be baptised- which I only mention because I think the less hostile she becomes about sitting in a church, the more she realises that Narnia is real.

I don't give a fuck whether she goes to church again or becomes a devout Christian- but I do care whether she remembers her home again. I'm more sure than ever that she will.

I'm Luca's godmother, and so is Mina. She keeps joking that she's the godfather, and she'll borrow her husband's clothes whenever she comes to visit the baby.
She jokes a lot, since Meggie left. I think laughing takes her mind off her.

Love, Sanya

•

20th May, 1959

7:15 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Emmy got her moonblood. Only five days after her birthday, how awful timing!

She didn't want to tell me, but Sy freaked out seeing blood on her pyjamas and immediately came to tell me that his sister was 'grievously injured'.

It started in her sleep last night, and she didn't want to wake me, so she went and got pads from my bathroom and put them on her underwear herself. I had the talk with her when she turned ten- it was very possible that she'd start her moonblood early, like I did- so she knew what to do. She has a good memory.

I did scold her, though, because I should've been next to her, helping her with this. She should have woken me. She said sorry, and then very hesitantly asked if she could sleep in my bed today. She's twelve now, but I swear, she looked so much like her baby-self in that moment.

Of course, I said yes. The twins often come to bed to sleep with me, though it's happened a lot less since they turned eight and I let them have free rein on decorating their bedrooms. I don't really mind that. I've always liked having a bed to myself- except, of course, when it's a bed with you.
I'm going to write a letter excusing Emmy's absence from school this week- Sy said he'll hand it over to her teacher.

There is absolutely no way I am sending our baby to school during her very first moonblood, she deserves only rest and cosy blankets.

Love, Sanya

•

13th September, 1959

6:20 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

I miss our children, and it's barely been a week since Emmy went to St. Finbar's and Sy went to Hendon House.

I miss all our children. So much. Jem, Sel, Sera- my angels, all of them.

I want to write about them more often, but just feeling their loss is hard enough- writing it down- I don't know.

I'm going to go look at the twins' baby book.

Love, Sanya

•

15th October, 1959

4:30 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

I didn't even know this was possible for someone who just joined the school last month, but Syed was made the class monitor for his form. The last monitor transferred, there was a vote, and he was elected the monitor. He says he's trying to do a good job, which I just know means he's absolutely brilliant at it.

I'm in such proud awe, truly.

Love, Sanya

•

29th December, 1959

12:45 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Cobalt died today morning. I'm so sorry. We're all very sad.

The children and I are going to have a funeral for him on the 31st. He deserves it, he was a very good cat and companion.

Love, Sanya

•

1st January, 1960

2:38 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

It's 1960 now? That feels so fucking wrong. How have I been in this world nineteen years already!? How many more decades am I going to have to witness???

Love, Sanya

•

8th January, 1960

4:57 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Trilogy complete. Working title is 'Realm of Reverie'. Working on some other things as well, and editing some old things.
Let's see if I can ever get a publisher to even LOOK at the trilogy.

I'm sorry you won't be the first to read it. You should be. YOU SHOULD BE THE ONE. You ARE the one. You're my one.

Love, Sanya

•

12th March, 1960

3:27 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Susan remembers. She remembers Narnia.

I went to Finchley today, for Luca's first birthday. He was asleep when I reached, in Bonnie's arms in the nursery, so I went to find Susan.

She was sitting in the bedroom that was once hers and Lucy's, and she was crying.
She told me that she was trying to get Luca to take a nap a couple of days ago- Bonnie was on her way to school, and she suggested she tell her a story.

So, Susan did. She was going to tell a simple anecdote of how her siblings and she played hide-and-seek on a rainy day- and once she started the story, she didn't stop.

It all just came out of her, everything, from hiding from the MacCready to the wardrobe to Mr. Tumnus to the White Witch to the battle to being Queen to living as the Gentle to Tritonia and everything else- and she realised how entirely real it all had been.

She was sobbing through the entire story that she was telling me, which means she wasn't VERY clear-voiced, but I'm quite sure that's what she meant.

She apologised to me. She said she did a disservice to Queen Susan the Gentle, and said that she has to live her life honouring that part of her life now.
She also said that she wants to tell Bonnie- and I immediately agreed. I've wanted to tell Bon for years, but I just couldn't do it alone. Now I (platonically only) have Su.

Then she said she had to go to your graves and apologise to you three, too.

I came with her, and I stood near the entrance while she talked to you. She left a few minutes ago, because she thought Luca would wake up soon- but I'm still here.

I'm sitting in front of your grave and writing this, actually. I'll leave soon, too, but- but I want to sit here with you, just for a little bit.

That's what I want, you know. To be with you.

Susan remembers! She's a friend of Narnia again, I'm sure Peter is saying. And Lucy must be jumping for joy.
And you must be smiling. You're really happy, too, I know it.

Love, Sanya

•

17th April, 1960

10:36 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Emmy won a science quiz! She sent me a photograph of her wearing an enormous blue ribbon on top of her school blazer.
I'm so proud of her, and I know you are, too.

Love, Sanya

•

15th May, 1960

5:15 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

The twins are teenagers now. They're thirteen. They telephoned from school, and I sent a parcel of birthday cakes for them both. I still remember when I find out they were going to be two babies, instead of one. I remember you saying you were over the Moon. And now they're growing up.

I'm going to spend most of today evening crying, I think.

I think they both look like you, and like me, and also like themselves. They've seen pictures of you, and even then they aren't sure who they resemble.

Love, Sanya

•

6th June, 1960

12:37 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

My breasts are so pale compared to my arm! I was having a shower and I noticed it.
My arms are a lot more exposed to the sun than my chest is, so it makes sense that the latter is pale. Not as pale as you, obviously, but it's still like vanilla compared to chocolate. It made me laugh, the contrast. Or would difference be a better word? And, haha, I also thought that you must have noticed it, considering how much you like my tits.

Heavens, I miss your mouth on my tits.

Love, Sanya

•

4th July, 1960

7:20 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Emmy wants to continue at St. Finbar's. Sy, despite his popularity at Hendon House, says he prefers to sleep in his own bedroom and wants to do day school.

It's up to them, I told them, because this is definitely not a decision for me to make. They have never been apart for more than a day, and I don't think they can stomach being in different parts of the country for months at a time. They're twins- they just cannot separate like that, and they know it.

Well, there's a while till they have to make a decision, their summer hols only just started. We're going to go have ice-cream now! Emmy likes butterscotch, and Syed likes strawberry.

And you know me, forever a vanilla lover.

Love, Sanya

•

18th September, 1960

6:45 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

I can't tie my hair anymore, I keep having headaches even if I so much as clip part of it.

I'm thinking of buying a new television, this one is too old. The bookshop is doing very well- it's become a favourite haunt for university students, especially since the food area started operating- so I won't even have to dip into my 'inheritance'.

Love, Sanya

•

7th February, 1961

8:09 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Su and I finally told Bonnie.

We tried to a good few times in the past year- but we usually cowered away. I really hate telling people things, and for Susan- I think she's just haunted by all the memories that have come back. But we managed to tell her today!

I'm quite sure Bon thinks we're both 'barmy', and she went to the Rainsford house with Luca to sleep there tonight- but she believes us. Even if she thinks the truth is crazy- which it is- she understands which truths are true.

And, not to mention, the truth must also explain a lot of questions she had about me.

Love, Sanya

•

2nd April, 1961

6:23 P.M

Dear Edmund,

You would think the twins wouldn't want to watch films with their boring mum anymore, especially since they have other things to do on Easter holiday, but they were quite happy to come watch One Hundred and One Dalmatians with me. To be fair, it was about dogs, so I doubt that spending time with me was the chief selling point. I know that, because the dogs were the main attraction for ME.

Sy and I were actually thinking of getting a dog now, but Emmy found out, and she FORBADE us from having a dog while she spends most of the year at boarding school. Sy sat and cried the entire day, and I was pretty sulky, too. I want a dog. I really fucking want a dog. I always have!

I miss Diana, Ino, Penthe, Polyta, Niobe, and Aegea. Diana was the hunting dog at Azraq for most of my childhood and adolescence- the others were her pups.

You've met them, I know, and you probably do remember- but I just felt like mentioning them. Personally, I'm shocked I remember- my memory is ATROCIOUS, as you know.

I'd spent the whole afternoon frolicking with them and with Moonlight on the day I was told that I was to enter a marriage alliance with the King of Narnia. I think I also spent a LOT of time in the Library and in the Gardens that day- and I just wandered around wearing a loose kurta and breeches and informal clothes, I called them.

It was a very pleasant afternoon, that.

Enough trip down memory lane. I love remembering times like that, but all it does is make me very, very sad.

I'll make a list of our twins' favourite films and books one day. When it comes to Disney animated films, Syed really liked Peter Pan and Sleeping Beauty. Emeraude says Alice In Wonderland, but she was only four then, so I don't think she remembers it. Lucy would have loved it, I told you, remember? Emmy likes Peter Pan, too, and Lady and the Tramp, I think.

If I had to choose a favourite of the animated films I've seen since- since the twins were born, it would probably be Cinderella. I liked Sleeping Beauty, too- I like the Disney Princesses. Peter Pan was very fun, as well- Neverland rather reminded me a little of Narnia, darling.

Love, Sanya

•

13th May, 1961

12:48 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Fifteen years of our third wedding.
And- oh, I don't even remember. Twenty-five? I think so. I'll have to calculate again.

Happy Anniversary, husband.

Love, Sanya

•

6th December, 1961

12:46 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Thirtieth anniversary of our first wedding.

Who knew one alliance would lead to so much, right? To so much love? I'm sure Eros and Psyche never thought they would love each other so much.

My Eros. My darling husband.

I love, love, love, love, love, love you, my Edmund.

Love, Sanya

•

8th June, 1962

3:34 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

I feel like crying all the time.

Love, Sanya

•

26th August, 1962

7:12 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Sy had the first football game of the season today. Their team won, and it was honestly just such a nice atmosphere, all the boys hugging each other and the crowd cheering. Even the losing team was really happy once the after-game snacks were brought out.

It made me wish Emmy was here- I really miss her, when she's at Finbar's. I know she's doing brilliantly there- she might be smarter than you, even. I go there whenever there's an exhibition she takes part in, but usually she's too busy with her work to spend time with me- something she apologises for over and over again. I tell her she shouldn't apologise for doing what she wants, and I'm glad she's- that she's thriving there.
That's the best word for Emeraude in school.

But I don't like having one of our babies so far away. She sends me letters twice a week- and she telephones every time she tops a test, which is often- but it's not the same. I used to think I wasn't capable of missing people, but now all I do is miss people. So many people. Both dead and alive.

When Sy came up to where I was sitting in the stands (it's a tradition, he always comes to hug me after winning a game, no matter how sweaty and exhausted he is, it's the first thing he does), he said he might not continue with football next year.

He's been playing it since he was eleven, says he might want a change of pace.
He was really distracted while he was saying it, though- he kept looking at the field, where the other team was sitting in a very desolate huddle. He seemed to be staring at one person in particular, though I couldn't tell which boy it was.

Maybe stupidly, I asked him if he was looking for someone, and he just went red and ran back to the field after hugging me once more.

I've raised them letting them know that I love them, no matter what they decide to do or whom they decide to love, and that everyone deserves the same courtesy and respect.
Plus, I regularly talk about how I would love to marry Carolyn Jones in another universe, so our twins know well that I am not 'heterosexual'- but it's still difficult to talk about being queer.
Yes, that's what they are calling it nowadays. Being queer. It's for everyone like us. I like the word. I wonder if there will ever come specific labels, though- but it's nice to have one word, like one big umbrella over all of us.

On the way back home, I suggested he could try rugby, like you, if he wanted to keep playing some sport. I also added that you'd met your ex-boyfriend on the team.

I hope that was alright, my love- I didn't mention who it was, and you would have said the same if you were there.

Syed choked on air after that, but then said he'd think about it. He might decide to focus on learning guitar better, he added.

Love, Sanya

•

1st September, 1962

11:08 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

I have a new favourite superhero.
Peter Parker, also known as Spider-Man, webbed his way into my heart last week.
I have so much to say about him, and I have a whole essay to write about how he got his powers and about his uncle and aunt, and his loss- and the absolutely lovely quote that was there at the end of the issue.

'And a lean, silent figure slowly fades into the gathering darkness, aware at last that in this world, with great power there must also come- great responsibility!'

If only I had known that in my last life, I don't think I would have complained so much about being a Princess and High Queen and all that it entailed.

I think, once the character grows a bit more- he'll be amazing. Spectacular Spider-Man!

Don't worry, Freckle Man, you're still the one who holds my entire flayed heart.

Love, Sanya

•

31st October, 1962

5:39 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

So, Records of Reverie Realms may be a quadrilogy now. I just wasn't ready to say goodbye after the third book, and I ended up...writing another book. It felt alright. It felt better than alright, actually. The ending of the third book was rather open-ended, which I liked, but the ending of the fourth is definitive, which I think is needed. The ending is nice. No, not just nice- it's right.

I have not sent it to a publisher, and I am unsure if I ever will- I mean, even if or when I do, I highly doubt they'll actually read it.

Anyway. It is Halloween. The children are trick-or-treating. They have been doing it for a couple of years around here. I am not very sure about what that entails, but they wore costumes and went around carrying big baskets, and they also said that 'this may be for children, but we also deserve candy' before leaving. I don't know why they said that- they are children! They're only fifteen. It's an American tradition, I think.

Oh, no, the bell just rang. I hope I bought enough candy for the cute kids. I actually take a lot of pride in guessing all their costumes- it makes me feel like I really have learnt about this world, even if I haven't learnt to love it.

Love, Sanya

•

26th November, 1962

9:50 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Syed wants to go to a concert. It's of The Beatles- they've started to get popular lately. I've heard their 'Love Me Do', it's Emmy's favourite song at the moment- they're really quite good.

Sy's been trying to get tickets to their concerts for ages, and he's finally managed to get one from a friend of a friend- the concert is on the 16th of December.

I would have happily let him go if it was in Cambridge, but the concert is all the way in Liverpool! Apparently, that is quite far!

He keeps saying the band is going to Germany after that and then Scotland- and then he has exams, too- and this may be his only chance EVER- it's a Sunday so he won't miss school- and that he promised to be safe, and to please, please let him go.

He's only fifteen. I don't know what to do.

Love, Sanya

•

15th December, 1962

1:39 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

We're all in Liverpool for the weekend.
Thank Heavens that St. Finbar's closed early, so that Emeraude could be here- Syed misses her terribly. Vice versa, too.

Mina has a house here in this city, so we're staying there. Oh, by the way, she's thinking of taking a leave of absence from her clinic. She says she might go to South Africa for a tour, and find a baby to adopt- she says she took inspiration from Cecelia and Matthew, my 'parents'.
I'm glad she's adopting, but she's said SO many times that she doesn't want to be a mother.

Oh, speaking of adopting- Bon was telling me that she and Susan are planning to have another child in a few years, once Luca is older, and that they wish to adopt this next time. They want to give a needy little baby a loving home, and I love that so much. It's going to be very difficult to do it, for adoption processes are very difficult here (I suppose there are no Faerie Queens to hand over their adorable princeling toddler to you in the middle of the woods here) and because they'll have to pretend to be not a couple.

Su will have to pretend to be a single person and parent- I assume, at least, since the house is in her name, and it would make things easier.
But Bonnie and Susan are strong and they're together, and they can do whatever they set their minds to.

I miss Jem so much, it makes my heart shrivel up.

Back to Mina.

I, Psyche, think that the problem with her psyche is that she's lonely. Her husband is nice, but he's no companion, in any way.
I wish I could get her and Meghan back together, but Meggie is hardly even in the country anymore.

Emmy and Sy will go to the Beatles concert tomorrow, and I'll look for a bookshop close-by. Or a library, since I brought To Kill A Mockingbird to read.

Maybe I'll wander in and listen to some of the songs, too. I've never been to a concert, you know, darling, and I think it might be fun.

Love, Sanya

•

8th January, 1963

4:17 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

The Records of Reverie Realms published by Random House Books and written by Sanya Reza-Pevensie, coming to bookshops May 1964!
Love, Sanya

•

21st January, 1963

3:23 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

I have cancer.

Love, Sanya

•

31st January, 1963

12:00 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Wish Sel a happy birthday for me, my love.

Love, Sanya

•

1st February, 1963

7:28 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

I didn't know or realise how bad cancer is until I noticed how quietly the doctor and nurses were talking. Like they're at a funeral.

It's bone cancer.
Chondrosarcoma of the rib.

It's very fucking rare, apparently, and on the few occasions it happens, it's usually in old men. Not thirty-five-year-old women. The doctor said that some form of cancer would have overtaken me in some way or the other, it just chose one of the rarest ways.

I have a tumour somewhere near my seventh rib. It's not really visible from the outside and there were no symptoms, though the tumour has been there for a while, I was told. It's not too large, but it was not an early diagnosis, which would have increased my chances of surviving this by a lot.

Apparently, surgery is the only way forward, though there's little chances of it working. I read the report a lot of times- they will excise the tumour, and remove the sixth and seventh and eighth ribs, and cut off a little part of my diaphragm, too.

They'll actually and literally cut into my chest to take out the part that pains.

I have hoped for that so many times. To just rip out my heart and stop the hurt.

And now it is actually happening.

Another thing is happening that I've hoped for, too.

I'm dying.

Love, Sanya

•

26th April, 1963

12:01 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Please wish Pete a happy birthday from me.

Love, Sanya

•

19th May, 1963

6:06 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Sorry I haven't written in- four days? Five?

I'm so sorry. It's the longest I've gone without writing to you, and it hurts me that I have.

I bought the children headphones for their sixteenth birthdays, and we had a great day. I'm so glad Emmy came home from school to visit for a few days- she deserves it, she studied so hard for her exams last month.

Anyway, I told them they could invite their (Sy's, mostly, since he's the one who spends time with kids here in Great Shelford) friends and have a party, I could go and sit at the bookshop, but they said they wanted to be with me.

They're so sweet, though I think they might just have said that because the headphones were quite expensive. You can put them on your head and listen to music! It's absolutely amazing.

I might get one for myself, if I live that long.

And I told them that I have cancer yesterday. I've put it off for five months, and I've been feeling so guilty. I haven't told anyone else- I said to myself that the twins would be the first to know.

So I told them.

Queens don't cry.

But I did. I cried first, and they were in shock because I don't think they've seen me cry since they were babies, and they don't remember that. And they cried, too, and tried to tell me I'll be alright and that I'll be around in their lives for a long time, and- and Sy said that Emmy would find a cure for cancer, and Emmy said that Sy would probably beat up the doctors if they didn't cure me, and we just fell asleep like that, crying.

I'm going to die, I know that.
The surgery might work, but who knows.

Dying is a relief for me. I'm not afraid of it. I don't even care about what awaits me after it. I've wanted to die for so long, I'm glad to.

But I don't want to leave them. They're only sixteen. They're children. They never had you, and now they're not going to have me? How can I do this to them? How can I break my promise to not abandon them yet again? How can I abandon our babies again?

Love, Sanya

•

30th May, 1963

8:16 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

Went to Finchley. Told everyone else today. I told Granny, Bonnie, and Su in person.

They all cried. I tried my best to not. Came back to Great Shelford. Sarah had been in, and she said that the telephone has been ringing almost nonstop. I'd sent letters about this to Meghan, Clarkey, and Mina- it must have reached them.

I fucking hate phone calls.

Love, Sanya

•

7th June, 1963

12:00 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Wish Jemmy a happy birthday for me, darling.

Love, Sanya

•

9th July, 1963

12:01 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Please wish Lu a happy birthday from me.

Love, Sanya

•

5th September, 1963

12:00 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Happy Birthday. Husband, my anchor, my darling, my beloved, my soulmate, the love of my life. Happy Birthday, Edmund.

It still tears me open, your loss. It kills me, my love for you.

I might see you soon.

But luck has generally not been in my favour, so I doubt it.

Love, Sanya

•

4th October, 1963

12:00 A.M.

Dear Diary,

It's my sweet brother's birthday.
If you're reading this- Happy Birthday, Sameer.

Love, your Aanya

•

23rd October, 1963

12:00 A.M.

Dear Diary,

Happy Birthday, Abba. I hope you can hear me from the Heavens.
Love, your Princess Sanu

•

28th October, 1963

12:00 A.M.

Dear Diary,

Happy Birthday, Amma. Hopefully you can read this from the Heavens.
Love, your shona Sanu

•

10th November, 1963

9:16 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

The surgery finished last week. I have to stay in hospital for a few more weeks, and I wasn't allowed my diary until today. I did have Milkshake with me, at least.

They stuck a tube in me, after cutting off the ribs and all that. It's to drain some fluid, I think.

My chest hurts a lot. A lot more than it ever did with the tumour. The doctor said there's no certainty how long I'll have after this, but at least there's been no new growth and the surgery went well.

I have more scars now.

I'm glad they let me have my diary, darling.

I'm dying soon. Everything I write in this, everything I write to you- each and every letter is an entry for the epilogue of my life.
It's an odd thing to know. I wonder what my funeral will be like.

I hope they let me go home in time for Christmas. I don't care much for it, but our children love the holiday. I want to spend it with them.

Love, Sanya

•

20th November, 1963

12:00 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

Wish Sera a happy birthday for me, husband.

Love, Sanya

•

20th January, 1964

8:09 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

I'm still alive. Thirty-six.

Remember how you said you still wanted to be fucking me when I'm thirty-seven? I'm not sure that I'll be making it to that age this time.

I'm really weak, and I'm in bed all the time, because I have to be. Sarah moved in after I came home from the hospital, and Emmy and Sy are with me every moment that they're not at school.
I know Emeraude is sad that she decided to not return to Finbar's this year, and I feel awful. She stayed here for me.
And even Syed, he's an ambivert, but he has so much of a life- he has friends, and he likes to go to parties, and do things that aren't taking care of his sick mother.

I'm on bedrest, but I can barely sleep. I can hardly concentrate on reading, even, because of the pain.

My torso hurts so much, it constantly feels like whatever is left of my diaphragm is going to tear completely apart.

It's just like how my heart felt when you died, but it's actually physical this time, and that's worse.

Love, Sanya

•

30th March, 1964

5:47 P.M.

Dear Edmund,

We got a dog. She's about eight months old, and a mix between a Golden Retriever and a Great Pyrenees.
She's really calm, and loves to get pats, but I SWEAR as soon as she sees a ball, she turns into a newborn puppy. I've wanted a pet dog all my life, but she's more for the twins than for me. It's alright. I won't be here for long, anyway.

Emmy and Sy have named her See-Saw. I hate the name, but See-Saw seems to like it. She wags her tail a lot.

Maybe I'll just call her Sea. She sits very calmly next to me while I'm lying down and am unable to even sit up. She's ADORABLE. I LOVE HER.

Love, Sanya

•

6th May, 1964

8:38 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

The first book of Records is out. The publisher said they're carefully hopeful about how it'll be received. The next two books are supposed to be come same time next year and then the year after that, but those will probably be posthumous.

There are a few other things I have written and was writing that I would have liked to publish some day- but, well, you know. Death.

Love, Sanya

•

1st August, 1964

2:21 A.M.

Dear Edmund,

I love you. I can't sleep again, so I'm just remembering everything I can remember about you. It's a lot. My memory is ekdom horrible, but almost everything about you is so clear.

I love you so much, husband.

I truly want to sleep. Just a while. I'm not even asking to dream something nice. I just want rest.

I would like a nice dream, though.

Love, Sanya

•••••

8th August, 1964

1:20 P.M.

𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝘿𝙖𝙙,

𝑴𝒖𝒎 𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒂𝒈𝒐. 𝙎𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥. 𝑺𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆. 𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚.

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒉 𝒐𝒇 𝒖𝒔, 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚. 𝙀𝙢𝙢𝙮 (𝙀𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙪𝙙𝙚) 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙎𝙮 (𝙎𝙮𝙚𝙙). 𝒀𝒆𝒔, 𝒘𝒆'𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔. 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩. 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝑺𝒚. 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙀𝙢𝙢𝙮.

𝑾𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒖𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚. 𝗪𝗲'𝗿𝗲 𝙞𝙣 𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗵𝗹𝗲𝘆- 𝘄𝗲'𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘆𝙞𝙣𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗚𝗮𝗺𝗺𝘆.

𝑴𝒖𝒎 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖- 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒄𝒉 𝒂𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑮𝒂𝒎𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒖𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒍. 𝗜 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗰𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗚𝗮𝗺𝗺𝘆 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗺𝗮𝘇𝗶𝗻𝗴- 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗴𝗮𝗺𝗯𝗹𝗲.

𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝑫𝒂𝒅 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒍, 𝑺𝒚. 𝗪𝗵𝘆 𝗻𝗼𝘁, 𝗘𝗺𝗺𝘆, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗴𝗮𝗺𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝗴𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝘀𝘀, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗗𝗮𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝘀𝘀.

𝑨𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚. 𝗔𝗻𝘆𝘄𝗮𝘆.

𝑯𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑴𝒖𝒎 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒘. 𝗦𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗼 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵, 𝗗𝗮𝗱. 𝑰'𝒎 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒓- 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒘𝒆 𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒖𝒑- 𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒂. 𝙔𝙚𝙖𝙝, 𝙬𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙉𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙖, 𝘿𝙖𝙙- 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙍𝙞𝙝𝙖𝙖𝙮𝙖 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩. 𝒀𝒆𝒔, 𝒘𝒆 𝒅𝒐. 𝘼𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙞𝙣 𝘼𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙣'𝙨 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙮?

𝑴𝒖𝒎 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝑱𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂𝒕. 𝙎𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙙 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨. 𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒘.

𝙒𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧. 𝑾𝒆'𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒄𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒘𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒍𝒐𝒕. 𝙈𝙪𝙢 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙪𝙨. 𝑴𝒖𝒎 𝒘𝒂𝒔- 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒔𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔. 𝙒𝙚'𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙤 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙬𝙚 𝙜𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙣. 𝑾𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒘. 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙚'𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙧𝙥𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙨.

𝑾𝒆'𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒖𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍. 𝙊𝙝, 𝙮𝙚𝙨, 𝙬𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙤.

𝑾𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏, 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒔. 𝙈𝙪𝙢 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙙 𝙬𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙, 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙙 𝙞𝙩 𝙖 𝙛𝙚𝙬 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙙. 𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈, 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒊𝒕? 𝙏𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙮 '𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙙' 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙈𝙪𝙢? 𝒀𝒆𝒂𝒉. 𝙔𝙚𝙖𝙝.

Lᴏᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ, Dᴀᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴏ Mᴜᴍ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟsᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏғ ᴜs,

𝑬𝒎𝒎𝒚 ᴀɴᴅ 𝙎𝙮

Syed closed the diary, and Emeraude capped the pen that they had been writing with.

"Mum did that, right?" Sy asked his sister suddenly, pointing to the opposite wall. They were in their mother's old bedroom, when she had been Sanya Rainsford and not Sanya Reza-Pevensie.

"What?" Emmy asked, looking in that direction- she squinted, and adjusted her glasses. Soon, she saw what he had been pointing at.
Two letters carved into the wall, a mathematical symbol between them.
"She must have. Dad's initial is first, so it makes sense that Mum did it."

"It's sweet. Though I'm shocked Gammy hasn't wallpapered over it." He spoke with a small smile, tucking a strand of dark hair over his ear. He usually gelled his jaw-length hair back, but he knew his mum did not like that- so he wore it normally today. He liked it, to be honest- letting his hair hang down like this. If he could be sure that he wouldn't be teased about being 'girly'- not that that was a characteristic that would bother him to possess- he'd grow it even longer. "We have to go, Em."

"I know, S." She said, turning towards her twin. She was glad she had foregone her usual contact lenses- they were a pain, but at least there was no anxiety about losing them, like she had with her spectacles- and that she was wearing glasses for the day. The gladness was because they made it difficult for people to tell when she was crying. And she knew that she, and her brother, would both be crying throughout their mother's funeral. "Do you think Heaven exists?"

"Not a clue." Sy was usually the one to ask the questions, and his scientific twin answered them. She was the older one, after all. "But I'm telling the truth when I say that Mum deserves to find peace more than anyone else, and if there was any sense of justice in the universe, she'll get it. I'm pretty sure."

"Yes." Emmy nodded in agreement, attempting to mirror his tiny smile. "I agree. She deserves- she deserves the best."

Before Syed could nod in agreement, the door opened and a small child came in, dressed in black and holding a handkerchief as blue as his eyes.
"Mummieth are calling you down." Lucas lisped, before sneezing thrice.
Dabbing the handkerchief over his nose, he smiled embarrassedly, "Thorry. Allergy."

"It's okay, Lu, we know." Sy smiled at his cousin- really, he liked children. He hoped no one ever found that out. It wouldn't do for people at school to find out he could be soft sometimes- who would want to listen to a rock band whose lead singer melted at the sight of babies!?
Sure, he had not started a band yet, but he would soon! He would even tell people about his plans- only his sister and mother knew so far. His mum had been the first person he had told.
"Go wait with your mums, we'll be right down. Is See-Saw down, too?"

He pointed at the window, "She's playing out. Granny Maude thaid the dog will ruin her garden."

The twins looked amused, especially since it seemed that there was no effort from their great-grandmother to stop the ruining of her garden.

The five-year-old raised his handkerchief in goodbye, and Emmy waved back as he walked out, unable to help a smile.
He was so cute. He had come over when she had displayed her personal project at a science exhibition last year- she had made a revolving and rotating replica of the solar system, powering it using potatoes- and he had clapped so hard, giggling all the while.
So had her mother, but without the giggling and some bit of confusion, because she had never really understood any of the sciences.

"Syed." She said softly, seeing her brother lost in thought. Probably thinking about the same person she was. "Let's go."

"Y- yeah." He nodded, his smile fading completely as he remembered what they were to go to. "Let's go."

The twins grasped each other's hand, surveyed each other's appearance, and then exited the bedroom- their shoulders bumped into each other's as they did, and they were glad. The contact reminded them that, despite their loss, they still had each other. They always would.

Sanya's diary stayed on her desk, one that had been cleared out almost twenty years ago to take to a cottage that she and Edmund, the love of her life, had hoped to make home.
One that they had managed to, but for a tragically short amount of time.
And on the wall close to the desk, was a carving that was even older than that, one that would hopefully stand the test of time and change and ruin and all else that threatened to overpower all else- that had overpowered all else.

E+S

-
-✧･: °*✧*°:･✧-
-

Tasie Lawrence as Emeraude Lailah Reza-Pevensie

-
Aramis Knight as Syed Holmes Reza-Pevensie

-
Logan Lerman as Lucas Charles Berkeley-Pevensie

-

(Wives forever and ever 🤍
Also, how did they not FREEZE to death, considering they are not wearing any warm clothes????
True love must have warmed them, ig.)
-

(Look at the babies shdksjkds all grown up and all too knowing of what grief looks like- and also what being orphans is like :"")

Their parents got engaged- in this world- at seventeen, and the twins got orphaned.

Also, Emmy's expression reminds me sm of Edmund, and Sy's of Sanya)

-

(The Reza-Pevensie family. Forever incomplete, but they are together and happy with that 💖)
-

(The Berkeley-Pevensie family. They are whole, happy, and unconventional, and perhaps all the happier because of that 💖 they'll have other children as well- adopted, and I leave them to your imaginations)
-
(Added those two more than a whole month after publishing this chapter (adding them 28/4/2023) BECAUSE I JUST HAD TO, OKAY)
-

(Finally, the gravestone Edmund deserved. Not that he deserved one at all, because he didn't deserve to DIE, but still. His being a husband and a father needed to be recognised.
Added 31/07/2024)
-

(Some humour to offset the tragic)
-

(Might have been right person had it not been for Sanya- it was the wrong time because Edmund was already in love with Sanya- and was wrong world, too,because Edmund's home is actually Narnia. They deserved to have more time together- Oscar made Edmund happy, and Edmund made Oscar feel cared for.)
-

(DESERVED HAPPY ENDING. WIVES. MUMMIES. PARTNERS. SOULMATES. JANE AND BINGLEY. BELOVEDS. THEY DESERVE THE WORLDDDD ❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗)
-

(They were cute. extremely, for the couple of diary entries they got. 'His superman'- awh. But first loves don't last always- and sometimes, after the end of it, you do learn to love again. Clarke did, and we support him. Sanya does, too, even though she can't relate to the moving on part at all 💀💀)
-

(In my heart, they got back together later in life, after Mina had three divorces and Meghan retired from air-hostess-life, and then settled into a cosy and luxurious life in one of the Starling mansions- they just have the best life growing old together :) and what happens in my heart is CANON.
Mina and her Petal <3)
-

(Well, that is all the kids- dreams and reality included- of the Reza-Pevensie fam! Save for the fetus. I like that they're all pouting and looking moody- they get it from their angsty parents.
Syed has short hair here because Emeraude did a fake experiment on him and told him he has lice.
He didn't realise until months later that the day of the experiment was the 1st of April.

This edit was made on the 10th of March- 2022. OVER A YEAR AGO. IT IS 26TH MARCH, 2023 TODAY.
WHAT. THIS IS INSANE.
HOW DOES TIME PASS BY LIKE THIS?????)
-

(Rest, my surname-changing Queen.
Only dreams now, no more despair.)
-

Gosh. That was very long, no?

This chapter is 23K words. TWENTY THREE THOUSAND! This is a whole fucking novella in itself! I have been adding entries to this for AGES- literally, the last entry was a couple of hours before I posted this. The original wordcount of this chapter was 15K words. Then I kept adding entries and kept adding and kept adding- and now it is 23K words.

Yk, 'Fairytale?' will never EVER be published- not because it's a fanfiction, definitely not that, but because it is just too damn long! 414K words. I am never even going to have 414K bucks in my bank account- but this book has that many words.

There are more of these entries, obviously. Sanya wrote to Edmund every single day- barring a few days that she didn't have the access or ability to write in her diary- and even if she had nothing substantial to write, she wrote an 'I love you' to him every day. She had promised to tell him that as often as she could, after all.
She intends to follow that promise forever, dead or not.

Emeraude is a reserved, bisexual, calm, science prodigy; Syed is an outgoing, queer/gay, instinctive, aspiring musician. She'll probably cure cancer, and he'll probably win the Nobel Prize due to his lyrics.

It is- the nicest kind of irony that Sanya thinks they will hate her as they grow up, but they just love her more and more and always want to spend time with her. Even in the last letter to Edmund, after Sanya's death, that the twins wrote- it is so clear how much they love and cherishe her. They both adore their mother very much.
Even though she did fuck off to India for three months during their childhood 💀 a deserved fucking-off-to, though. I don't think there's any character who deserves a vacation more than she does.

Susan remembers Narnia! Of course she does. Fuck off, Clive. She gets a happy ending in my book- as much as she can without her family.
Oh, and yes, Luca- Susan and Bonnie's son- is named after Lucy! If they have more children- adopted ones- which they most likely will, they'll probably be named after Peter and/or Edmund.

Also, Luca's faceclaim- major indecisive moment for me. I was struggling over it for literally weeks.
I could NOT choose between Logan Lerman and Aaron Taylor-Johnson.
Eventually, I had to go ask my best friend to choose (who raised the question of how two women were supposed to have a baby, and so I told him my science logic, and he was like 'oh okay', which is gratifying, because he is a science genius), and he said Logan looks more like their mix.
If, though, there happens to be another spinoff (there won't be) about Luca and all, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson is in the Cast- well, I love him. That's why.
Oh, and Susan and Bonnie will adopt a little girl later on- in 1968- as well, named Emily! Faceclaim is Sofia Wylie :)

Oh, and Sanya is a bestselling author, posthumously. The twins will also publish unpublished stuff of hers later, as they go through her diary- they'll find she wanted some short stories and novellas published, and they'll do that for her. No, her diary won't be published, ABSOLUTELY NOT.
I thought of making a fake Wikipedia page for her, but it'd be really tiring to make. I was almost thinking I would make it befoe publishing, but I am just so exhausted.
Would be pretty fun, too, though.

(LATER EDIT:

https://sanyarezapevensie.miraheze.org/wiki/Main_Page

GUESS WHO MADE A WIKI PAGE, HAHAHA, FOR HER)

And, obviously, Maude is still alive. Maybe she's alive even right now. I wouldn't be surprised.

Sanya is finally dead.

Odd, isn't it? Everything Sanya is- a queen, a warrior, a demigod- and everything Sanya survived- abuse, battle, war, loss, more loss, torture, murder attempts, leaving her world, attempted suicides, even more loss- and it's cancer that does her in. An illness that ultimately puts her down.

Honestly, I would have killed her WAY before- maybe when the twins were around eight- but I had to make her live long enough to see Spider-Man's birth. Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man saving the day- or, dooming it, since Sanya does not want to live- once again!

But she is dead now. Not asleep for a thousand years. Not dreaming. Well, maybe dreaming.
She is dead.
She can finally rest.

Well, unless she's sent to Hell. We'll see.

RIP, shona.

LAST CHAPTER NEXT!!

I should probably have something more poignant to say that 'IT'S THE LAST CHAPTER AFTER THIS', but I don't. I'll have a goodbye author's note at the end of next chapter, but that's more a ramble of whatever I thought of in the moment as I was typing aforementioned author's note. Not really anything poignant.

Unless heartfelt- well, heart-impulsive- counts as poignant.

Gosh, this is my second-last author's note for this series. Well, third-last, since there will one at the end of the Edits chapter as well.

Still, this is the penultimate chapter. And the next chapter- it's the final one. The last chapter.

LAST EVER. IT'S THE LAST ONE EVER.

*cries internally*

And, as always- I humbly and unashamedly ask you to vote on the chapters, and perhaps comment, too :)