The entire walk home, I am silent, my arms tight around my daughter, barely noticing Damon's arm around my shoulders. Ella keeps her hand ducked, never raising it.

My poor darling. Having to listen to those words, having to hear such awful things at such a young age. She has always been so self-aware, so intuitive and wise. This will almost certainly affect her. To hear such cruel words, to hear herself be degraded and spoken about in such an insulting manner, will have devastated her. My angel. I have done so much to protect her and, in an instant, everything came crumbling down because of one self-serving, selfish woman.

As we approach the front door, Damon releases his hold on me and moves forward so he can open said door. I lead the way to the parlour and sit down, gently pulling Ella away from my body to look at her. Her eyes are bloodshot and wet, her nose pinched and red, her little cheeks flushed.

Her gaze shifts between me, the wall behind me, Damon and the floor. She sniffs, unable to maintain eye contact with either me or Damon.

I raise a hand and cup her cheek, "My angel. Mummy is so, so sorry that you had to hear such awful words. Do not listen to her, do not take it to heart."

After a moment of silence, Ella looks up at me, her blue eyes stormy with sorrow, "Mummy. Why is having a daddy so important? Am I not a good girl if I don't have a daddy? Am I not nice? I am not different to my friends. They all have daddies but their mummies say I am still more of a good girl than them. Do people think I am bad because I do not know my father?"

Stunned by the maturity of her speech, I cannot even begin to formulate an answer. I have worked so hard to protect her, to shield her from how people view us. I thought I would have longer than this to prepare Ella for the cruelty of our society, to teach her how vultures like Mrs Hughes prey on those more vulnerable than themselves. Pain shoots through my nerves, pulsating straight to my heart, making it swell with discomfort and sorrow. It is sharp, shooting, fleeting yet never-ending – the kind of pain I have been all too familiar with growing up myself in the same position Ella is in. The position I swore I would protect her from ever having to be in.

Damon cuts in, "Ella, you are the best girl I know. Having a father or not having a father, it makes no difference to the person you are. You are a lovely, beautiful, kind and funny girl and that has nothing to do with your parents. All of those wonderful things are because of you and you only. The thing is, there are people in this village and beyond it who are not intelligent enough to see that yet. It will take them years to catch up to someone who has a brain as big as yours."

The corners of Ella's mouth lift up into a tremulous smile. "They have small brains? Like little rats?"

Damon leans in and whispers, "Even worse. They have small brains like little ants."

Ella giggles, her eyes still brimming with forgotten tears, "That is tiny, Mister Damon. We should not listen to them if they have such little brains, they do not know what they are saying."

"Precisely, angel! I knew you would understand, being such a smart girl." Damon ruffles her hair, beaming with affection.

Ella sighs, hopping down from the chaise. "Mummy, do not worry. We shall not waste time listening to rats. I am going to play now. Bye!"

With that, she scampers out of the room and I hear continuous thuds as she runs up the stairs to her room.

Letting out a shaky breath, I let my head fall into my hands, massaging my sore scalp. I am so lucky for Ella's bright, resilient soul. If there was any other child in her place, I wonder if they would have dealt with the obstacles she has with quite as much strength. She truly is a blessing bestowed upon me. I cannot fail her, I cannot let her be ripped apart by this society, I strove and fought so hard for her to be seen equally. I am aware that there are people who will never see past the hole in our family, but I pray that there are enough people in her life who deem her value to be weighted on more than her parentage. Is that not what every parent wants? Every parent of all classes and social stature? Do they all not wish for their child to be given an opportunity to live the best life possible?

"There was nothing you could do to prevent that situation."

I look to the side. Damon is sitting beside me, his elbows resting on his knees as he leans forward to meet my gaze. The corners of his mouth lift slightly and his blue eyes glimmer with warmth.

"There are people in this world who seek only their own gain. They care not for you, not for me, nor for the easily-broken spirits of children. We have seen it all too often in our own lives. This is not flattery, but you have protected Ella so well."

At his words, the pain in my heart throbs and I look up from the ground, confused.

Damon nods, confirming that I heard him correctly. "I know that sounds strange coming from the man who criticised you to no end for sheltering her. Being where I was, being the head of a company, I suppose I forgot just how cruel people can be. I forgot what it was like to be young and have to fight everyday to be seen as worthy. You are just as amazing of a mother as I thought you would be."

My eyes widen in shock, "I am?"

"Of course you are. I knew you would be since that day in the stables."

"Which day? We spent many days in the stables, Damon." I let my myself smile at the memories.

"The day in the stables when we chose our daughter's name." Damon replies, his gaze piercing through me as we both remember the intimate moments of a time long ago.

I remember it as though it was yesterday.

"No." I say to him, "Don't you start saying goodbye. You're not going anywhere, you're not leaving me. You're going to stay and you're going to marry me and we're going to have lots of babies and we're going to call the girl Esther and the boy Emerson..."

"Woah!" Damon steps back, "I didn't say anything... about the name Esther. Urgh! What kind of a name is that?"

"Damon!" I chide him, "Esther is a beautiful name. Why would you say something like that? That's horrible!"

"No, the name Esther is horrible! My daughter will not be called Esther. No matter what happens, I will not allow you to do that!" Damon says, his eyes wide, "The poor child will be tormented all her life."

"Fine, Esther's cancelled. Well, what about Mary-Anne?"

"Sounds like an old woman." Damon shakes his head in disgust.

"Okay. Ella?"

A slow smile creeps along Damon's face, "Ella. I like it."

I smile in response.

"Oh. That day. I have always had a question that I never had the opportunity to ask." I glance at Damon to see him gazing at me intently, his eyes unreadable. I look away when warmth threatens to flood my cheeks. He still has such an effect on me, after so many years.

Damon smiles. "Well, I suppose today is your lucky day. Ask me."

"Why did you decide the name Ella was good enough? It is not traditional or common. Many people ask me if it is short for Eleanor or Emilia. They are often surprised when I tell them Ella is her full name."

"That is simple. Ella is our intersection. Alone, we are two separate paths, two separate beings on our own separate journey. Ella is the point where we meet. She is the point where both of us join and become one. She is part you and part me. Therefore, she begins with you – Eloise became Ell – and she ends with me – Damon becomes the A at the end of her name. Together, we make Ella. It is the perfect moniker for her; she is as much us as we are her. She was made from us and we are who we are because of her. That is what I intended when you suggested the name."

I stare at Damon in awe, the depth of his response taking me by shock. My heart thuds against my ribcage, pulsating with love for how much thought he put into choosing our daughter's name. I had spurted the name out in the heat of the moment, but he thought of every syllable, every letter and how it related to the story of our love. He dedicated his whole life to me, to our future. What I could have had! The love that would have been! Everything that I sacrificed is staring right at me. All of the love, all of the happiness, the protection, the security, the wholeness that my family would have had. He is everything.

Uncontrolled, a tear slips from my cheek and races down my cheek. Damon's sharp gaze spots it and he watches it make it's path down my face. He then meets my eyes once more.

"My Eloise is still in there, isn't she?" Damon whispers, his blue eyes dark and stormy like the sea.

What do I do next is out of my control. I cannot stop myself any longer.

I reach up and place my hand on Damon's cheek. His eyes close in response and he leans into my touch. Using the pad of my thumb, I stroke his face and Damon swallows hard, his hand shooting up to cup mine and hold it in place. He does not want me to let go – I do not want to let go. I wish to stay here forever, like this, with him in front of me. I do not want this moment to pass.

"Your Eloise has always been here." I say as my throat chokes on the words. "She has always been here, but she has been unable to answer your calls. She cannot speak, she cannot respond to you like she wishes."

"Why?" Damon probes, his eyes shooting open. "Why can she not? What is stopping her?"

"Fear, Damon. Fear is what stops her. She cannot show herself, for fear of what will happen. She cannot let herself endanger you."

Damon is now the one to cup my face in his hands. "Fear of who? What will happen? Tell me, I will deal with it. Tell me and I will do what needs to be done, Ellie."

I smile, tears streaming freely down my face. I reach up to hold his wrists. "Ellie. It has been so long since I have heard that name used for me. I missed it. I missed you."

"I missed you too." Damon's shoulders slump. Like me, he too is crying.

"Your Ellie loves you, Damon. I loved you then and I love you now. I am trapped."

"Give me permission to free you." He whispers, his eyes shining. My Damon.

"To free me, would be to kill you." I bite my lip against the onslaught of pain that this admittance brings. "I cannot put you in such danger."

"Please, Ellie. Do not leave me to rot with such riddles. Please, tell me and we will overcome it together." Damon pleads, his hands leaving my face to clutch my hands.

I prise my hands free and lean forward, planting a soft, yielding kiss to his cheek. Damon stills as my lips make contact with his skin and I taste the saltiness of his tears mingling with mine. For a second, time stops. It is just the two of us in the world. Everything else has ceased to exist. For a second, he is mine in a way that he never can be. For a second, I indulge my selfish desires.

I pull back and run a hand through his hair. "I love you, Damon, but please do not ask me to do more than I can. Our story is limited to this – to loving from afar, to putting on a façade of being strangers, to being together yet separate. Through all of it, I will love you. To my last breath, I will love you."

"I love you too." Damon breathes.

"That is why I need to carry this alone." I say and being unable to hold myself together anymore, I stand and run from the room, all the way to the safety of my bedroom.

The four walls within which all of my sorrows can be projected.

I close the door and slide down to the floor. What just happened? My mind is a jumble, thoughts jump and flutter around my head, but I cannot latch onto one of them. I cannot seem to focus.

Despite everything, despite the harrowing sadness that surrounds the events that unfolded downstairs, I am... happy? I have nothing to hide any longer. Damon knows that I love him and he confessed that he, too, still loves me after all this time. We are together, but apart, but at least we are together. Even if we cannot be as we were before Emmanuel tore my life apart, at least I am blessed enough to be able to see him before my eyes, at least I am able to see him love our daughter. It is temporary but it is enough.

It has to be.