Chapter 30

• The biting wind whipped at Rowan’s face as he stood on the windswept cliff overlooking the churning grey sea. Below, the waves crashed against the jagged rocks, their relentless rhythm mirroring the turmoil within him. He hadn’t been back to this place, his childhood home, in years. The imposing stone house, perched precariously on the cliff’s edge, loomed before him, a silent sentinel guarding the secrets it held within its walls. The memories, sharp and vivid, assaulted him, a relentless tide pulling him under.
• He’d run away from this place, from the suffocating weight of expectation, the relentless pressure to conform to his father’s rigid ideals. He’d been a rebellious youth, a thorn in his father’s side, his spirit chafing against the constraints of a life predetermined for him. His father, a man of stone and iron will, had never understood his dreams, his yearning for a life beyond the confines of their isolated estate. The arguments, the cold silences, the unspoken resentments – they were etched into the very fabric of his being. He'd left, vowing never to return, carrying the weight of his father’s disapproval like a heavy cloak. Yet, here he was, drawn back to this desolate landscape by an unseen force, a pull he couldn’t resist.
• He ran a hand through his wind-tossed hair, his gaze fixed on the turbulent sea. The years melted away, the present dissolving into a hazy kaleidoscope of memories. He remembered the long, solitary walks along this very cliff, the wind whispering secrets in his ears, the vast expanse of the ocean a mirror to his restless soul. He remembered the unspoken longing, the dreams he dared not voice, the frustration that gnawed at him, a constant, gnawing ache. He'd felt trapped, suffocated by the rigid expectations of his family, his potential stifled by their unwavering disapproval. He’d yearned for freedom, for a life of his own making, a life unburdened by the weight of their expectations.