#Kept the dates ambiguous since time accuracy was not placed in consideration

[misslycoris]

"Dearest Amelie,

Did you receive the present I got you? I left it with your aunt to give you once I depart, you've told me many times how much you've wanted that little thing and I never understood why. But, I hope this will give you something to cling on once you have nightmares, if possible try not to wake your aunt, she needs her sleep as well. You're a big girl now, and I will be right there with you as that tiny doll, may it bring you sweet dreams. I know I've left some hurtful words before I left but I wasn't quite sure on how to say goodbye, I didn't have the words and it all came out wrong. I didn't mean any of those words, I love you, and I hope you have it in you to forgive me for leaving you so soon without notice. I promise you that won't change, no matter where we both are and no matter the time I've spent away from you.

Love you always, from Dad"

The train was loud, and so were the bright cheers of the men that were on that train, each one commemorating the success, the loss, and their hard work paid off. The war ended, slowly but ended nonetheless. The nights were long, the days even longer and harsher, Arthur barely survived the last few months, and they were on the brink of starvation when the enemy surrendered. All of a sudden he was up the trench, he was crying alongside his mates, the living ones anyways, with those whom he lost lying on the ground.

The war was over. He could finally return home. Home was somewhere safe, home was somewhere he could always return to, home was his daughter. Amelie.

"Dearest Amelie,

I hope this letter has reached you, by the time you've read this you'll be 16 already won't you? I really wish I could've been there to celebrate it with you. I hope your aunt has been treating you well, and likewise you aren't giving her a hard time. I know how confusing it must be for me to leave so suddenly but I promise to come back home. I've left a present for you, I know how much you loved painting so I've left you a little box full of paints and brushes, I've asked your aunt to buy you a canvas as well. I've told you once that I never found art endearing, and I wish you chose another hobby but now? I think it's about time I let you decide for yourself, you know what you want and I'm afraid I love you too much to refuse you. Whatever makes you happy, I'll always be there to support you. I hope that this will be the last birthday that I wouldn't be able to attend, have you kept the doll I gave you? You've always lost small things since you kept placing them everywhere, I'll buy you another one once I come back home. I love you, and happy birthday Elie.

With Love, Dad"

The engines slowed down, grinding to a halt, Arthur was the first to sprint out, looking around in a frenzy. He saw many people, old, young, men, women, families, wives, parents, siblings, there were a lot of people that day and all of them were hoping to see the soldier they waved off come back to them in one piece. He couldn't see his sister around, so he figured they were waiting at home. He held on to his bag and rushed off, he wasn't willing to wait as much as he already has, he's missed too many birthdays and he wasn't about to make that any higher. He could only send a few letters every year, he wasn't even sure if all of those letters reached his daughter, it was all the more reason why he wasn't wasting any more time.

He ran through the crowd, through the cheers of others and through the smiles they gave as they saw him running past, no one stopped him, no one did, only cheers and salutations greeted him. He ran through the streets like a madman, having a few people yell in frustration, but it didn't matter. All he did care at that moment was the fact he was only a few streets away from his sister's house.

"Dearest Amelie,

How are you Elie? I've missed you so much, it's not as homely here compared back home, and I've always got someone's feet dangling in front of me while sleeping. I've missed reading books together, have you been reading with your aunt? I can't wait to hear what you've been reading about, my favorite story was the one with the three pigs and their houses, though you always said that the wolf didn't deserve all of what happened to it. I admire how sympathetic you are Elie, where I am right now, makes it hard for me to sympathize with others, I sometimes forget that they are just people like me. Times like this I wish I had your sympathetic nature for a change. Sleep tight my little Elie, I'll try to write more often.

Sweet dreams, from Dad"

He passed by the neighborhood, it changed so much in the span of three years, some people recognized him, Arthur waved at them but oddly enough he wasn't met warmly. They all looked at him with a sense of pity, sadness, and a look of uncertainty. He didn't have time to understand those expressions, all he had time for was running up the stairs up his sister's porch. He knocked on the front door, rang the doorbell for good measure. It took a while but the door eventually opened, inside was his sister looking up at him like a ghost. Before he could even greet her or even question her, she lunged at him, clutching him and sobbing.

"Eva calm down, it's me! I'm back, I'm back okay? It's alright." He tried to calm her down, Evangeline only shook her head, thick streams of tears dripping down her cheeks to her chin, she was spilling nonsense, none of her words making it through the film of pain and sorrow she held. Arthur had asked where Amelie was, Evangeline online sobbed, making out a single phrase that shook Arthur.

"Elie's, gone, I'm so sorry Arthur," she said through pauses and hiccups, Arthur could feel a thump against his chest. What did she mean gone? Did Amelie run away? Where could she have gone then? Looking for him? It was a classic tale, a child trying to run away in search of their parents, did Amelie run away for that? But that didn't explain how his sister was on the verge of hysteria.

Evangeline, who couldn't finish her sentences, simply led him out of the house, the people who he passed by nodding their head solemnly as they saw the poor woman, some talking in hushed whispers. What did this all mean? His questions were soon answered as they approached the cemetery, a cold gush of wind almost knocking him off his feet. He slowly walked through the gravel path, passing through gravestones, at the end of the path there he saw a tombstone.

It took him a while to be able to read what was engraved, not that it was hard, but it was simply for the fact his brain couldn't quite understand how it was possible.

Amelie Jane Oswald

Loving niece and daughter

Born May 12, 1×××

Died July 17, 1×××

"May the Lord guide you to the vibrant paradise that is His kingdom"

There it was, along with the doll that he thought she lost sitting on the cold stone, he felt sick to his stomach, gradually losing balance and dropping to the ground right in front of the tombstone.

What the hell was this cruel joke? Was the war not enough? Was crawling through hell and back laughable enough for him to go through another? Who was cruel enough to decide that it wasn't his safety that was on the line but rather his daughter? After all those years ensuring that his daughter had a safe place to call home, he'd come home alive to her being dead? He heard his sister sobbing louder.

"The doctors said, that the paint poisoned her gradually, I was already too late to notice." She sobbed, choking apologies after apologies, begging for mercy as she dragged herself with guilt to her own candle hell. Arthur didn't know who to blame, he wasn't even in any headspace to blame anyone but himself. The paint? The one he gave her for her birthday? The birthday he wasn't even there to celebrate? The way he left her with sour words off to fight a war he wasn't sure he'll come back alive? Who else to blame but him?

On top of the tombstone there was a small space, a box filled with letters, his letters, but among them were a few folded paintings of him, presumably painted by Amelie, even Arthur couldn't have imagined how talented she was, on the back of one of those paintings Amelie wrote a message.

"For each passing day, I come closer to forgetting what you look like, and each day, the strokes of my brush feels less confident as I paint your face. Were your eyes always this shade of brown? Or did you not have crinkles under your eyes whenever you smile? I pray for your safety, whatever the cost, even if it's for my own. Thank you for the letters, thank you for the paint, and most of all, thank you for being my father."

Clutching the painting, he kept it close to his chest, keeping it dry from his tears, desperately holding onto it as if his life depended on it. The war showed him the depravity of humanity, how far someone is willing to go to prove a point. It showed him how truly dispensable his life was, and how the lives of others were just numbers and statistics. He saw others drop dead in a flash, he knows how life works and how life inevitably ends. He has come to terms with people dying.

But as his pupils shook, eyes focusing on the grave of his beloved daughter, it was only then he understood the fickleness of life. He was ready for others to disappear, but not his Amelie. But truth stands that no matter how much you've prepared, life does not discriminate and does not know merit. Life does not consider who to keep and who to take, it does not matter who he was or what he has done. Life does not value honor nor the good you've done, it didn't judge who was guilty or who was innocent. It doesn't take into account who he is ready to lose and who he's willing to kill just for someone to stay alive. Life was just as simple as it gets, yet that's what seems to be the cruelest thing.

Rest well my beloved Amelie, I'll be here for your next birthday.

You’ve just got back from the war after several years. Each day you wrote to your daughter. You came back to find your letters piled on her grave.