Dublin. A woman was laying in a bed, surrounded by her long brown hair. Everything around her was white - white light, white walls, white doors. Even her clothes was white. She hated it ; it seemed so artificial, so false. Her pillow was soft, but the blanket was tickling her. She did not ask for another one - her pride was too strong for that. She sighed with great relief. She was glad it was over.

She could hear from the other side of the bed nurses being busy, but she was too tired to move her head to the right to see what was happening. She waited just a couple of seconds, and it seemed to her like an eternity. She looked to her side, but no one was there, of course, because she had send Andrew away. He wanted to be there, but she couldn't bare the thought of him looking at her in pain.

She had an image to protect - she was supposed to never struggle, and to do everything with ease, and grace. How fool of her it had been to build this ideal - all she wanted to do was to break down into tears, of relief, of solitude, of joy. But she did not, naturally.

The nurses finally came back to her. Everything seemed blurry, like she was not quite in the real world- she was exhausted. She could see the friendly faces of the midwives, smiling at her from above, and it reassured her.
"Norà," they said, and though she was lost she knew it was her name, "would you want to hold her ?"

Hold her ?, she thought, and at first it didn't make sense. Then a fragile smile lit her face, and she asked in a low voice, as if she could not believe it herself :
"... Her ?
_Yes, her, and the nurse who answered had the most wonderful smile, it's girl, Miss."

Slowly, she raised her arms a bit, and the nurse gave her a little, little thing. She felt love rushing through her - more love than she had ever felt in a long time. This baby was her hope, her expectations, her everything ; she could not believe how tiny she was.

"Hi...", she said in an uncertain voice, "Hi, Ophelia. Welcome..." And she smiled. The most confused, yet happiest smile of her life.

And thus, Ophelia was born.

"Mother ?"

A voice of a little child echoed in the corridors of the Byrnes' mansion. Ophelia was calling her mother, as she wanted to show her the beautiful white dress she put for her 5th birthday.

She didn't like the corridors of her house : they were too big, too dark, too empty. She didn't like the sense of void she felt whenever she crossed them - it was as if the world has abandoned her. Nor did she like to feel so small and little when she walked between those large walls, for that matter. It reminded her how powerless she was. But she was searching for her mother, and so she had to tolerate them as she walked across the house.

"Mother ?"

Her voice grew more persistent, as she struggled to find her mom. She was only 5 years old, and at first, the absence of response annoyed her. Couldn't her mother at least pretend she cared about her ? Couldn't she be here with her just this time, on this special day ? She became irritated, and her steps sped up. Where could she be ? She had looked in her room, her office..., and she started to run out of ideas.

"Mo - mother ?"

Now the little girl was scared ; she started to think Norà had left her, and went away, leaving her behind. She knew, deep in her heart, that it was a possibility, and that maybe, her mom grew tired of her. What would become of her, then ? Would she be left alone, in this huge house with those big, big corridors ? I don't want that, she realised, and it was the first time she ever consciously thought about it, I don't want to be alone.

"Mother ? Mother ? Is there someone here ?" Her voice was becoming more and more anxious as she ran across the house, not finding anyone. She knew Father was away, and was supposed to come home just before supper, but where were all the servants ? Where were Martha, the housemaid, and Lily, her friend, and Thomas, the young boy who took care of the garden, and Hope, and Lynda, and Miss Ackert ? Maybe everyone disappeared because of some dark magic, and she was left all alone for the rest of her life - she was sure it was possible, because Mother and Father sometimes disappeared right before her eyes, before reappearing hours later. She supposed they could very well vanish for all eternity.

And so it was a frightened little girl who ran outside into the garden, wearing a nice white dress she had simply wanted to show to her mother. But she stopped, because in the garden she found everybody she couldn't find inside - her mother and her father and Martha and Lily and Thomas and Hope and Lynda and Miss Ackert and many more. They were holding a banner, that said :


Little Ophelia frowned ; she felt silly, and she did not like it.

"Happy birthday, Ophelia-dear !", said her mother. But her tone swiftly shifted from warm to surprised and irritated : "Well, why do you seem so annoyed ?"
I was searching for you, and you were not there !, wanted to shout Ophelia. But instead, and she did not quite know why, she just shook his head in silence.

"Well, then, what do we say to everybody ?"
_Thank you...", she muttered.
_What ? I did not catch that, young girl !
_ I said thank you !
_Good.

There was a moment of silence. Ophelia didn't want to speak again, to show how angry she was ; but her mother did not spoke again neither, and so she felt guilty of her behaviour. With an uncertain and low voice, she asked :

_What do you think of my dress, Mother ? - and her eyes were sparkling with hope as she finished her sentence -
__Your dress ? It's good, it's good. You look nice, Ophelia. You do."

And just like that, Ophelia became happy again, and forgot she was ever anxious or angry in the first place. All she wanted was to make her parents proud, after all. Happy 5th birthday, Ophelia.