Sa chathair ag beochan le hanam na Nollag, bhí an t-aerfort idirnáisiúnta Bhaile Átha Cliath míle guthanna.

In the city bustling with the spirit of Christmas, Aerfort Idirnáisiúnta Bhaile Átha Cliath was alive with a thousand voices.

Lasrach na soilse, fite fuaite sna gréineacha a bhí crochta os cionn, ag breatnú síos go milis ar na céadta daoine ag sníomh tríd na spásanna.

The lights blazed, woven into the hanging garlands above, gently observing the hundreds of people weaving through the spaces.

Boladh crainn ghiúise ag meascadh leis an bhfuar, ag tabhairt cuireadh dáiríre do na laethanta saoire.

The scent of pine trees mixed with the cold air, offering an earnest invitation to the holiday season.

Bhí Niamh ag fanacht go néarógach ag Geata 12.

Niamh was waiting nervously at Gate 12.

A dathúil aghaidh dírithe ar an gceamara glaonna, déanamh socruithe deireanacha lena chairde.

Her beautiful face directed at the video call, making last-minute arrangements with her friends.

Ba í an duine is sine ina teaghlach, eagraithe agus praiticiúil, ach d’aithin sí, i ngach nóiméad, an folús a bhí sa croí aici ó bhás a dtuismitheoirí.

She was the oldest in her family, organized and practical, but she recognized, in every moment, the void in her heart from the death of their parents.

Luinneog thioránta an Bhleáinscóir chuala Niamh istigh ollmhórán, d’athraigh go bog taghdach nuair a thosaigh sí ag feidhmiú.

The lulling lullaby of the Bleáinscóir that Niamh heard transformed into a soft murmur when it started to operate.

Inne mór agus sásta, tháinig Eoin, an deartháir lár, a bhí socair agus sona sásta.

Tall and broad, Eoin, the middle brother, arrived calm and cheerful.

Bhí an t-áthas ar a shúile ag spalpadh cló mór air agus é ag bagairt Niamh le caoinfhocal is greann.

The joy in his eyes was splashed broadly on his face as he teased Niamh with kind words and humor.

"Dia dhuit, a Niamh!" Thosaigh sé, a ghuth thaitneamhach feadh an seomra ag cur mearbhall ar dhaoine áirithe.

"Hello, Niamh!" he started, his pleasant voice filling the room, confusing some people.

"We have to hatch a plan, don't we?" Dúirt sí, ag féachaint amach, sibhialta, ag iarraidh ar staid na n-imeachtaí roimhe seo.

"We have to hatch a plan, don't we?" she said, looking outward, stately, reflecting on the situation at hand.

Solas airgeadach sa spéir ag treorú a súile.

A silver light in the sky guiding her eyes.

"Sea, tá sé in am. Ní féidir linn leanúint mar seo," d’aontaigh Eoin, ag cabhrú le Niamh.

"Yes, it's time. We can't continue like this," agreed Eoin, supporting Niamh.

Agus ansin tháinig Siobhán i bhfeist nua, bláthanna ina cuid gruaige, a súile ag soilsiú cosúil le réaltaí.

Then Siobhán appeared in a new outfit, flowers in her hair, her eyes shining like stars.

Bhí an bhean óg i gcónaí tarraingteach agus lán de phaisean, ach mhothaigh sí i ngan fios ag a muintir.

The young woman was always attractive and full of passion, yet she felt misunderstood by her family.

Bhí sí réidh don chomhrá.

She was ready for the conversation.

Tháinig an triúr orthu agus chuir Niamh tús leis an gcomhrá fhadbhreathnaithe.

The three of them gathered, and Niamh initiated the long-considered discussion.

"Caithfimid labhairt le chéile, go hoscailte, faoi na rudaí a chuireann isteach orainn."

"We need to speak openly with each other about what bothers us."

Ach níorbh fhada go raibh an plé níos mó ná ceapadh.

But it wasn't long before the talk expanded beyond expectations.

Dearcadh Siobhán mar speal ag lagú.

Siobhán's demeanor seemed to weaken.

"Ní thuigeann sibh, níl fhios ag duine ar bith cad é mar a mhothaím."

"You don't understand; no one knows how I feel."

Níor fhéach siad ar a chéile, gach ceann acu ag troid lena gceisteanna féin.

They didn't look at each other, each wrestling with their own questions.

Ina gcroí, ghoil an Nollaig i dtús báire, ach bhí fianaise an bhróin fós in annadól ag fás.

In their hearts, Christmas gleamed at first, but traces of sadness still remained, growing like shadows.

Bhuaileadh go maith as an agróid i measc.

The argument seemed to reach a settlement.

Caint gharbh, sracadh isteach ann mar an suíomhachas togála.

Rough talk sliced through it like construction sounds.

Ach mar a d’fhuaraigh an t-aerfort leis na huaine fada, bhí scéal eile ag teacht chun cinn.

But as the airport cooled with the lengthening shadows, another story began to unfold.

"Tá brón orm, a Siobhán." Dúirt Niamh go cúramach, a guth ag titim ina céadfaí istigh.

"I'm sorry, Siobhán." Said Niamh carefully, her voice falling into inner sense.

"Níl a fhios agam cén fáth a n-iarrann mé ort rudaí a dhéanamh a luíonn liom."

"I don't know why I ask you to do things the way I want."

Chorraigh Eoin a ghualainn i gcoinne a deirféar, ag míniú gan a thástáíl.

Eoin leaned his shoulder against his sister, explaining without testing.

"Táimid go léir mar sin, Siobhán. Keach éinne againn i gceann amháin."

"We are all like that, Siobhán. Each of us is together in this."

Tháinig ceol binn leis na focail mar a bhí pléascadh mothúchánach acu, na gaolta ag filleadh isteach ar an gcompord.

Their words brought a sweet music as if emotional explosions brought them closer, the family ties embracing comfort.

Shín an Nollaig a lámha imthaiste, ag gluaiseacht ar a laghad riamh uathúil, mar chéile.

Christmas extended its gentle hands, moving with a unique warmth, like a partner.

Ar chríoch díchoilíneach, bhí dearbhú nua ag tagann.

In a decisive moment, a new resolution emerged.

"Déanfaimid an Nollaig le chéile i mo theach," mhol Niamh, an dóchas ag lasadh in a súile.

"Let's do Christmas together at my house," suggested Niamh, hope lighting in her eyes.

"Tá! Beidh sé suimiúil." Aontaigh Eoin, aoibh a mhurcadh agus dearcadh dearfach ós cionn.

"Yes! It will be interesting," agreed Eoin, a smile breaking out and a positive attitude prevailing.

Agus Siobhán muiníneach, ag síneadh a gacáiste leis a croí dearbhaithe.

And Siobhán, confident, extending her baggage with a determined heart.

Ní théann tonnanna oíche níor dícheangail. Bhí an trí úrs ás.

The waves of night did not disconnect; the three were firm.

Scuabadh an fhuar ar shiúl, ag tabhairt gaois nua don chroí.

The cold was swept away, bringing new wisdom to the heart.

Bhí athrú tugtha, ní hamháin do shneacht na Nollag, ach don nasc a bhí eatarthu freisin.

Change had come, not only to the snow of Christmas but also to the connection between them.

Agus mar a d’imigh an uair don Nollaig, tháinig carúil istigh i gcathair mhór, suaimhneach.

As the hour for Christmas approached, carols began to play gently within the peaceful big city.