Bhí lá fuar geimhridh ann ag Aillte an Mhothair.

It was a cold winter day at Aillte an Mhothair.

Bhí an spéir liath agus an ghaoth ag séideadh go láidir in aghaidh chraiceann Niamh agus Cillian.

The sky was gray, and the wind was blowing strongly against Niamh and Cillian's skin.

Seas siad ar imeall na haillte, an fharraige ag bualadh go fíochmhar faoinár gcosa.

They stood on the edge of the cliffs, the sea fiercely crashing beneath their feet.

Bhí cúpla bliain imithe ó labhair Niamh agus Cillian go fírinneach lena chéile.

It had been a few years since Niamh and Cillian had honestly spoken to each other.

Bhí cúpla focal géar déanta agus anois bhí Niamh ag iarraidh na píosaí a ghléasadh arís.

A few harsh words had been exchanged, and now Niamh wanted to piece things back together.

Bhí sí ciúin agus machnamhach.

She was quiet and contemplative.

D’fhéach sí ar Cillian, a bhí ag iarraidh aoibh gháire a thabhairt ach bhí cumha ina chroí.

She looked at Cillian, who was trying to smile but had a longing in his heart.

Gach Nollaig, tagann siad chuig na hailleacha seo.

Every Christmas, they come to these cliffs.

Ach an uair seo bhí an t-atmaisféar níos tromchúisí.

But this time, the atmosphere was more serious.

Chaith siad bliain eile ar scaradh agus níor mhaith le Niamh é sin arís.

They had spent another year apart, and Niamh did not want that again.

“Cillian,” ar sí go ciúin.

"Cillian," she said quietly.

“Caithfimid caint.

"We need to talk."

”D’fhéach sé uirthi, a shúile lán de chéasadh.

He looked at her, his eyes full of anguish.

"Cad atá le rá?

"What is there to say?"

" ar sé, á iarracht an seanfhéadóg a sheachaint.

he said, trying to avoid the old argument.

"Nílimid mar a bhíomar.

"We're not the way we used to be.

Tá aiféala orm," fhreagair Niamh, a lámha ag crith beagán sa ghaoth.

I'm sorry," Niamh replied, her hands shaking slightly in the wind.

Bhí tost idir an bheirt ansin, an ghaoth ag dul i dtroime thart timpeall orthu.

There was silence between them, the wind growing heavier around them.

Chroith Cillian a cheann, cosúil gur theastaigh uaidh an cúlsolas fiachmhar seo a chrochadh uaidh chomh maith.

Cillian shook his head, as if he wanted to shake off this troubling background as well.

Go tobann, d'éirigh an ghaoth iompaithe go stoirm.

Suddenly, the wind turned into a storm.

Bhí sé fíochmhar, níor féidir leo seasamh staonadh.

It was fierce; they couldn't stand without support.

Cling siad lena chéile, súile glasa Niamh ag bualadh le súile dorcha Cillian.

They clung to each other, Niamh's green eyes meeting Cillian's dark eyes.

Bhí orthu brath ar a chéile, díreach mar a rinne siad sna laethanta deasa a bhí caite.

They had to rely on each other, just as they did in the good times past.

Leis an stoirm ag maolú, bhí an tost le briseadh.

As the storm subsided, the silence was ready to be broken.

"Gabhaim leithscéal as an méid a dúirt mé na blianta ó shin," d'admhaigh Niamh, a croí anois oscailte.

"I'm sorry for what I said years ago," Niamh admitted, her heart now open.

Bhreathnaigh Cillian uirthi fada, ansin ghlaodh amach ina thost, "Tá sé ceart go leor.

Cillian looked at her for a long time, then he softly said, "It's okay.

Bogfaimid ar aghaidh le chéile.

We'll move forward together."

"Sheas siad ansin, ar na hailleacha seo, fliuch ón stoirm ach anois i bhfad níos éadroime i gcroí.

They stood there, on these cliffs, wet from the storm but now much lighter in spirit.

Bhí malairt i radharc.

The view was different.

Bhí Niamh agus Cillian níos láidre, a gcaidreamh le timpeallacht agus gaolta nua.

Niamh and Cillian were stronger, their relationship renewed with a fresh perspective and bonds.

Deireadh bliana nua, tús nua.

The end of an old year, the start of a new one.

Ba é an dúnadh a theastaigh uathu beirt.

It was the closure they both needed.

Ar na hailleacha buaileádh iad le gaoth ach fágadh le grá athbhunaithe iad.

On the cliffs, they were hit by the wind but left with a restored love.