I woke before the sun peeked over the horizon but couldn’t stop thinking about him.

The immense guilt I felt was almost overwhelming.

I was betraying everything I’d been taught, but there was a defiant part of me that didn’t care.

If I’d known Matt was alive and waiting for me, would I have entered the Priesthood? I hated questioning my life choices as I didn’t know for sure which path I would have chosen back then.

I knew I was committing a mortal sin, and my path to the light was no longer guaranteed, but I battled with two halves of myself.

Do I abandon everything I’ve worked toward, follow the path to righteousness or forever wonder whether my life could be filled with a different kind of love? Should I forget him, retreat back into the shadows or follow my heart and find out?

I knelt at the altar, praying the Lord would forgive me, as deep down I already knew what I had to do.

There was still a spark between us, and I’d lost him once before and wouldn’t do so again.

Underneath, he was still that same sweet guy – of that I was certain, but our lives had taken different roads the day I walked out of the children’s home, leaving him behind to start a new life.

Back then I was Bradley Jacobs. Orphan. A kid nobody wanted, well that was until my adoption. It was the happiest and saddest day of my life. I felt sad leaving Matt behind but loved from the very moment we met and honoured my parents had chosen to adopt me.

Now, I was Father Declan Jacob Ryan. Married to God.

I couldn’t reconcile my past and present, seeing both as two separate entities.

The day after I left the children’s home my new family and I boarded the ferry for Dublin, eventually settling in Portmarnock. I had a brilliant life, made great friends I’m still in touch with today, but I could never forget Matt. Time and again I tried to contact him, but Mrs Wiggins would never allow me to speak with him – she said I had to forget my old life and I did try, but then came the news that shaped my life.

My parents sat me down, and by that point in time, I knew them well enough to realise when something was wrong.

Matt had been killed in an accident, my Mum said, matter of fact. From what I was told, he’d been messing about near a cliff edge with one of his friends from the home and fallen, killed instantly. I was still sad at leaving him behind and the guilt never left me, but the news I’d never see him again, and it was beyond my control, I lost myself for a while.

But I should have known better, and despite the relationship I had with my parents, they never liked anybody to know we weren’t related by blood, preferring to keep up the pretence I was their natural child, rather than adopted. I was never able to fathom why as I was beyond proud they chose me. They never understood my connection to Matt, or the home I’d spent the majority of my life in. I gave up trying to make them see it from my point of view. His death put an end to my constant badgering of them to allow me to visit him or invite him to live with us. Mrs Wiggins would never permit me to speak with him when I called, and I resented her for the longest of times. I prayed often to Matt, hoping he could hear me. I cried, the anguish too hard to bear, praying he would forgive me for something I couldn’t forgive myself for.

As the years passed, I never forgot Matt, but locked him away in a part of my brain – the part that wouldn’t hurt me.

And then, my life changed dramatically with the calling.

I made a pilgrimage of sorts to the place Matt had supposedly died. Standing on that cliffside, basking in the warm rays of the sun, I heard God speak to me. I knew what I had to do, and any connections melted away, allowing me to move forward. That was the day I let Matt go. In my heart, I believed he was happy in Heaven, and that one day, we would be reunited.

My religious calling surprised me as much as anybody else, but it was what I felt I had to do. I think back now and wonder if it was a calling, or a way for me to deal with the grief of losing Matt.

I wanted to give something back to the world, to make sure abandoned kids in the same situation as I’d been in had somebody to talk to, somewhere to go when they felt lonely, or scared.

It was my religious calling that led me to discover the truth about Matt, and then, my dad took ill, and sadly died, but in his possessions, I discovered a letter written to me where he confessed the lies that were told. He hated the fact my mother had convinced him to go along with the lie, but her pride wouldn’t let her admit she couldn’t carry her own children. Once over the shock Matt was still alive, I found out where he was living and did all I could to ensure I was posted in Liverpool. I just had to find a way of tracking him down.

I can still remember the shock on Mrs Wiggins’ face when she opened the door to the home, scrutinising me with a look that told me she recognised me, but couldn’t place from where.

“Hello, Mrs Wiggins. Do you remember me?” I asked.

“Refresh my memory, dear,” she said, and I recall thinking she should have retired years before.

“My name is Declan Ryan,” I answered.

“The name doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Maybe you’ll remember me by my name before I was adopted – Bradley.”

The look on her face was priceless. “After all this time.”

“You know why I’m here, don’t you?”

“Matthew,” she replied.

“Do you know where he is?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with that. I promised your mother I’d never help reunite the two of you, and when she called not long ago to ask if I’d heard from you, I re-iterated that promise.”

“What did we ever do to you?”

“Not you – Matthew was a horrible little boy, trying desperately to corrupt you. Do you really think we had no idea as to the nature of your relationship when you were growing up in this place?”

“What of it?”

“Unnatural,” she hissed.

“So, you lied to both of us and made each believe the other dead. You talk of evil, well look in the mirror and you’ll see it staring back at you.”

I didn’t want to hear any more of what she had to say, and I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of begging or letting her think she’d won. I turned around and walked away, hearing her slam the doors.

I’d find Matt my way.

At a loss of where to go next, social media had been my last hope and luckily for me, he still had the same name and pointed me in the right direction. With the help of an investigator, it wasn’t long before I found him.

He wasn’t married with children – far from it. It seemed he led his life the way he had when he was in the home, just as he wanted to.

The fact he was working as a male escort didn’t surprise me at all, nor was the fact he’d grown up to be the most handsome man I’d ever laid eyes upon.

Despite the elation I felt at discovering he was still alive, there was bitterness for the lies my parents told me, and I found I couldn’t forgive my mother for her part in the deception and for a few years now, I’ve had no contact with her. I resented what they had stolen from me, and beside the lost years I could have had with Matt, there was an internal rage that I allowed myself to feel conflicted over my feelings for him. I convinced myself the love I felt was just like I would have felt for a brother, but seeing the picture of him alive and well, the feelings were still there – it hadn’t been a childish crush. I was as much in love with him now as I was then.