Chapter 18 - Eleven Months After Elena
Grief doesn't end when happiness begins.
That was something I learned after marrying Dominic.
You can be deeply happy and still miss someone.
You can laugh at breakfast and cry at lunch because a song plays.
You can build a future without betraying the past.
On the second anniversary of Elena's death, Dominic became quiet.
I knew better than to force conversation.
We took Leo to the cemetery.
He was old enough now to understand simple things.
“This is Mommy Elena,” I told him.
He touched her photograph.
“My first mommy?”
“Yes.”
“She loved me?”
Dominic turned away.
I answered.
“More than anything.”
Leo thought.
“You love me?”
I smiled.
“More than anything.”
He seemed satisfied.
Children understand love better than adults.
They don't always need categories.
We sat beneath a tree.
Dominic told Leo stories.
How Elena sang badly in the car.
How she stole blankets.
How she once bought twenty-seven plants and forgot to water them.
Leo laughed.
“Mommy silly.”
Dominic smiled through tears.
“Yes.”
Later, Leo ran among the fallen leaves with Marisol.
Dominic and I remained near the grave.
“Eleven months,” he said.
“What?”
“That was how long I lived after Elena died before you walked into my life.”
“I didn't walk into yours.”
“No?”
“You entered my restaurant with a screaming baby.”
“Fair.”
He smiled.
“I thought those eleven months would never end.”
I took his hand.
“You survived.”
“Barely.”
“Still counts.”
He looked at me.
“You know what frightened me most?”
“What?”
“When Leo reached for you.”
“Because I looked like Elena?”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“Because for one second, I wanted to believe you were.”
The confession didn't hurt anymore.
“I understand.”
“I hated myself for it.”
“You were grieving.”
“But then you started talking.”
I laughed.
“And ruined the illusion?”
“Immediately.”
“Good.”
“Very.”
He kissed my forehead.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Those words had taken us months.
Now they felt ordinary.
Which made them better.
That evening, we returned to Orelio.
Victor had preserved Elena's portrait.
Beside it now hung something new.
A family photograph.
Dominic.
Me.
Leo.
Marisol.
Sofia.
And between the frames, a small plaque.
FOR THE PEOPLE WE LOST, AND THE FAMILY WE STILL GET TO CHOOSE.
I stared.
“Victor.”
He shrugged.
“Customers like sentimental things.”
“You cried while ordering this.”
“I did not.”
His eyes were red.
I hugged him anyway.
Dinner was quiet.
Then Leo pointed toward Elena's portrait.
“Mommy Elena.”
Several nearby customers looked over.
I smiled.
“Yes.”
Then he pointed at me.
“Mommy Elina.”
My heart nearly stopped.
Dominic squeezed my hand.
Leo continued eating as though he hadn't just healed a wound three decades old.
That night after putting him to bed, I opened Elena's journal.
One page remained unread.
I had saved it deliberately.
The final entry.
Written the morning of her last day.
I think tomorrow I'll finally meet Elina.
I breathed slowly.
I'm terrified.
A tear fell onto the page.
What if she hates me for waiting? What if she thinks I abandoned her?
I whispered, “Never.”
But I keep imagining something ridiculous.
I smiled through tears.
Maybe someday we'll sit together at Orelio. Maybe Leo will know her. Maybe Dominic will complain because there are two women in the world who know exactly how impossible he is.
I laughed.
Dominic looked over from the doorway.
“What?”
I handed him the journal.
He read.
Then shook his head.
“She was impossible.”
“She was right.”
He continued.
The final sentence was short.
I hope finding my sister feels like coming home.
I closed the book.
For Elena, it never happened the way she hoped.
May you like
But for me, somehow, it had.
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