Chapter 199 Breathe

Chapter 199 Breathe
I did. I chased Ember around the living room until she finally gave up and flopped dramatically onto the floor. I crouched down and rubbed her belly. She immediately looked pleased with herself. And, God, I was jealous. So damn jealous of that little orange creature. She had no idea what was happening. She just knew when she was hungry, when she wanted attention, when she wanted to sleep. But then I remembered how she always ran to the door whenever she heard the lock turn. How she'd wait there, tail twitching, hoping it was you. And the jealousy disappeared.
There was only sympathy. For her. For your parents. For you and for myself.
We showed your parents our photo album later. For a few minutes, we were just a family sitting around a table. There were still dirty dishes in the sink. Someone had left a spoon beside the sugar jar. The TV was playing quietly in the next room and Ember was asleep beneath a chair. And you were there.
Alive.
You sat beside the window with Lily in your lap, running your fingers gently over her leaves. She was vibrant and thriving. I watched your hand move over her. Then I reached for my notebook.
This same notebook....
I wrote down the time. Where you were sitting. What you were wearing. The way the light fell across your cheek. How pale you looked. The exact position of your fingers against Lily's leaves.
I stopped and stared at what I'd written.
‘What am I doing?’
I didn't know. And then, after I'd written it, I asked myself another question.
‘What am I going to do with all of this?’
I didn't know that either, but I kept writing. This still wasn't me becoming Angel Jimenez. I told myself that constantly. This wasn't obsession. This wasn't documentation. This was memory.
Because words were my thing. They had always been my thing. And they were yours too. So I wrote because I didn't know how else to hold onto something that was already slipping through my fingers.
Saturday morning, you were restless.
You'd been awake for hours without really doing anything. Eventually, you called my name and I found you sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Take me somewhere."
I crouched in front of you.
"Where?"
You shrugged.
"Anywhere."
It wasn't medically recommended. None of it was. But we'd reached the point where I couldn't say no to you anymore. Not when you asked like that. So I helped you into your clothes and I helped you into the car.
And I drove.
I didn't have a destination, I just kept going. Eventually, somehow, we found the beach. We stayed in the car for a while. You were breathing shallowly, your head resting against the seat.
I kept looking at you and you kept looking at the water.
Finally, I asked, "Do you want to go closer?"
You nodded, so I wrapped you in Chloe's blanket.The blue one she'd made with her own hands. I helped you out of the car.
We moved slowly. Every few steps, I wondered whether I should turn around, but you kept going.
Eventually, we reached the sand where we sat. The ocean stretched out in front of us.
And I looked at it.
"It's still your favorite shade."
I heard the disappointment in my own voice. As though I were personally offended that the ocean had the audacity to remain blue.
The waves still came in.
They still went out.
The wind still moved exactly the way it always had.
The sun still rose.
The world had kept all its constants.
I hated that. Because somewhere in my mind, I'd still been holding onto this stupid idea that if I had tried harder, if I'd planned better, if I'd loved you loudly enough, I could have given you more.
Actual Hawaii, not the cabin. Not our pretend honeymoon. Not a beach we could reach by car.
Actual Hawaii.
I could've found a way...I should have found a way because you deserved the real thing.
I looked at you and you were already looking at me. Your eyes moved slowly across my face before settling on mine. And you held onto my gaze and smiled a little. "Always my favorite shade," you said.
I wanted my notebook. I wanted to write down everything. The exact shade of your eyes in that light. The way Chloe's blanket sat around your shoulders. The faint tremor in your fingers. The tiny crease between your eyebrows. The way your lips parted slightly when you breathed. The way you looked at me like I was still worth looking at.
But I hadn't brought the notebook. And suddenly, irrationally, I panicked. I thought I was going to forget. Not eventually, not someday. Right then. I thought I would lose the shape of your face and the sound of your voice. The exact way you had said ‘always.’ I looked at you, trying desperately to memorize you without the help of paper.
You noticed.
"Michael."
I didn't answer.
And then you asked me to breathe.
I inhaled slowly until my lungs filled, then I exhaled. And as I did, something inside my chest finally gave way. That tiny piece of glass I'd been carrying around for months.
The one I'd kept lodged somewhere behind my heart because I was too afraid to touch it.
It broke. And it fell. And for a moment, I felt almost weightless.
The ocean was still blue.
The waves still moved in and out.
The wind still stirred and the sun still climbed through the sky as though the day had somewhere important to be. Everything that had always stayed the same was still the same.
And you were still beside me.