Prologue
"You have fun with Auntie Aya, alright? Be good and listen to her," my friend and sister-in-law said, crouching down to hug her daughter one last time before work. Alexa wrapped her arms around her mom, then turned to me with a wide grin.
"This is going to be a fun day, Mommy! I love being with Auntie Aya!"
I laughed, leaning against the car as my sis-in-law handed over a small pink backpack stuffed with snacks, books, and who knows what else. "Don't worry. We'll be fine. She's easier to take care of than you give her credit for."
"You only say that because she listens to you," she teased, rolling her eyes. "Just… don't spoil her too much. Her dad and I already have our hands full." She reminded.
I smirked. "She's already spoiled. I'm just the sidekick in this operation." I reasoned out.
Alexa tugged at my hand, clearly impatient. "Let's go, Auntie Aya!"
"See?" I said, giving my sister a wink. "She's the boss here, not me."
We got in the car, Alexa bouncing in her seat as if she had endless batteries hidden somewhere in her tiny body. On the short drive to the grocery store, she filled the silence with chatter about her classmates, a show she was watching, and a dream she had about being a superhero who saved all the puppies in the world.
By the time we parked, I was grinning like an idiot.
The grocery store was packed with Saturday chaos—families stocking up for the week, carts squeaking, toddlers crying somewhere in the distance. Alexa insisted on pushing our cart even though it was almost bigger than her. She gripped the handle like a pro racer, weaving dramatically between aisles.
"Careful, speed demon," I teased, catching the cart before it slammed into a pyramid of apples.
"I'm good! I'm fast! Look, Auntie," she declared proudly, cheeks flushed from the effort.
I added basics, milk, bread, and eggs, while Alexa tried to sneak in things we didn't need. Chocolate bars. Gummy bears. A box of colorful cereal with a cartoon mascot on it. She gave me puppy eyes every time.
"Nope," I said, shaking my head.
"Please?" She pressed against her hand.
"No." I firmly said.
She sighed heavily, then two minutes later asked for something else. I caved on juice boxes, mostly because I was thirsty too.
At checkout, Alexa helped load things onto the conveyor belt, announcing each item like a game show host. The cashier smiled at her, and I couldn't help laughing at how much joy she found in something so ordinary.
We left the store with our arms full of bags, the late afternoon sun already dipping low, painting the parking lot in shades of gold. Alexa's little footsteps hurried to keep up with mine until she slipped her small hand into mine, her fingers curling naturally around mine as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world.
"Can we eat out?" she asked suddenly, looking up at me with wide, expectant eyes.
I glanced at her, pretending to be serious. "Eat out? Didn't we just buy half the snack section in there?"
She giggled, that bell-like laugh that always managed to soften me. "That doesn't count," she said, shaking her head firmly, her ponytail bouncing. "Snacks are just for fun. I want real food. With you."
The way she said with you caught me off guard for a moment, warming something in my chest. I raised a brow. "Real food, huh? And what kind of real food do you have in mind, Miss Alexa?"
She pressed her lips together as if thinking very hard, then whispered as though it was the biggest secret: "Spaghetti. And chicken. And maybe ice cream after."
I laughed, shifting the grocery bags in my arms. "That sounds less like dinner and more like a feast."
Her eyes sparkled as she tugged at my sleeve. "But only if we eat it together. Otherwise, it's not fun."
That simple line made me pause. For all the busyness of my job and the stability of my routine, it was moments like this—small, unfiltered sweetness—that reminded me why I cherished having her around. She had no agenda, no filter, no pretenses. Just honesty.
I leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "You win, sweetheart. Dinner out it is."
She beamed, squeezing my hand tighter, as though I had just promised her the world.
We stopped at a cozy family restaurant nearby. Warm lights, wooden tables, the smell of grilled food drifting through the air. We slid into a booth, and Alexa studied the menu like she was preparing for an exam.
Our food came quickly. Alexa twirled spaghetti noodles around her fork, slurping loudly and giggling when sauce splattered. She reached for her orange juice, a little too fast, and before I could stop her, the cup tipped.
The drink spilled in a bright stream across the table and straight onto the shirt of a man walking by.
Alexa gasped, eyes wide. "Oh no!"
I shot up from my seat, grabbing napkins. "I am so, so sorry—"
The man turned, dabbing at his shirt with a napkin, and for a split second the world tilted.
Luis.
I froze, napkins clutched in my hand. My heart slammed against my ribs. It had been years since I last saw him, and yet in that moment, time collapsed. Same warm eyes, same smile that had once been a constant in my life.
"Aya?" he asked, voice tinged with disbelief. Then he chuckled softly. "Wow. Of all the ways to run into each other again… orange juice, huh?"
My throat went dry. "Luis…"
I should have sat down, should have pulled Alexa close and brushed the moment aside. Instead, I stood rooted to the floor, staring at him.
"It's fine," he said quickly, glancing down at Alexa, who looked like she might cry. He bent to her level, smiling easily and kindly. "Hey, don't worry. Accidents happen." He reassured.
She peeked up at him. "I'm sorry…"
"Really, it's okay," he said gently. Then he straightened, looking at me again. "It's been a while." He said while smiling.
"Yeah," I managed, my voice thinner than I intended. "A while." I nodded.
I couldn't stop myself from scanning him. He was taller than I remembered, his shoulders broader, his presence heavier somehow. Success clung to him in the crisp lines of his shirt, the subtle gleam of the watch on his wrist, the quiet confidence in the way he stood.
But then—there was that smile. The same one that used to undo me without even trying.
For a moment, the world around us seemed to fade. The noise of the restaurant, the clatter of plates, even Alexa happily eating beside me—all of it blurred into nothing. It was just me and him, caught in that unshakable familiarity.
His gaze lingered, searching my face as though he were tracing invisible lines only he could see, lines drawn from a past neither of us had fully erased. Then, his expression softened, and he said the words that hollowed me out from the inside.
"Looks like you're already in that dream, Aya."
I blinked, stunned, unsure if I'd heard him right. My stomach tightened, a knot twisting deeper with every passing second. "What dream?" My voice came out smaller than I intended, almost fragile.
He didn't even hesitate. "A family," he said softly, his eyes warm as they flicked toward Alexa. "A little girl. A pretty little girl." His lips curved into that familiar smile, one that used to melt every guarded part of me. "I'm so happy for you."
The words should have comforted me. They should have made me glow with pride. Instead, they landed like a quiet ache in my chest, pressing down until I could barely breathe.
The air lodged in my throat. I wanted to tell him the truth—that Alexa wasn't mine, that she was only borrowed light in my world. I wanted to laugh it off, correct his assumption, say something that would break the heaviness. But then, as he shifted slightly, the restaurant's light caught the metal on his finger.
A ring.
A wedding ring.
Shining against his skin like a seal of a life I was no longer part of, a vow I couldn't touch.
My heart plummeted. Every memory I had of us—unspoken possibilities, stolen glances, quiet almost-moments—flashed in my head before dissolving into dust.
The truth clung stubbornly to my tongue, thick and immovable, and I couldn't force it out. Instead, I swallowed the ache, curved my lips into the smallest of smiles, and whispered what little I could manage.
"Me too."
But inside, the words felt like ashes.
His smile widened, genuine, as if the words pleased him. Then a voice called his name from across the restaurant. A woman with soft features waved, and he lifted a hand in reply.
"Take care, Aya," he said gently. "It was really good to see you."
And just like that, he was gone.
I sank back into the booth, my pulse racing. Alexa continued with her fries, humming a tune between bites, blissfully unaware of how the ground had just shifted beneath me.
The rest of the meal passed in a blur. I couldn't taste my food, couldn't focus on anything except the echo of his voice. Family. A little girl. I'm so happy for you.
By the time Alexa and I got back to my place, the city lights had softened into night. She was yawning by the time I unlocked the door, clutching her stuffed rabbit as if it held her whole world together. I helped her change into pajamas, brushed through her hair with gentle strokes, then tucked her into the guest room bed.
"Goodnight, Auntie Aya," she murmured drowsily, voice barely audible. Within seconds, her breathing steadied into sleep.
I lingered in the doorway, watching her small chest rise and fall. A quiet warmth filled me, wrapping around my ribs. But when I finally slipped into my own room, closing the door behind me, that warmth turned into something else—something hollow.
I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling as if it had the answers. Instead, all I had were echoes. Luis's smile. The kindness in his eyes. The subtle way he looked at Alexa, thinking she was mine. And the ring. The undeniable glint of it when his hand shifted.
Looks like you're already in that dream, Aya.
Dream. Family. A baby girl.
For years, I had told myself my life was full. A stable career, a car, my own space, and independence, I was proud of. I believed it was enough. It had always been enough.
But tonight—tonight cracked something open. The silence of my room pressed heavily against my chest, as if the walls themselves knew I was trying to ignore the truth. For the first time in a long time, I wondered if maybe, just maybe, I was missing something I hadn't dared to admit.
I pressed a hand to my chest, as though I could hold myself together. From the guest room came the faint sound of Alexa shifting in her sleep, a reminder of the picture Luis thought he saw. The picture I suddenly couldn't stop thinking about.
In the dark, with no one to hear, I whispered the words that had haunted me since dinner.
"Me too."
But this time, they weren't for him. They were for me. For the life I wasn't sure I was brave enough to want—until now.