I need to keep moving.
I force myself forward—through the crowd towards the exit, through the chaos of thoughts and feelings.
And then—
“Chiquitaaaa!”
Her unmistakable, bright and joyful voice.
I turn my head just in time to see Silvia almost running towards me.
She looks the same and somehow different—athletic, sun-kissed skin and an energy radiating from her like she belongs to this coast. Jeans, t-shirt, sneakers, and the kind of smile that makes the world feel a safer place.
She throws her arms around me, and I collapse into her chest. I didn’t know how much I needed this embrace until now. Tears slip hot and silent, but I hold her tighter.
She squeezes back, then leans away, her eyes flashing.
“Do you want me to fly to Chicago and kick his millionaire’s ass? Just say the words. I would love to make him suffer a little.”
Her tone is so perfectly her—deadly serious and wickedly playful—that I laugh through my tears.
This is Silvia. Always trying to lift the spirits.
“I missed you so much, Chiquita!” I manage, wiping at my face. “You look amazing! California suites you!”
“Yes, I know.” She tosses her hair in mock drama, smiling. “Now let’s get out of here! Let’s go home!”
* * *
Silvia’s home is a small house outside the city, so close to the water it feels borrowed from the ocean itself. Seagrass bends in the wind, and waves crash in a steady rhythm against the shore. A small piece of paradise.
We leave my suitcase at the door and walk straight to the beach.
The warm breeze brushes my face, tangling through my hair. It feels like it’s trying to wind my thoughts away.
I stare at the horizon, endless and indifferent.
My fingers find the ruby, its weight a heavy promise against my skin. It blazes with the love in his eyes and burns with the memory of his betrayal. I clench it in my fist, his edges digging in my palm. I should throw it in the ocean, let the waves swallow it whole—the promise and the pain. But my fingers refuse to let go.
This small secluded beach is exactly what I need now— a quiet shore away from Chicago, and the storm of people and painful memories I left behind.
“I feel like this ocean,” I murmur. “Calm on the surface, reflecting the sun, the light… while deep down the darkness swallows everything—life, hope.”
Silvia stands beside me, watching the small waves.
“Della, you know I love the ocean and could talk about it till tomorrow,” she says with a soft smile and warm voice, turning her gaze on me. “But I love you more. Tell me what happened. All of it. The good, the bad… everything.”
I let myself slip on the sand and… I tell her.
For an hour, maybe two, words spill. Not in fragments or nightmares, but whole. From the moment I left Chicago five years ago, through the ruin and silence, the hospital walls, Leah’s poison. Through the numb years where I buried myself in work.
Silvia takes my hand, her eyes wet.
“Chiquita… You walked through hell and you came back alive. You are a fighter.”
Her arms fold around me, strong and warm.
“Forgive me for not being a better friend. I was so wrapped in my studies, and later moving here… I’m so sorry. I had no idea what you went through.”
