They were right. It was a tale as old as time. You never know what you have until it’s gone forever from your hands.
I know that now.
But it was too late.
A single tear slipped down my cheek, hidden beneath the black sunglasses resting against my nose. I was still staring ahead when I noticed Mia catch sight of me. She hesitated, then walked closer.
“Hey, asshole,” she said when she stopped in front of me.
“Hey,” I answered, my jaw tightening.
“You got your wish,” she said, eyes narrowing slightly and moving to her stomach.
“Yeah,” I said, watching as they lowered her into the ground.
Mia turned back toward the grave, standing beside me. “I had no tears left,” she said quietly. “I cried day and night for thirty days. Today, there was nothing left.”
I stayed silent.
“Did you know she once told me that if she died first, I should bring ballet shoes so she could be someone different on the other side?” Her voice shook as she reached into her pocket and pulled them out, pink ballet shoes. “I never told her she would have been a great dancer.”
“I didn’t know,” I finally said, my chest tightening. “I didn’t even know her favorite flower until you told me. I never got the chance to find out what her favorite color was.”
“Blue,” Mia whispered. “She always said pink because she was a natural blonde and thought it suited her best. But secretly, she loved blue.”
I smiled.
“What did she love to do?” I asked as I sat down on the wet grass in my black suit.
Mia stopped. For a moment, she said nothing. Then I heard a quiet sniff. “Playing with Daisy.”
“They are together,” I said. “I heard all dogs went to heaven. I am sure she’s there too. With her.”
“Do you really believe that?” she asked.
“I do,” I said. “I never believed in anything until I met her.”
“She was religious,” Mia said. “Before she got here, she prayed for your soul. She didn’t even know you.”
I raised a brow and clicked my tongue. “Too late for that.”
“Zayne,” she whispered. She placed her palm over her stomach. “If this works, promise me you’d stay away.”
A quiet chuckle escaped me. “I couldn’t keep promises, Mia. But this one wasn’t even in my hands to promise.”
She nodded and stood.
I picked up the flowers from the ground and held them out to her. “It took me a month just to leave the house,” I said. “I can’t say goodbye to her yet.”
She took them. And without a word, step by step, she walked toward Emily’s grave. I watched as she knelt and placed the flowers down. She looked back at me and said something I couldn’t hear, probably that I was an asshole, probably something I deserved.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and stood. I turned my back and walked away.
Some goodbyes were hard because we were not ready to say them. Some were easier because we knew the person was meant to leave. But I couldn’t let go of her. I couldn’t let go of the feeling that she was still here, that she would show up at the doorstep, that everything would be okay.
I couldn’t dream without her living inside it.
It was hard to say goodbye when you had to, but didn’t want to.
