20. Mariana
Mariana
T he fluorescent lights hummed softly above us, the steady beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor filling the quiet room. The hospital smelled like illness and stale coffee, the scent clinging to my clothes, making my stomach turn.
But none of that matters, not when mami lay still in the hospital bed, her frame small and frail against the crisp white sheets.
Sebastian’s fingers tighten around mine, grounding me as I hesitated just inside the doorway. “You okay?” he murmured, voice low.
I swallowed hard. Was I okay? No. Not really. But I nodded anyway.
Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of our voices, tired but still sharp with recognition. For a second, I could almost believe she wasn’t sick, that she wasn’t slipping further away from me every day.
Her lips curved into a weak smile when she saw me, but when her gaze drifted to Sebastian standing beside me, her smile faltered, then widened. “Mija…” Her voice was thin but warm. “You came with Sebastian?”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Si, mami. He came here with me.”
Sebastian stepped forward, his usual confidence tempered with quiet respect. “Hi, Senora Vargas,” he said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.
Mami scoffed, shifting slightly against the pillows. “Senora Vargas? Ay, Sebastian, after all these years, you’re still calling me that? Dios mio, I changed your diapers, muchacho. You’re like a son to me.”
A small, surprised laugh left me, and even Sebastian cracked a grin.
“Fair point,” he admitted. “Bendicion, mami.”
Her gaze flickers between the two of us, something thoughtful settling in her expression. “So, out with it, since you both are here, does that mean you’re together?
I hesitated, but Sebastian didn’t even bat an eye. He turned his head, catching my gaze, and then looked back at her. “Yeah. We are.”
Mami exhaled slowly, her eyes softening. “Bueno.”
Just that, not I told you so, not it took you long enough—Just bueno, typical mami. It felt like everything was settling into place exactly as it was meant to.
Tears burned the back of my throat, but I forced myself to blink them away as I reached for her hand, careful with how delicate her skin had become. Reality setting in on how little time we have left together leaves me mourning all of the time I let pass us by.
“We never should have let so much time pass,” I whispered.
She squeezed my fingers weakly. “Sometimes, mi amor, love is just waiting for us to be ready.”
I bit my lip, glancing at Sebastian, whose expression was unreadable, his hand still wrapped around mine, and I knew that he was thinking the same thing I was. We had lost so much time, spent years apart, living separate lives.
But now? I knew one thing for certain. I never wanted to live apart from him again. A comfortable silence settled between us, the warmth of Sebastian’s palm against mine.
Then, Sebastian shifted beside me and cleared his throat. “Mariana,” he murmured, squeezing my hand before letting go. “Would you mind grabbing us some coffee?”
I blinked, tilting my head, “You drink hospital coffee now?”
His lips quirked up, but his eyes remained serious. “I just want to talk to your mom about something.”
Something flickered in my chest—curiosity, hesitation. But when I glanced at my mom, she was already watching him, her expression unreadable. Whatever this was, it wasn’t something I was meant to hear.
I swallowed, nodding. “Okay.”
I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Mami’s cheek before slipping past Sebastian, my fingers grazing his arm as I moved toward the door. The door clicked shut behind me, leaving Sebastian and Mami alone.