Love Me for Eternity || Bruno Madrigal

Chapter 4: The Outside

TW: Mentions of a Deceased Loved One

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"Papi, what's the outside like?" Four year old Y/N Alcantara asks one day. You could remember how your papi abruptly stopped walking, his grip on your hand tightening. The sheep frolic merrily through the bright green grass of the Alcantara pastures, unaware of the momentary strife their shepherd was in. You tilted your head to the side; what was wrong with your father?

"Papi?" Mateo snapped out of his gaze with a shake of his head. He took a deep breath and slowly turned to face you, his brows furrowed, lip slightly pursed.

"Los siento, chiquita. I just got lost in thought," he leads you under the shade of a tabebuia, the pink petals dancing with the coming breeze. You always loved tabebuias. They were colorful and pretty, and they provided you with enough shade to protect you from the sun. You didn't like cleaning up after the petals, though. They're a nightmare to sweep. Mateo puts his eskrima sticks down, keeping them as close to his body as possible. You always wondered why he always carried his eskrima sticks around, but you didn't make too much of an effort to ask.

"...why did you suddenly ask about the outside, hijita?" Your papi asks. You didn't quite catch the passing hesitation in his voice. You shrugged.

"I was just curious, papi. I saw an old picture in your room and I saw this biiig puddle and there were tiny people beside it!" You said. You were curious at the pictures that your father had; most of them hidden away on the top shelf of his room. There was a picture of that big puddle, though. It was just on his bed stand beside the picture of your mami.

His eyes had a flash of sadness, maybe longing? He looked nostalgic, "Ay, that was the sea, hijita. It's a very veeeery big body of water. It covers almost the entire world!" You gasped and leaned forward, clearly interested in this thing called the sea.

"So it's bigger than the Encanto?" You asked. He laughs and ruffles your hair. You pouted. Papi messed up your hair again!

"Oh, it's much bigger than the Encanto, much bigger than Colombia itself!" He looks at the direction of the flock, seemingly lost in thought, "...your mami and I met by the sea, actually. She was playing on the sand that day, trying her best to make a sand castle. The waves always knock them down, though." He chuckles fondly at the memory, his focus far away. Your eyes widen at the new information. Your mami and papi have seen the sea? And they even met there!

A sad thought crosses you; you wish your mami was here. You wish you could've met her and told you stories. You wish she would give you hugs, cook you meals, and bring you to bed and sing you lullabies.

"I wanna meet mami." You mumbled. Mateo looked like he could break then and there. He missed his wife so much, and he wished she could've seen you before she passed. Alejandra Alcantara always had a weak constitution, so her passing was the price she had to pay to deliver you safely to this world.

She didn't even get the chance to be awake to hold you.

Mateo had to turn his head away and choke back a sob. He felt as if the string that kept him together was snapping at your desire to meet your mother. The grief was gripping his heart in a vice, adding salt to the wound of grief to his childhood friend's—Pedro's—sacrifice. A lump on his throat made it hard for him to speak.

But he needs to speak. He shouldn't break down—for your sake.

"You'll meet your mami soon, chiquita. We'll meet her soon," he brought you closer to him, and now you were sitting in between your father's legs. He scooped you in a big hug and kissed your cheek. You giggled at your father's antics and made yourself comfortable.