Going 78 Miles Per Hour | ✓

the butterfly effect (what ifs)

hi! i'm currently in college and i've been desperately missing g78mph, so ive been combing through my notes of the novel and i found this snippet i wrote a while back. i hope you enjoy! 

let's say harlow never contacted dahlia again after the kiss. let's say dahlia stood up to her father, got physically assaulted, and went to his house. he doesn't answer. she gives up. they're done. what happens then?

dahlia moves in with sumaya until the apartment is ready. she goes to college. she comes to terms with the fact she was emotionally abused. she never sees harlow again.

she meets a guy. he's very sweet, kind and gentle. he makes her laugh—the first time since harlow. he doesn't smoke, he doesn't drink. he soon asks her out, he doesn't hold back his emotions. sumaya tells her to go for it, dahlia feels hesitant. (in her heart, it's still harlow. he's still her person).

they go on more dates, then another, then a couple more. he is almost the opposite of harlow. he has dirty blond hair, his smile is radiant and he looks at her through a green-eyed gaze. he doesn't hold back anything, he asks her to be his girlfriend after two months. she accepts. (her heart still beats for harlow).

she laughs with him, she smiles with him. but something doesn't feel the same. he doesn't understand why she's so shielded when her personality is so bright and delicate. he doesn't understand why she doesn't tie her hair, or tame it with shampoo and conditioner. he doesn't understand why she breaks down sitting behind the wheel.

but, he's there. he tries. he sits beside her and comforts her with words (silence was never his language). he whispers sweet-nothings in her ears. he calms her. she needs that. and—he kiss her.

time passed and they get married. she invites everyone in her life. a letter got sent to the soberano-godfrey but only presley came (and as sumaya's date). dahlia's mother takes her down the isle. it's beautiful. it's perfect. it's her special day.

but she still misses him.

they move into their new house. it's a small, three bedroom cottage house that sits on a large acre of land, but it's beautiful. they spend their first night. they smile. they grin. he kisses her. and soon—they have a daughter.

dahlia doesn't want any more children and he's understands. he's so understanding, he's so patient, she always notices that. (but it's not the same, it'll never be the same).

he still doesn't understand, but he understands her enough to leave her in her own state of mind. he doesn't get why she sometimes zones out with earbuds plugged in her ears, or why the stars under a bench are so special to hers (between you and her, it's because sometimes she dreams he'll find his way back and takes a seat next to her). their relationship goes through a bit of communication issues but they resolve it—they always do. (she can always count on it).

sometimes, when he wraps his callous hands around their daughter's wild mane (she gets it from her mother) her fingers unconsciously wanders to the top of her head, like she could feel the phantom of his touch taking care of her. she looks away most times, but on rare days, she smiles through clouded eyes and tells her daughter how beautiful she looks.

it's been twelve years and she's moving on. she hasn't forget him—she doesn't think she ever could. sometimes she feels guilty, knowing her loving husband is there but she's picturing harlow in him. the dark roots of his brunet hair compared to his dirty blond. his icy blue eyes compared to his emerald green eyes. his scowl compared to his grin. it's different. it's softer. (it's still not the same)

twenty years has passed and harlow is just another name of her past. her life is going smoothly now—she's been employed by NASA for over ten years and she discovered a new star. she got to name it herself. it's after her daughter.

she goes home and kisses her husband on the cheek, and he whispers to her in joy when he wraps his arms behind her, when she's cooking in the kitchen. their daughter—teen—strolls into the kitchen, phone in hand, and gags at her parents public display of affection. they laugh at her—he laughs in her ear—and her heart stings. (it's not the same).

dahlia moved on. it's never the same. she hasn't visited her hometown in a very long time, and decided when she heard the news of her father's passing. she visits the grave where his gravestone sits and her fingers dig into the thorns of the flower. her daughter asks who was he to her, she says her past. it's all her past. him and the boy that seems to mirror him.

and she turns away, and she drives. her daughter sits in the passenger seat and they take a steady trip around forgotten landmarks. she goes to her old school—the memories of physics class floods back. she goes to her old house—it's since taken back by the bank. she goes to the park, spotting several of the benches have been rooted from the ground and replaced. with newer ones. clean ones. fresh memories.

except one. under the streetlight, the best place to overlook the stars. she had to squint her eyes to see but she spotted two figures, sitting there, heads pressed against the planks and reading the sky. it's not him, she realized she finds it disappointing. it's time to go. she has a flight to catch. but she can't help but stay an extra couple of minutes. just a few more glances. she'll always know the ending.

it's never him.

it'll never be him.