Only, Always, and Forever You

21 - Tomorrow

Cole's POV:

Ever since I left her apartment building, I've been racking my brain, trying to figure out what could possibly be happening tomorrow.

Is it her birthday? Is it her mom's birthday? No, she looked too sad for it to be a birthday. Unless she doesn't like birthdays— I kind of don't like birthdays either.

I'm thinking about her too much. What happened to me staying away?

But I'm in too deep now, and we all know that...

I wouldn't have thought that much about 'tomorrow' if it weren't for her being willing to miss school for it. Amara is not one to miss school, unlike me. She is always there, and she almost never misses unless she absolutely must.

So this must be one of those musts.

Except, I know it's not because she's sick since I just saw her, and I know it's not because she's going on vacation because she said she'll be back on Thursday, so what could it possibly be?

Honestly, if she's not going to school then there isn't a reason for me to go either, so why not skip?

Instead of taking my normal route to school, I go to a small café on the other side of town instead. It's actually somewhat close to Amara's apartment.

I order my usual coffee and croissant, and I sit down in a booth with my new book. The book Amara chose for me, to be precise. I never say this, but I have to give it to her: the girl has incredible taste. I'm continuously impressed.

I settle down and I'm about 10 pages in when the bell of the café door rings. I keep my head in the book, unfazed and uninterested in whoever it is, that is, until I hear her voice.

She speaks in a soft tone, and I swear I hear her voice breaking every few words— like she's about to cry. She orders one thing and then waits for the barista to bring it to her.

She's wearing a large dark green cardigan and a black maxi skirt that reaches her mid calf. Her hair is in a braid, similar to the one I did yesterday, and she is wearing no makeup. Her headphones are in her ears and she's staring down at her feet, very obviously zoning out. She also holds a small bouquet of tulips in her hand.

"Here you go," the barista says, passing a small bag to Amara, who accepts it graciously and quickly walks out.

Without even thinking about it, I decide to follow her. Not in a creepy way, I swear, I just want to make sure she's okay. Well, obviously she isn't, but I want to make sure she will be.

She walks fast down the street, but I'm able to keep up with her since one of my strides is equal to about two of hers.

She turns and walks down a path, which is covered by trees and overgrown vines; it feels like we are entering the secret garden. I follow after her, and I cautiously trace her steps, being careful to stay hidden in the greenery.

Once we reach the end of the path, I make sure to stay out of her line of sight and watch her walk over to a... headstone?

That makes a lot more sense.

I watch as she opens the brown bag from the café, revealing a blueberry muffin. She breaks it in two and places one half in front of the grave marker, holding onto the other half herself.

"I brought you your favorite," she states softly, just audible in the quiet garden.

I watch as her hands slightly shake and her bottom lip trembles, eventually breaking into a frown. A single tear falls from her eye, but she's quick to wipe it away with her sleeve. I wish I could walk over there and hug her as tight as I can, never letting go.

But I can't. I know I shouldn't interrupt this moment, so I stay quiet so she doesn't find out that I'm even here. It's harmless to watch from a distance as long as I don't do anything, right?

"Today marks 4 years. I thought time would lessen the pain, but I feel like it's only growing," she says quietly, "Andrés is never home anymore, and when he is, he acts like a jerk. And mom, mom is working two jobs just to keep us afloat. I never see her anymore either."

My heart breaks for her. I wish I could take all of her pain away. I wish I could give her a family, stability, and happiness. I wish I could make it so that she never hurts again. But I know I can't.

"It's not the same with out you. It never will be. I miss you so much, Papa," she cries as she lays down beside the headstone, curling up into a ball and hiding her face in her palms.

I should've known. I should've known when she dismissed my question about her dad. I should've known when her and Andrés were talking about 'tomorrow.' I should've known.

Yet there I was, throwing a pity party and complaining about my very lively dad, while she is never going to see her's again. God, I'm an asshole.

I stay there for a while, watching to see if she gets up or stops crying. But she never does. I don't know what I'm thinking, and I don't know what takes over me, but I can't just sit here and watch her cry any longer. I can't watch and do nothing about it.

I get up and slowly walk towards her. She doesn't notice me approaching through her sobs and cries, but I sit down next to her, facing her father's grave.

After a minute, her cries start to ease and she looks up with red, puffy eyes. She wipes the tears from her face and looks at me incredulously.

"Why- why are you here?" she asks softly, her voice raw from all of the crying.

"I don't know," I reply calmly and truthfully, "I just couldn't let you be alone like this. Not for any longer than you already have been."

At this, she hugs me tightly. I pull her closer into my body, and I feel her relax. I brush through her long, black hair with my fingers and lightly kiss the top of her head as she cries into my chest.

We sit like this for a while. Not talking, not moving— just her crying and me holding her tightly.

I never do this. It's not who I am to comfort people when they're upset. Usually I don't care, but that's where she's different. I do care about her. I care about her so much that it hurts me to see her suffering. I hold her as tight as I possibly can in my arms, not letting go for a second and not leaving her alone again.

I can't believe how much of an idiot I was to avoid her earlier this week. I avoided her while she was going through this. I left her even more alone than she already was because I thought it would be better for her. How could I be so stupid?

God, Cole!!

I hear her crying die down as her body goes limp in my arms. I look down and see her fast asleep. She must have burnt herself out from all of her crying.

Without letting her go, I reach over and grab the tulips she was holding earlier and gently set them in front of the headstone.

"I promise you, Mr. Fadel," I whisper very quietly to the grave marker so Amara doesn't wake up, "I'll take care of her for you. I'll protect her from anything that can hurt her. I'll be there for her when no one else is. I'll make sure she smiles more than she frowns, and that she laughs more than she cries. I promise you."

I pick Amara up so that she's draped over my arms bridal style, and her hands wrap around my shoulders as her face stays close to my chest. She weighs very little, so it isn't difficult to bring her from the garden all the way back to my car outside of the café.

I set her down carefully in the passenger side, and I buckle her seat belt for her before getting in the car myself.

Before I take off, I brush the rogue hair strands out of her face and wipe away the dried tears on her cheeks. Even when she's passed out after crying, she looks beautiful.

How is that even possible?

I finally drive away and toward her apartment, careful not to hit any potholes or break too hard so that Amara doesn't wake up.