Until my last breath

12

"It must be so hard on you, Rita. All alone like this at such a young age." The woman's voice drips with sympathy, her hand reaching out to pat my shoulder as if I might crumble if she doesn't hold me up.

I take a deep breath, swallowing down the urge to roll my eyes. This is the hundredth time I've heard those words tonight, and all I can manage is a small nod, forcing the corners of my mouth to turn up politely. "It is hard. I guess," I whisper, hesitantly, unsure what else there is to say.

Sarah wasn't kidding when she said the room would be full. I've been going around in circles, shaking hands, and offering smiles for hours. Not a single person has brought up anything outside of my mother, or how tragic it all is for me, as if I've become nothing more than the shadow of my grief.

Another person leans in, voice low and tender. "I'm sure she's looking down on you, so proud of how you're holding up." I nod again, my jaw tightening, feeling the familiar pity spark in their gaze as they scan my face. It's like they're searching for cracks, for some sign that I'm barely holding it together. I can't tell if they're more interested in comforting me or seeing me fall apart.

The touches on my back, the solemn, knowing looks—they make me feel like I'm drowning. I came here tonight for strength, for a moment to honor my mother without losing myself in the process. But all I feel is how people see me—fragile, breakable, incapable of truly overcoming this loss. I thought I could prove to them—and to myself—that I could be strong. Instead, I feel like I'm being pulled down by a thousand hands, each touch, each word, weighing me down with their pity.

As my thoughts begin to spiral, the words of the person in front of me fade into a dull hum. I nod, trying to keep my focus, but the truth is I have no idea who I'm even talking to anymore.

"Excuse me," I murmur, my voice barely steady.
I need air. Now.

The room is getting way too closed up for me, i can feel my body trembling. I quickly excuse myself and start looking around, trying to find any kind of balcony before anyone strikes up a conversation with me.

In the corner of the room, I spot a tall glass door leading to what I can only assume is a backyard. Without a second thought, I make my way toward it, my heart racing as I throw myself outside.

The balcony unfolds before me, revealing a massive backyard bathed in moonlight, with tall trees swaying gently in the night breeze. A fountain sits in the center, water dancing and reflecting the light like diamonds scattered across a dark velvet canvas. The sight momentarily knocks the air back into my lungs. I take a deep breath, gripping the railing tightly, my hands trembling as tears begin to roll down my cheeks.

With each whimper I let out, my breathing slows, and I bite down hard on my bottom lip, desperately trying to hold back the emotional tide crashing over me. My grip tightens on the railing, and for a moment, I feel my vision narrowing, as if the world is closing in.

"Are you okay?" a voice suddenly breaks through the chaos in my mind, pulling me back from the edge.

I quickly wipe my tears with the back of my hand and turn around to face whoever is talking to me.

Shit.

We both stand still for a few seconds, the air thick with unspoken tension.

"Are you okay, Rita?" Gavi asks, his eyes slightly widening as he takes in my appearance.

"Uhm, yes." I look around, searching for an escape, but I can't seem to find the words.

"Are you sure?" he presses, concern etched into his features.

"Yeah, it just got overwhelming in there, and I needed fresh air." I chuckle nervously, but it sounds hollow even to me.

"Seems like the right place to go to." He steps closer to the railing, taking in the view with an appreciative nod.