The Spanish and the American

How do I say goodbye?

(A/N: FUCK ME BRO, IDK why i did this, this chapter made me cry as i was writing it. sorry....)

The next morning, as the soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, Avery stirred from her sleep. With a yawn, she sat up in bed, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Is mama better now?" she asked eagerly, her voice filled with hope.

Javier smiled gently at her eagerness, his heart heavy with worry for what he had to tell her. "Let's have some breakfast first, and then I'll ask avia for you," he replied, his voice gentle but strained.

Avery nodded eagerly, her small feet padding across the floor as she made her way to the kitchen. Javier watched her go, a lump forming in his throat as he realized the weight of the news he was about to deliver.

With a heavy heart, Javier picked up the phone and dialled Carmen's number. As the phone rang, he could hear the sound of tears in her voice when she answered.

"She's back from surgery, but it's not good," Carmen said, her voice trembling with emotion. "They don't think she'll make it."

Javier's heart sank at the news, his mind racing with the weight of what he had to tell Avery. As he glanced over at her, his heart broke at the sight of the 5-year-old, her cheeks puffed out as she tried to fit as much cereal into her mouth as possible, the milk running down her chin.

In that moment, Javier realized the depth of Avery's longing to see her mama, a longing that would never be fulfilled

As Carmen's tearful voice filled the line, Javier's heart ached with a mixture of sorrow and uncertainty. "How will we tell Avery?" he asked softly, his voice heavy with emotion.

Carmen's response was a shaky sigh. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice wavering. "Is she still asking to see her mama?"

Javier's heart sank at Carmen's words, the weight of their situation pressing down on him with crushing force. "Yeah she is, but I don't know if that's a good idea," he murmured, his voice strained. "She's so young, and I don't know how she'll react."

But Carmen's voice was filled with conviction as she spoke. "She needs to say goodbye," she insisted, her words laced with sadness. "Let her have that."

Javier hesitated, the weight of Carmen's words sinking in. He knew she was right, but the thought of Avery seeing her mother in such a state filled him with dread. "But what will she see?" he asked, his voice trembling with uncertainty.

Carmen's response was gentle but firm. "She isn't badly beaten up by the crash," she explained softly. "It will just look like she's sleeping to Avery."

With a heavy sigh, Javier conceded defeat. "Okay," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "We'll come."

As he hung up the phone, Javier felt a wave of sorrow wash over him, knowing what lay ahead. Both he and Carmen were heartbroken, not only at the impending loss of their only child, but also at the knowledge that their 5-year-old granddaughter was about to lose her mother. It was a burden too heavy to bear, a pain too deep to comprehend. But in the midst of their grief, they knew they had to be strong for Avery, to give her the chance to say goodbye to her mama, no matter how heart-wrenching it may be.

Javier made his way over to Avery, his heart heavy with the weight of what was to come. He tried to put on a brave face as he looked at her, attempting to muster a smile at the sight of her puffed cheeks and milky face.

But Avery's innocence shone through, her eyes bright with anticipation as she finished her cereal and asked, "Can we see mama now?"

Javier's heart clenched at her words, knowing what lay ahead. "Yeah, we can," he replied softly, his voice tinged with sadness. "Come on, let's go get ready."