ER [wlw]

Chapter 15

I knock on the door to Rani's house, sniffling against my will like a baby. She didn't hesitate at agreeing to let me come over, she was worried. She asked what's wrong and I told her I would tell her what's wrong when I get there.

She cares about me.

It's only a matter of seconds before the door opens revealing her in a graphic t-shirt and some black shorts, her arm still in a sling.

"H-Hey." My voice is weak.

"Come on." Her voice is gentle but full of concern, I try my best not to start sobbing again because that's exactly what I did on the phone with her.

I walk in and follow her through her huge house where I'm greeted by the expansive entryway that seems to stretch out before me. The high ceilings and gleaming hardwood floors give the space an air of understated elegance. It's a beautiful home and I would appreciate it more if I was in a better mood.

Soon we're in her modernly styled living room where she motions for me to have a seat on her grey couch.

I move some of the decorative pillows and sit, her beside me.  "Tell me what's wrong, chinita." Her good hand rests gently on my arm, providing a tiny bit of comfort but it's not enough.

"I-I just found out my mother is dead because of me. She died giving birth to me. A-All my life I've been thinking she died in a car accident when I was 2 because that's what my father told me." I tell her with teary eyes.

It makes sense as to why there were never any photos of me and her.

Her brows furrow in disapproval. "Emma that isn't your fault. Who told you it was?"

"N-Nobody, needs to tell me, it's obvious. If I wasn't born my mother would be alive." I state.

She looks away from me and seems to hesitate before talking. "Before my Papá found my dad he was with my mother... she died a few days after having me from a hemorrhage..."

A quiet gasp leaves me, more guilt filling me but this time for her, as I feel selfish now. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

She holds up a finger, quieting me. "When I found out I thought it was my fault until one day I realized that it was out of my control. Out of anyone's control."

She reaches up and cups my cheek in her hand and the touch grounds me, giving some needed comfort. "It's not our fault, hermosa." She whispers, thumb swiping away a tear from my cheek. The action alone making my heart feel lighter, like it can breathe again.

I see a tear trickle down her own cheek, and more guilt emerges for bringing up her own pain. But her words do to help, and I realize she's right.

"Thank you." I whisper as I reach up my own hand to wipe her tear.

She's right here, and I can't help but think about how easily she reads me, how she's the one who managed to make me feel better in this moment of vulnerability. We just seem to connect, in every way, with so much in common.

It's like we were made for each other. Is it too soon to think that?

I want to thank her, I want to apologize for causing her to feel past pain, I want to tell her how much her words mean to me, but no words come. Instead, there's this pull, a need to be closer to her, to feel more of this comfort, this connection. My heart beats a little faster as I realize what I want to do, what feels so natural in this moment.

Before I can overthink it, before I can talk myself out of it, I find myself closing the distance between us.

Our lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss, and it feels like everything around us disappears. It's not rushed or frantic, it's gentle, almost like a question. My heart races as I feel the warmth of her lips against mine, and for a moment, I wonder if I'm dreaming. But the way she responds, the way her lips move against mine, tells me this is very real.