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Chapter Text

"It's the first kiss, it's flawless, really something. It's fearless" - Fearless, Taylor Swift.

Twenty-six years ago

Riandra was oblivious to the time. Estimating hours or the passage of time in general was a struggle for her. She often heard the familiar grumbles about it being too early for one thing or too late for another, how the hours dragged on, or how her father would lament how time flew by. But honestly, she had no real sense of it. She could tell day from night by the colors of the sky; dusk was marked by the humidity in the wind, and the smell of the earth told her when it was time to water the plants.

Numbers perplexed her; they held no charm or clarity. Clocks felt pointless, and the meanings of those three hands eluded her. The ticking made her anxious, and endless cycle that seemed nonsensical. It was easier to observe the world around her. Roosters herealded in the morning, dairy cows sought shade on scorching days, and cattle grazed from dawn to dusk, shifting locations with the setting sun.

The truth was, Riandra couldn't tell time. Each attempt left her flustered, so she adapted, relying on her senses to guide her. The scents, colors, and sounds of nature were more trustworthy. Unlike Agatha, who constantly struggled with punctuality despite the clocks that adorned her home, Riandra was never late.

With narrowed eyes, she gazed at the sky while her body floated at the lake's edge. The sun shone brightly, not too harshly, casting a radiant glow across the sky, now dotted with a few small clouds. It was definitely past noon. She tilted her head slightly, contemplating, feeling the cool water embrace her. Perharps it was around two o'clock in the afternoon. Stretching out her hand, she noted how wrinkled her skin had become from her prolonged stay in the water. She pushed herself closer to the edge, and her toes grazed the warm, dry gravel. Definitely two o'clock.

She needed to feed the horses by six. A sigh escaped her lips. Agatha was very late.

Her thoughts raced, a whirlwind of ideas that never seemed to settle. Eveyrhing came and went in a blur; it was easy to start at one point, only to find herself lost in completely different musings. Agatha's tardiness nagged at her. It was Saturday; they always; they always met at noon by the waterfall lake trail. If it was two in the afternoon, they already lost two hours, which meant they had only four hours left together. But she also had to factor in the travel time to the farm and the stables. Could Agatha join her today? Why was she late?

"I'm not late!" Agatha's voice broke through the chaos of her thoughts, and Rio lost her balance, plunging momentarily beneath the water. She kicked her arms to resurface, just in time to see Agatha rushing towards her, boots flying off and dress discarded.

"Yes, you are!" Rio shot back, splashing water with her arms.

"My dad thought Mimosa was going into labor," Agatha explained, diving into the lake and swiftly floating towards her. Riandra splashed her face in playful defiance, prompting Agatha to roll her eyes. "I had to help, you know," she continued, exasperated, "but it was a false alarm."

"I told you, it's too early," Riandra shrugged. She had voiced that concern multiple times, but as usual, no one seemed to heed her wisdom. "The calf isn't in the right position yet; you can feel it. And she's been walking a lot. She'll only calve after the full moon."

Agatha let out an amused huff, making a face that Rio cherished - a mix of exasperation and amusement. 

"And since when you're a vet?" she teased, arching an eyebrown.

Rio opened her mouth to respond, but with a swift motion, she pushed off the water, sending a massive splash towards Agatha, who cursed as she swam after her. Their playful chase across the lake erupted into a joyful water war.

In that moment, Rio forgot all about time; she always did when they were together. It felt as if time ceased to exist, as if they were suspended in an alternative reality. She felt boundless, and that was the perfect word for it - boundless. Alive and happy, time held no significance. Nothing mattered. Each day was marked by the colors of the sky, the sound of nature, and the scent of the earth, all mere indicators of when they would reunite.

Fortunately, everyday was theirs.

And each day unfolded like this, and honestly, she had little to complain about. Rio relished every moment; she didn't crave more. She never pondered the spectrum between happiness and dissatisfaction; she didn't need to. Each day had been the same for as long as she could remember, and that brought her immense joy.

As long as she could recall, Agatha had been by her side, and that was their daily routine. Not a single day passed without seeing each other, and when they spent too long apart, it felt like an unbearable weight. They attended school together, sat together, returned home together, and when the responsabilities of the day weighed them down, they eagerly antecipated their reunion.

They were blissfully unaware of time as they splashed through the lake, one chasing the other, laughter ringing out alongside the water's playful splashes. Their joy echoed until wind turned cooler, prompting them to seek refuge in the sunkissed nooks of the large rocks. Side by side, hands intertwined, they always had something to talk about.

Agatha gazed at the sky while Rio admired her features - the crinkled nose she made when squinting at the sun, the faint freckles beneath her eyes, and the way she bit her lip in thought. Agatha was her favorite person, her other half. She could spend endless days in this blissful state, and typically, that was exactly what she did. Yet lately, new feelings stirred whitin her. Whenever Agatha smiled, a flutter danced in ther stomach; when she brushed Rio's hair or kissed her cheek, it felt like a flurry of birds took flight inside her. Her hands would grow clammy, and a smile would spread across her face.

A few nights ago, after spending the night at Agatha's, they lay together, wrapped in each other's arms. Agatha's nose bruised against her neck, followed by a gentle kiss. The warmth enveloped her, a burning sensation creeping into her cheeks, her toes curling in delight. She felt nervous yet thrilled, a powerful urge to hold Agatha's hand and never let go. She couldn't stop gazing at her. And although she tried to supress that feeling, Agatha's affectionate nature made it impossible. Rio wasn't typically fond of physical contact, but Agatha was her exception, and now they were always clutching each other.

She recalled what Bucky said at school - that they looked like a couple. At the time, Rio froze, wide-eyed, but Agatha merely laughed, dimissing it as jealously because he didn't have a girlfriend of his own. She held onto Riandra's hand, intertwining their fingers, and Rio couldn't shake of the thought of it.

"Do you think everyone sees the same sky?" Agatha's voice pulled her from her reverie, and Riandra blinked, frowning in contemplation as she observed Agatha's intense focus on the sky. "If someone somewhere else in the world is gazing at the sky right now, do you think they see the same thing as us?"

"Probably not," she replied without much thought, and Agatha turned her gaze towards her, curiosity sparkling in her big blue eyes. "The sky is the same, but while it's sunny her, it could be snowing somewhere else. It can't possibly be the same."

"So, even if the sky is uniform to everyone, you believe it's different everywhere?"

"I think so." Riandra shrugged, toying with ther intertwined fingers. "Different places see different parts of the sky."

Agatha bit her lip in contemplation, gazing up at the sky. Rio offered a faint smile. Agatha often had such questions; her mind was always swirling with thoughts. She was a constant thinker and inquirer, a captivating trait that made her stand out as the smartest person Rio knew.

"I wish I could see it," Agatha murmured softly. "I wish I could see the other parts of the sky, to see what it's like elsewhere."

"Why?" Rio asked, her curiosity piqued, but Agatha merely shrugged.

"We only see this part. Don't you want to see others?"

"No," she replied honestly. "I quite like our part." Rio shrugged in response, prompting Agatha to roll her eyes playfully before returning her gaze.

"But how do you know you wouldn't prefer another? You've never seen it."

"I don't need to see it," Rio stated, now fully facing Agatha. They were not just holding hands; their feet were gently brushing against each other in a tender, unique manner. "If I went somewhere else, I'd probably just want to come home. There's no better place."

"You don't want to know somewhere new? Discover another places?" Agatha asked, and Rio shook her head, her eyes locked onto Agatha's intense blue gaze filled with questions.

"Do you?" Rio countered, and Agatha nodded enthusiastically.

"I want to go to Los Angeles." The mention sparked a gleam in Agatha's eyes, and Rio noticed the excitement flickering in that vibrant blue.

"Why?"

"I want to go the beach," Agatha said, her smile contagious enough to draw one from Rio too. "Like in the movies, you know? Surfing, walking on the sand, seeing all those people." She rambled on, her face alight with wonder that Rio couldn't quite share. "Can you imagine how many people live in Los Angeles? So many faces to see, so many places to explore..."

Rio remained silent, unsure how to respond. She knew Agatha adored movies, especially those featuring glamorous lives with fancy clothes, glass-walled houses, and convertibles. To Rio, it all seemed unremarkable. She couldn't picture herself in those long outfits, walking on the gray streets marked with yellow lines. There were no horses in Los Angeles, at least not in the films she'd seen. What was the appeal of a house with a pool when she had lakes and waterfalls?

"Don't you want to visit Los Angeles?" Agatha asked with an expectant smile, and Rio shrugged, her expression shifting to one of mild disinterest at the thought.

"I don't know," she replied, not entirely truthful. She had no desire to go, yet she hesitated to voice that, especially with Agatha looking at her so earnestly. "I guess not."

"I do," Agatha stated firmly.

At that moment, Rio felt an unfamiliar sensation - a pang of unease, different from the usual flutter in ther stomach. She frowned and instinctively squeezed Agatha's hand tighter.

"Would you go without me?" The question slipped out, and Agatha's face transformed into a mix of confusion and amusement. 

"What?" she laughed, frowning before leaning in closer. Rio held her breath as Agatha rested her forehead against hers, shaking her head. "Are you crazy? How could I go anywhere without you, silly? You're coming with me."

"What if I don't want to go?" Rio teased, sly smile creeping onto her lips as relief washed over her whan Agatha caressed her face, rolling her eyes with that familiar look - that one that playfully called her silly without uttering a word.

"As if you could live without me." It was Rio's turn to roll her eyes, stifling a smile.

"I can't."

"I know," Agatha replied, smiling as she pressed her forehead against Rio's. "You'll have to come with me."

"But we're coming back home afterward."

"We can return later, but we're going to visit a lot of other places." Rio's expression clouded slightly, and Agatha's smile widened, knowing her reluctance to travel. "I want to see the entire sky with you."

Rio fell silent, lost in thought, captivated by that blue glaze filled with hope. The pang faded, replaced by a flutter of excitement. How could she say no?

"With me," Rio agreed, and Agatha nodded, sealing their decision.

As Agatha's nose brushed against hers, a whirlwind of emotions erupted in Rio's stomach, her heart racing as if it could leap into her throat. Their eyes locked - Rio's brown eyes brimming with questions while Agatha's blue ones held a sense of clarity.

When Agatha closed her eyes, so did Rio. Fireworks erupted within her. When their lips met, it transcended anything she'd seen in movies; it was messy and passionate, delightfully different and undeniably good.

It was Agatha who eventually pulled away, and when Rio opened her eyes, she was greeted by that enchanting blue. A symphony of feelings - little birds, fireworks, waves, and butterflies - swirled within her all at once. And when Agatha smiled, Rio couldn't help but smile back.

Chapter Text

"All the death and the glory, believing they’re one and the same. Now I’m saving my strength for running" – Cavalry, Watchhouse.

Twenty-six years ago

When Javier arrived home, the clock had already ticked past five in the afternoon. However, it was summer, and the sky still radiated brightness, a gift he cherished as he adored long days. He was, after all, a child of summer. He meticulously wiped his boots at the door and removed his hat, running a hand through his damp hair from the heat. He announced his arrival, as he did every day, but barely had a moment to take in the festive decorations before little Benito came barreling toward him with open arms, stumbling in his newly acquired, hurried steps.

"Mi frijolito!" he exclaimed, lifting the boy into the air as his son laughed. Benito clung to his neck, and Javier showered him with kisses.

"Mama! Papa's here!" he shouted in sheer excitement, prompting Javier to chuckle as he set him down, holding back a grin while watching him dash toward the kitchen. "It's Papa!"

With slow, deliberate steps and hands resting on his hips, Javier strolled through the spacious living room, a smile gradually blossoming on his lips. The room was adorned with decorations; a grand "Feliz cumpleaños!" banner hung prominently, and balloons floated throughout. The cake was a sight to behold - three layers high and wider than anything he had ever seen. He marveled at how Maria had managed to pull this off while still keeping up with the little whirlwind now racing through the house.

"Honey?" he heard her call from the kitchen. Still in awe, he leaned against the doorframe, grinning foolishly at his wife, who was rolling sweets in front of a massive tray.

"How did you manage all this by yourself?" he asked, laughter bubbling in his voice, and she simply smiled back.

"Lilia and Eva helped a lot; they just left. They need to get ready for the party too," she explained, turning to the sink to wash her hands.

He approached her, wrapping his arms around her from behind, gently pulling her against him and resting his chin on her shoulder. Maria didn't even bother to dry her hands; instead, she turned in his embrace to kiss him, her smile bright as she caressed his stubbled cheeks.

"Happy birthday, mi amor," she whispered softly, and he beamed, kissing her once more.

He considered himself an incredibly lucky man, recognizing his privilege in life. He had never faced significant hardships; on the contrary, he grew up in a loving family, with good parents, on a sprawling farm of over sixty hectares. He couldn't think of anything he desired beyond what he already possessed. Surrounded by many men, he was acutely aware that their realities were vastly different. He truly was blessed, but it wasn't the properties, the money or the influence he valued the most - it was the joy of his family that filled his heart. 

Despite his wealth, he was a man molded by hard work and the land, just like his family. He personally tended to his farm, overseeing every task and every product. The joy of witnessing prosperity and creating with his own hands was unparalleled. Even with a team of workers alongside him, he had no tolerance for idleness; he was involved in every aspect. People often called that success. Yet, for him, no amount of money could rival the feeling of being home, being loved, waking up each day next to the woman he adored, and seeing his children playing.

"Where's Rio?" he inquired, scanning the room while still embracing his wife. "She was asleep when I left; I haven't had a chance to speak with her."

His expression darkened as his wife raised her eyebrowns and stepped back from his embrace, averting his gaze. She moved a few paces across the kitchen, and he crossed his arms, watching her with antecipation.

"What's going on this time?"

Yes, they were very happy, but not everything was flawless; every family faces challenges. He certainly didn't view Rio as a problem - on the contraty, she was perfect in his eyes - but it seemed not everyone shared thar sentiment.

When Maria became pregnant, Javer had hoped for a boy and grumbled about it for a time. However, all thoughts of having a rough-and-tumble heir vanished the moment he looked into his little girl dark, jabuticaba-like eyes. Riandra was perfect, his sun and stars. She was the missing piece he hadn't known he needed, and to his delight, she bore an uncanny resemblance to him.

From a young age, she was enamored with animals, loved dashing around the farm, and most days, despite his wife's protests, he would take her along to work. Rio delighted in getting her hands dirty, indulging in grapes straight from the vine, and even before she could articulate words properly, she was already feeding the horses. They were her passion, just as they were his. By the time she turned eleven, she was the finest horsewoman he had ever encountered, a true Vidal in every way.

And therein lay the issue: she adored farm chores a bit too much.

Maria remained silent, simply handing him the piece of paper affixed to the refrigerator. Their daughter's report card was a disheartening collection of zeros, with the highest grade being a four in science. He let out a heavy sigh.

"You know she doesn't like school," he replied casually, shaking his head and scratching the back of his neck, his brows furrowing under his wife's serious gaze.

"She doesn't have to like it; it's school, Javi!"

This wasn't a new subject. All the ease Rio exhibited on the farm, with the land and animals, was absent in school; that had been the case since kindergarten. Javier didn't see it as problem, but Maria certainly did. Disliking school was common; many children felt the same way; she simply had other strenghts.

Rio wasn't outgoing; she had always been quiet, a child of few words, and while Maria labeled her a slow, he didn't share that view; she was merely a bit uninterested. While his wife focused on her challenges, he celebrated her talents. She might not excel in academics, but she was extraordinary at everything she pursued. In just a few months, she had taught herself to play the guitar. She didn't invest effort in what failed to capture her interest, and while he recognized that wasn't ideal, he didn't see it as a problem either - not from his perspective.

"I'll have a conversation with the teachers," he murmured, taking a deep breath, but she shook her head emphatically.

"You do this every time, and she continues to rise through the grades without the necessary marks. That's why she doesn't put in the effort."

"Not every child excels in school, Maria," he insisted, frowning. "All that tedious material, thick books filled with words, and now she has what? Eleven subjects?"

"Yes, eleven subjects, just live everyone else in her class who manages to score at least a five!"

"From seven in the morning until one in the afternoon, stuck in a classroom, she despises it," he defended his daughter, prompting an incredulous sigh from Maria. "Sure, she could try harder, but she can excel when she chooses to. I don't force the teachers to pass her; I merely discuss alternative methods with them, and it works because she's reluctant to spend two or three hours on a test. But when asked questions, she know the answers. She's very smart!"

Maria merely shook her head, crossing her arms.

"If everyone else can take a test, why can't she?"

"Because she doesn't want to!" he exclaimed in frustration.

"Then she needs to start wanting to!" Maria raised her voice, and he shook his head, taking a deep breath. She followed suit, collecting her thoughts before continuing. "She must understand that not everything in life revolves around her desires. If her grades doesn't improve, I will have to impose consequences. No riding, no racetrack or stables; she'll be staying indoors." When he frowned, she raised her eyebrowns, her gaze firmly reinforcing her point. "You spoil her; she runs wild daily, but she must learn responsability."

For Javier, the real issue would be if she failed to learn, yet he recognized Rio's intelligence and the multitude of skills she possessed that transcended mere grades. To him, it felt like bureaucracy - nonsense. The school system boxed children in as if they were all identical, but people were unique, learning and expressing themselves in various ways. He didn't believe in punishing his daughter for thinking differently, for having distinct interests, and for not conforming to others. She was exceptional.

But he wouldn't argue with his wife about this, not again.

"I'll speak with her," he conceded, bowing his head in resignation.

"Thank you," Maria said, her voice soft and sweet. He let out a weary sigh, and she leaned in to kiss his cheek. "However, there's something else." Her tone shifted; it wasn't filled with anger of frustration, but rather a hint of suggestion. She pressed her lips together, stiffling a smile, while studying his expressions intently.

"What?" he asked, raising an eyebrown in curiosity. She shyly rolled her eyes, a hint of amusement flickering on her face. "What is it?" He smiled inquisitively as she stiffled an awkward laugh.

"Agatha," she said, her eyebrowns arched and that same suggestive smile gracing her lips, prompting him to lean back slightly and raise his own eyebrowns in response.

Javier sometimes mused that Agatha was the only thing Rio loved more than the farm. The two of them had been inseparable since they were in diapers. While his daughter was shy at home, she transformed into a chatterbox around Agatha. They were always together; if you were looking for one, the other was sure to be nearby.

He wholeheartedly approved of their friendship; after all, the Harkness were practically family. Richard lived on his land, cared for his horses, and was an excellent veterinarian. Javier felt fortunate to have convinced him to move to Darby, to work alongside him. Not only Richard was a dilligent worker, but he was also a good friend, and their families shared a strong bond.

Richard was a veterinarian, and his wife, Evanora, specialized in agronomy. He had met the newlyweds at a rural conference. Both were pivotal to the farm's success, and Javer spared no expense to bring them do Darby; he wanted to collaborate with the best. They resided in a spacious family home just a short distance away, part of the property, and the hierarchy between them was merely a formality. Javier had grown to see them as family, especially after becoming Agatha's godfather.

The girls grew up side by side. Rio was nearly two when Agatha was born, and she was thrilled at the prospect of having a best friend. For as long as he could remember, since they began talking and truly understanding one another, they had never been apart. It was amusing, really, considering how different they were.

Agatha was a social butterfly, while Rio, despite being older, thrived under her wings. Unlike his daughter, Agatha learned to ride much later and enjoyed the farm but not the chores. She preferred school and books, excelling as a studious individual. She loved the animals and watching the births, but her care for them was clumsy, and nothing she planted ever flourished. Yet, they understood each other better than anyonse else. 

Rio blossomed in Agatha's presence; she brought out her laughter and chatter. He often spotted them riding horses or running along trails, spending afternoons by the lakes and watterfalls. They were always together. Although Rio had other friends, like Bucky and Natasha, they rarely saw her with anyone else after school; it was always Agatha.

In truth, it was different with Agatha; he had already noticed it; he knew his daughter well. 

"I think they're dating," Maria remarked with a restrained laugh. Javier couldn't quite decipher whether was disapproval in her expression, but judging by the look she shot him next, he suspected there was some in his own.

"Dating?" he inquired, a frown creasing his brow for a moment. It wasn't that he opposed Rio dating; she was entering puberty, and it was inevitable. But two girls... While he wasn't shocked, it still stirred something within him. "What do you mean by dating?"

"Promise you won't tell her I said anything," Maria warned, wagging her finger at him. Though amusement danced in her eyes, she was serious. He nodded in agreement. "I caught them kissing."

"Kissing... on the lips?" he asked, feeling a bit awkward, prompting her to chuckle at his discomfort as she nodded.

"In the stables. I was looking for Rio, not spying," she clarified, though he raised an eyebrow, skeptical of her claim. "They were all lovey dovey with each other."

He shook his head, deep in thought.

"But they're two girls."

"Javi, they like each other," she replied sweetly, shrugging as if it were no big deal. He continued to shake his head in disbelief. "They're thirteen; it's the age of the first love, right? How old were you when you had your first girlfriend?"

"Eleven," he confessed, somewhat reluctantly.

"It could be worse, don't you think?" she teased, finding his disapproval amusing. "Would you prefere she was kissing that Barnes boy, Bucky?"

"At least he's a boy," he retorted, grimacing in distate.

"Is that really a problem?" Her eyebrows knitted together in genuine curiosity.

"I'm not sure," he admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Maria opened the kitchen window curtains and gestured for him to look outside. There they were - Rio riding Gaia, circling around Agatha on Scratchy. They appeared to be deep in conversation, laughter echoing between them, lost in their own little world.

He exhaled deeply, a sigh escaping him. He could see how happy Rio was; she always lit up around Agatha.

"I was planning to ground her for her grades before we even talked, but I couldn't do it," Maria confessed, drawing his attention. "You should have seen her face when Agatha came over; she was already prepared, waiting for her." She met his gaze with a smile. "It was soooo sweet."

"You don't see any issue with this?"

"No, mi amor, they adore each other." Maria's demeanor softened completely as she spoke about the two, and he found himself softening as well. Maria and Riandra had him wrapped around their little fingers. "I even heard Rio call her mi cariño." She pouted as if reminiscing about love, and Javier couldn't help but laugh. "It's first love!"

He shook his head, feeling a mix of conflict and amusement. Being a father often meant navigating moments where words failed him, unsure how to respond. Ultimately, everything revolved around one goal: ensuring his children's happiness.

"I'll discuss this with her as well."

"Just don't mention that I said anything."

"I promise. I'll inquire."

"Inquire about what?" She playfully smacked his shoulder with the dish towel, causing him to flich, caught off guard by his own uncertainty.

"I'm not sure. I'll talk to her," he said, fumbling for the right words. "Maybe she'll open up a little bit."

***

Javier stood at the front door as the girl arrived, the clock nearing seven in the evening with the party set to begin at eight-thirty. Though he could have scolded them for their tardiness - especially since they needed to get ready - he chose to overlook it, eager for a moment to chat with Rio. He was well aware that Agatha was typically the one running late.

As soon as Agatha dismounted, she dashed toward him, exclaiming, "Happy birthday, Uncle Javi!" Her smile lit up his face as he enveloped her in a tight hug, playfully ruffling her hair.

"Thank you, mi tesoro," he replied, noticing her wet, mud-stained dress. "You need to get ready. We can't have you late for your godfather's party, can't we?"

"No, sir," she responded sweetly and promptly. "I'll be right on time, I promise."

"She'll be late," Rio interjected with a laugh, her tone teasing yet playful, still seated on her mare.

"I will not!" Agatha shot back but quickly turned her attention back to her godfather. "I will not."

"Go get ready, tesoro," he encouraged, giving her a gentle pat on the back. She nodded eagerly and dashed off though the brush toward the other house.

When he turned his attention back to Rio, he found her preparing to dismount. He interrupted her movement, earning a smile and a curious glance as he steadied her waist to help her mount again.

"How about a ride? Just the two of us."

Without a moment of hesitation, she replied, "Won't we be late for your party?" He shook his head dismissively, grinning as he watched her smile grow wider, clearly preferring a ride over mingling at a crowded party.

"I'm the birthday boy," he remarked with a casual shrug, as if that explained everything. "I can show up whenever I like."

That was all the convicing she needed. Gripping the reins, she swiftly turned around while Javier hurried to mount his horse, and they took off, galloping across the open land.

They hadn't been planned a route, but whenever they rode together just for the joy of it, they always found themselves at the vineyard for a stroll, and this time was no exception. He secured both horses, and they continued in silence along the winding paths between the grapevines.

Rio wasn't much of a talker, and he didn't view that as a drawback; he treasured these moments of comfortable silence with his daughter, where they could both get lost in their thoughts while she picked bunches of grapes to share. This was a familiar routine for them. They didn't need words; they simply cheerished each other's company in this moment that belonged solely to them. Sometimes they chatted, sometimes they didn't. But this was the perfect setting for meaningful conversations, and throughout the ride, Javier had been honing his thoughts, ensuring he expressed himself in a way that would encourage her to open up too. 

"So.." he started casually, glancing down at his feet when he caught sight of his daughter's curious gaze. "You and Agatha..." Her eyes widened immediately, and he bit his lip to supress a laugh, striving to maintain a relaxed demeanor, even as he noticed her cheeks turning pink.

"How do you know about that?" she asked, a hint of nervousness in her voice, and he shrugged, attempting to convey it was no big deal.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking."

She fell silent again, now also focusing on her own feet. Recognizing her embarrassment, he gently placed an arm around her shoulders, walking alongside her, allowing a few more moments of silence before revisiting the topic.

"Are you... dating?" he ventured again, earning another mortified look from her. He had to admit: pre-adolescence was quite the amusing phase. She quickly averted her gaze.

"Would you have a problem with it?" she whispered, not meeting his eyes, concentrating on her steps. He furrowed his brows, feeling empaathetic toward her uncertainty. Maria had posed the same question to him, and he had posed the same question to him, and he had responded with uncertainty; he couldn't extend the same awswer to Rio. He simply couldn't. "Because we're two girls," she addded even more softly, her voice barely above a whisper, and in that moment, if he had any reservations, they vanished. He couldn't utter anything that would amplify the smallness she was feeling. He was proud of her, and that was the sentiment he wanted her to embrace - pride in herself.

"Do you like each other?" he asked, his tone now gentler, and she looked up at him, nodding shyly.

"I like her. A lot. It's different; it's not like a friendship."

"And she likes you too?"

"Yes." A faint smile spread across her face, and he smiled back, affectionately stroking her shoulders. "She likes me too."

"Then there's no problem at all, mi cielo," he said. She gazed at him with admiration, clearly impressed, as if she anticipated a different response. He felt a swell of pride; he was fulfilling his role as a good father. "You like her, she likes you - that's exactly how it should be. If you're happy, then I'm happy too."

She smiled and extended her hand. With gentle care, Javier cradled hers between his.

"I thought you'd fing it strange," she confessed.

"Some might, but I don't." She nodded again, and this time, he caught the smile she was trying to suppress. "You know I love you more than anything, right?"

"I love you too, dad."

"You can share anything with me. I will always be in your corner."

"You promise?" She extended her pinky finger, just like she used to when she was younger, and he smiled, nodding as he intertwined his pinky with hers.

"But there's one thing I'm on your side about that your mother isn't..." he said cautiously, and she immediately huffed.

"It's about school again, isn't it?"

"Can you put in just a little more effort? Just a little bit." She huffled again. "You could use your homework time to study with Agatha," he suggested, and she flushed. "You'd get to spend more time together."

"I'll try," she replied somewhat reluctantly, and it was his turn to extend his pinky. Rio grumbled but linked hers with his, bringing a satisfied smile to his face.

***

Present Day

It was a struggle for Natasha to maintain her composure as Evanora wept on the couch, crying like a child. Yet, she knew she had to ramain strong for her; someone had to be the anchor in this storm. So, Natasha kept pacing, inhaling deeply, and running her hands over her face. She was unsure how she was managing to hold it together, but she understood that she must. The knot in her throat was a physical ache, but she pressed her lips together, fighting back the tears with determination. However, when Wanda burst though the door, Natasha's resolve shattered. As their eyes locked - Wanda's anguished green eyes meeting her blurred gaze - Natasha shook her head, and tears began to flow freely down her cheeks.

She fell into Wanda's embrace, a sob escaping her lips as she felt the warmth of her wife's arms around her, cradling her head and holding her face. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself to breath, to think, to find clarity amidst the chaos.

"Where are the boys?" she inquired, her voice trembling with tears, and Wanda gently cupped her face, wiping away the evidence of her distress. No words were necessary for Natasha to grasp the message: take a breath, I'm here for you.

"They're sleeping. Yelena stayed with them. She wanted to come, but I insisted she stay. They couldn't be left alone, and you're needed here," she explained, and Natasha nodded, still sniffling.

She knew Yelena was likely in tears at home. Since moving to Darby, Javier had embraced her like a daughter, often saying their farm was like a mother's heart, always ready to welcome one more. Natasha understood Yelena's deep affection for Javier, but her love for Rio was even stronger, which is why she cose to remain home with the boys.

While Javier was a father figure to Natasha, Yelena viwed him as a grandfather. It may sounded strange to others, but she considered Rio a maternal influence despite their relatively small age gap. When she first arrived in Darby, she wanted nothing to do with that place, but Rio, despite her controversial nature, took her under her wing. They shared an unspoken bond, and Rio became her mentor.

"How is he?" Wanda asked, and once again, Natasha couldn't help but let a sob escape, followed by a grunt that she didn't even realize was coming, spilling into tears once more. No further words were needed for Wanda to understand. "Honey, I'm so sorry." Wanda's expression was filled with compassion, and Natasha noticed her eyes glimmering with tears as well. Seeking comfort, she leaned into Wanda's embrace, and Wanda held her tight. 

"Rio doesn't know yet," Natasha managed to say, her wife's eyes widening in concern as she held her face. "I couldn't tell her, I just couldn't, not over the phone."

"Where is she?"

"I don't know, probably out of town with Bucky," Natasha replied, shaking her head as tears streamed down her face. "But she's coming."

"She left him here alone?" Wanda's voice carried an edge of indignation. "How could she-"

"He was doing better this morning," Natasha interjected, despite her tears. Her gaze was resolute, while Wanda shook her head in disbelief, her expression one of disapproval. Natasha sighed heavily; this wasn't the moment for that. "He was, Wanda! She spent the morning with him; they walked though the vineyard. She left here feeling optimistic, saying he was strong as a bull."

"It's been weeks," Wanda murmured quietly, ensuring Evanora would't overhear, lowering her face to keep their conversation private. "He hasn't been well for weeks, and she hardly stays home, always drinking out there-" 

"Wanda, please, not now." Natasha implored, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just... please," she added, her brows drawn together in worry, and finally, Wanda relented with a sigh.

Their moment was abruptly interrupted by the doors swinging open. Stumbling in, Rio kicked off her boots to rid them of dirt, blissfully unaware of her surroundings as always.

"I was in Bell Crossing, but I rode my horse," she whispered hurriedly while brushing herself off, stomping her boots and awkwardly smoothing her jeans. Natasha could feel her wife's piercing gaze without even turning: "She's drunk," Wanda murmured, disapproval lacing her sigh. "Even at a gallop; it took me over an hour, but I came as fast as I could. What happened? How is he?"

Rio finally took in her surroundings, her flustered expression swiftly shifting to confusion as she sensed the atmosphere in the room. Her brows knitted together upon seing Evanora in tears, and her gaze immediately sought Natasha for answers. All Natasha could do was lower her head, but before she could utter a word, Lilia appeared at the top of the stairs with Doctor Morrison.

"I'm so sorry, there wasn't much that could be done," the doctor's sorrowful tone echoed through the living room. "It was sudden."

"God..." Lilia cried, tears streaming down her face. "I'll call Benny."

"What happened?" Rio's voice cut through the air like thunder. "Where's my father?"

Her demeanor had shifted entirely, her brown eyes wide with urgency and her brow furrowed. With determined strides, she rushed toward the stairs, only to freeze at the sight of Lilia's bowed head. Rio let out a dry, scornful laugh, shaking her head as tears began to form in her eyes.

"He was fine!" she shouted, vehemently rejecting the reality, her gaze probing each person present for answers. "He was fine this morning! I was with him!" she fumed, waiting for anyone to break the silence of grief that filled the room.

"Rio..." Lilia spoke softly, her eyes cast down.

"No." Her tone was resolute.

"Rio, I'm so sorry," Lilia offered gently.

"No!" She shouted, storming out with determined steps.

"Rio!" Natasha called out loudly, but she was already rushing out the door. "Rio!" she cried, but Rio didn't look back, mounting her horse in one swift motion. "Rio, please!"

But she didn't hear, nor did she glance back, galloping away into the night.

Chapter Text

“I got the things I wanted, it’s just not what I imagined. Sometimes I feel like I don’t wanna be where I am, counting all of the beautiful things I regret, pushed away all the people who know me the best. But it’s me who’s been making the bed” – Making the bed, Olivia Rodrigo

Agatha exhaled heavily as she navigated the school corridors with brisk, determined steps. She offered a forced nod to a few teachers and staff members she recognized, unfortunely for all the wrong reasons. This marked the third or fourth time that month; she felt at a loss. Deep down, she understood exactly what needed to be addressed, yet she felt powerless and mentally drained.

Taking a deep breath, she entered the room, feeling a wave of disappointment wash over her as the woman greeted her with a compassionate smile. In one of the back chairs, Nicholas was engrossed in his own world, diligently coloring with a myriad of colored pencils. If he noticed her arrival, he didn't show it, and the familiarity of his indifference only deepened her hurt.

"Hi, Agatha. I apologize for pulling you away from work," Alice, the teacher, said in a soothing tone that only amplified her sense of helplessness. Nonetheless, she mamaged a week smile and shook her head, dismissing the gravity of the situation. After all, she hardly worked anymore. "But we really need to talk."

With a resigned sigh, she sat down in the chair that had been pulled out for her, a few feet away from her son, who remained engrossed in his coloring, his expression as calm as ever.

"I spoke with your wife on the phone, and she wasn't very receptive. That's why I preferred to reach out to you personally. Nicky is a wonderful boy, but you know he requires... special attention." Agatha appreciated Alice; she was attentive and persistent, truly gifted with children. Of all the teachers Nicholas had encountered, she was the most concerned and insistent. Agatha pressed her lips together, picturing how Tessa would have reacted to that call. "He really needs this, Agatha, especially at this stage of development. He requires proper support." As Alice spoke, Agatha nodded, her gaze fixed on her son, who remained absorbed in his coloring.

"Is he falling behind in class?" she asked quietly, her brow furrowing in contemplation as she observed him.

"He's very smart - much more so than his peers, actually," Alice clarified, prompting Agatha to raise an eyebrow and glance at the papers spread on the table. With affection, she studied her son's assignments. "He has a remarkable memory, easily recognizes patterns, shows an affinity for numbers, is already reading with good comprehension, and is writing too." As she listened, Agatha took note of his handwriting - clumsy and slightly uneven as he penned his name, Nicholas, a name she had chosen. "However, he no longer participates." Agatha nodded, already aware. "He completes his assigned tasks effortlessly, but he doesn't speak; he shows no interest in interacting."

Agatha struggled to remember the last time he had uttered a word; it felt like an eternity ago.

From the very first milestones of development, Agatha noticed that Nicholas was unique. Initially, this disctinction filled her with pride. He was enthusiastic, learned how to stack objects early, and could identify numbers and colors, yet struggled with social interactions. Public settings overwhelmed him, loud noises and conversations agitated him. He often cried and covered his ears, and babysitters found it challenging to manage his behavior.

Nicholas faced significant challenges in expressing himself. He often couldn't finish a sentence without becoming frustrated or upset. His communication consisted of gestures, grunts, and occasional outbursts. Tessa described him as having a strong personality, perhaps even anger issues, and noted his shyness. They explored various activities - music, arts, sports - finding temporary satisfaction when he was engaged, but deep down, she sensed there was more to his struggles. He had no friends and rarely interacted with other children, primarily communicating only with family members, and even then, his words were few. This prompted her to research autism spectrum disorder.

Nicholas exhibited signs of selective mutism.

Yet, he still spoke, at least to her. He communicated with Benito, Kate, Alex, and his teachers, but only in comfortable settings with familiar faces. Over time, however, his verbal communication dwindled until he barely spoke at all. Despite their efforts to engage him, he often remained silent, occasionally uttering a word or two when necessary.

"He hasn't been speaking at home either," she confessed, lowering her gaze. 

"Please don't misunderstand me, but have you considered my suggestion?" Alice inquired gently.

Agatha raised an eyebrow, opening her mouth to reply but struggled to find the right words, her expression betraying her discomfort.

"We're working on it," she finally said, attempting to inject certainty into her voice, but Alice's hopeful nod only deepened her unease. "It's a sensitive subject."

***

Still parked, Agatha gripped the steering wheel tightly and took a deep breath. In the rearview mirror, she noticed her son, his head resting against the window, silent and distant, his expression completely apathetic.

"Nicky," she said softly, watching as he turned his gaze toward her, finally paying attention. She furrowed her brows, pleading. "Can you talk to me?" He held her gaze for a moment before returning his attention to the window. Defeated, she closed her eyes. 

As tears threatened to spill, Agatha swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut, determined not to cry. When she finally opened them, her gaze fell upon her hands, lingering on her ring: a thick white gold band adorned with tiny diamonds, delicate flowers sparkling in the light.

She couldn't help but wonder how things had spiraled to this point.

***

Thirteen years ago

Agatha had grown accustomed to Tessa's spontaneous ideas; it was part of her charm since the day they met - a true free spirit, always unpredictable and impulsive. She vividly recalled the moment she received the first Tessa's unexpected invitation, delivered with an air of nonchalance, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. After all, what better way to bond with someone than by travelling together?

They first crossed paths on campus. Agatha, a freshman, had just started her classes, and her roommate Alex was relentless in her attempts to persuade her to attend a senior party. "It's not just a party; it's networking. That's how law school works", she insisted.

The party was hosted at a fraternity house, an overwhelming sight for Agatha, who had never encountered anything of that scale. The placed buzzed with students from every major and year, simultaneously. Yet, the first thing that caught her eye was Tessa.

It was hard to miss her, considering two enourmos, shirtless guys were hoisting her on their shoulders while she laughed, a whimsical crown perched atop of her head. She had just set a record for most wins at beer pong.

Agatha had seen Tessa around campus before; she was one of the seniors students responsible for welcoming the freshmen that semester. With layered brown hair that fell to her shoulders and vibrant blue eyes, Tessa exuded a carefree spirit, always laughing. Coming from a long line of influential judges and established in the world of foreign trade, Tessa was the epitome of old money.

"Hey, freshman! I heard you're from Derby," was Tessa's opening line, as she handed Agatha the beer bottle she was sipping from, her smile laced with mischief. Agatha rolled her eyes, "Where's that?"

"It's Darby," she corrected, and Tessa nodded, licking her lips, her gazed fixed on Agatha with intent. The crooked crown on Tessa's head made Agatha chuckle. "It's in Montana."

"I've never heard of it. Maybe I'll add it to my travel itinerary if you promise it's as beautiful as you are."

Initially, Agatha wasn't interest in Tessa. In fact, for months, she had been indifferent to anyone, loyal to her feelings. However, Tessa's persistence gradually wore her down.

It was the little things that began to enchant her - Tessa's small gestures.

During the first semester, while Agatha spent countless hours studying in the library, unwilling to admit her struggles, Tessa would simply appear, sit at her table, and quietly study alongside her. Whenever Agatha frowned or lingered too long on a topic, Tessa would engage her in conversation about it. This was one of the first things that caught Agatha's attention: Tessa was impressively intelligent; she mastered every subject in their course. Almost daily, she spent her late nights in the library with Agatha, willingly revisiting topics she had covered in previous semesters, all just to be near her.

Then came the flowers, sweets and chocolates; Tessa would occasionally send them to Agatha's dorm, always accompanied by a poem or a book recommendation. As time went on, Agatha found herself eagerly anticipating Tessa's little verses, diving into the books she suggested, even waking up early to catch her at the debate club. Their time together blossomed, leading Agatha to finally accept a first date. And who could blame her? She was moving foward.

Tessa was a whirlwind, unlike anyone Agatha had ever met; she always had something unexpected in store. Agatha couldn't quite grasp how, but Tessa was an endless source of surprises, making every moment exciting.

Before classes began, Agatha ventured to Los Angeles, eager to explore the landmarks that had filled her dreams. She made it a point to visit every tourist spot, yet Tessa always had something new up her sleeve, introducing Agatha to hidden gems of the city that she never would have considered.

Like Agatha, Tessa possessed an insatiable thrist for adventure and discovery; she refused to be stagnant, always seeking the next destination. As a result, Agatha experienced moments and places she had never dreamed of.

By the end of her first year of college, as vocation approached, Agatha was nearly packed for her trip home. Though she tried not to dwell on it, the butterflies in her stomach were unavoidable. She and Tessa had been casually dating for a while, but nothing serious. Just two days before her departure, Tessa proposed they spend New Year's Eve in New York.

"What?" Agatha exclaimed, her expression a mix of disbelief and surprise, but Tessa shrugged it off, as if suggesting a simple sunset at the pier.

"Haven't you ever wanted to go to New York?"

"Are you joking?" Agatha responded, confusion etched on her face, but Tessa remained serious.

"New Year's Eve in New York is the most magical experience ever, I promise," Tessa insisted, her excitement palpable. Agatha almost laughed; she had never been to New York, but the allure was common knowledge. "You have to experience it; it's incredible!"

"Are you really serious?" Agatha pressed, and Tessa nodded fervently. Agatha couldn't help but laugh.

"You always say we're getting to know each other," Tessa shrugged. "What better way to connect than by travelling together?" Agatha opened her mouth to respond, but Tessa was quicker. "Seriously, I'm sure you'll love it. I know I will if you come with me."

From that moment on, the world felt smaller for the two of them.

Years later, they had explored nearly every corner of the country together, and even ventured abroad to parts of South America and Central America. Tessa always had a new idea up her sleeve, seeking out fresh adventures.

But when she suggested a trip to Paris, Agatha sensed that this time, Tessa had something grander in mind. And she was right.

The restaurant Tessa had chosen was perched on a rooftop with a stunning view of the Eifeel Tower, and Agatha had to concede that, despite having experienced countless places, nothing compared to the beauty of a Parisian night. The illuminated Tower, the warm yellow lights, the lush gardens, and the couples who appeared like tiny ants from that height - it was truly a cinematic scene. A romantic film, reminiscent of the ones she had adored since childhood.

Typically, she would be overwhelmed with joy, but Tessa's nervousness and anxiety were palpable. That alone confirmed her instincts; her premonition had been echoing for months. She knew. More than anything, she wanted to be filled with happiness, yet guilt was consuming her from inside. While Tessa beamed with sparkling blue eyes, all Agatha could visualize were those dark, jabuticaba-like brown eyes, bearing an entirely different expression. The joy reflected in Tessa's eyes starkly contrasted with the emptiness in Rio's gaze, and Agatha desperately wished to banish that thought, yet remorse continued to gnaw at her.

When Tessa pulled a small box from her pocket, her eyes glistening with tears and a nervous smile trembling on her lips, Agatha finally grasped the essence of bittersweet.

Guilt clashed fervently with her happiness. She felt joy; she wanted this; it was the life she had always envisioned. She loved Tessa. So, she smiled, and before that smile graced her lips, she vowed to never allow the past to overshadow her present again, to honor the gift of living this dream with someone who felt almost unreal, embodying all her deepest desires. And then, she said yes. 

She said yes to the life she had always dreamed of. She would not dwell on the past; her future was rooted in the present.

***

Present Day

Agatha couldn't pinpoint the moment her dream life began to unravel. It slipped away unnoticed, and by the time she became aware, it was already in shambles.

She should have recognized the warning signs - when Tessa's eyes lost their sparkle for her, when possessiveness crept in. She should have acted when Tessa's voice grew louder, when she made it a point to silence her. As the outbursts of anger outweighed the moments of tenderness, she should have intervened, should have spoken up. Yet, she remained silent, clinging to the belief that it was just a phase, a rough patch. Every marriage faces its trials; hers would be no different. Then came the late nights out, the endless business trips - did a prosecutor truly need to travel so much for work? The indifference became palpable. It was only when she realized her life had transformed from a fairy tale into that of an ordinary housewive, just another lady among many, that the truth hit her.

She had become Tessa's wife, no longer her partner, her travel companion, her favorite person, or her young adventurous girlfriend yearning to explore the world. She was Agatha, the wife, the mother - stable. She couldn't even recall when this transformation began, when she started valuing stability, building a home, and putting down roots. Yet, Agatha assumed this change was to be expected; after all, they were married with a child. Stability is crucial for a family. The adventurous girlfriend had morphed into a reliable wife - a constant presence. It didn't take long for her to realize that this shift was profoundly inconvenient for her wife's free spirit.

Whatever Tessa envisioned for her future and her idea of marriage, it was evident that she antecipated a life filled with freedom and spontaneity. When they exchanged vows, they both embraced their dream lives, but it took years for them to realize those dreams were not aligned.

In her office, Agatha rested her face in one hand, clutching the sole photograph on her desk: a cherished moment of her and Tessa on New Year's Eve in New York, each planting a kiss on the cheek of their son, who was just a few months old.

That day remained etched in her memory; it felt like a perfect dream. She truly believed she was living a fairy tale. The two of them, deeply in love, first-time mothers, giddy with joy over the little one who had just joined their family.

Nicholas cried incessantly, prompting Tessa to embark on a quest for baby earmuffs on the night of December 31st. She scoured the city for open children's stores, and upon finding one, she called Agatha, celebrating her victory as if she had just completed a marathon. They spent countless moments laughing, playfully teasing each other about how the clumsiest women in the world had now become mothers.

She was filled with happiness. They were enveloped in joy.

The most painful reality was that it wasn't her connection to the past that shattered everything, as Agatha had always feared. No, she genuinely moved on, remaining true to her promise. Not only did she want to continue living that dream, but she also wished for Tessa to achieve her dreams, to share those dreams together. When she said "yes" at the altar, she wholeheartedly commited, and from that moment on, she dedicated herself to living their present with love, care and partnership. With the spark that had always ignited their bond

It wasn't the past or her loyalty that unraveled her marriage; it was Tessa.

Tessa, with her yearning for freedom, her reluctance to settle down, and her craving for the unexpected, which made her resistant to routines. Tessa always sought something new, eager to embrace fresh experiences. But as the years of marriage unfolded, finding novel adventures became increasingly challenging.

As Agatha continued to gaze at the photo, the phone rang, and confusion washed over her when she saw Darby's area code flash on the answering machine. Her mother rarely called; it was usually Agatha who initiated their visits to Los Angeles.

"Mom?" she answered, her brows knitting together in perplexity, trying to mask the tremor in her voice that emerged whenever she reflected too deeply on her current situation.

"It's Lilia, my angel," came the voice on the other end, and for the first time in days, a genuine smile spread across her face, even though her tears.

"Lilia, I've missed you so much!" The warmth in her aunt's voice melted her heart. "How are things? Is mom okay? Did something happen?"

"She's fine." Agatha frowned at the brevity of the answer, noting the lack of the usual enthusiasm in her aunt's tone. "But yes, something did happen." Her voice cracked, and soon Agatha could her sobbing. Instantly, she straightened in her chair, a wave of concern washing over her, a gnawing intuition that something was amiss. Lilia rarely cried over trivial matters. "Have you spoken to Benito? Have you seen him today?"

"He was supposed to come here this weekend with Kate, but I haven't heard from him today," she admitted, her curiosity piqued. "I noticed he called me several times, but I was at a parent-teacher meeting, and then I..." Agatha hesitated, unsure of how to continue. What could she say? That she spent hours crying about her life? "I was planning to call him back later. But what happened?"

"Agatha, your godfather has passed away."

Agatha was rendered speechless. It felt as if her energy, words and thoughts had been siphoned away, leaving on an overwhelming emptiness in her chest. A void that had formed after her father's death, one she tried to fill by moving foward, but now, that emptiness had expanded, igniting an internal ache, as if an old wound had reopened.

"Agatha?" Lilia's voice broke through, checking if she was still there.

"I'm here," she managed to whisper.

"I called Benny; he was trying to reach you because he wanted you to come for the funeral, to come here to Darby. I know it's been a long time, and you prefer not to discuss it, but he'll need your support. Your mom will too, all of us, honey."

The last time Agatha had set foot in Darby was thirteen years ago. After her wedding, she never returned. Her mother and Lilia frequently visited her in Los Angeles, and Benito lived just a few blocks away. Javier visited occasionally; there was never a need for her to go back.

"Go to Darby?" was all Agatha could muster, her voice laced with hesitation.

"He was your godfather, Agatha, practially your second father."

That was indeniably true. Javier had always treated her like a daughter, always seen her as such. Whenever she returned home during college breaks, she was greeted with celebrations. After her father's passing, Javier stepped into that role; when Benito attended college in Los Angeles, he lived with her for a significant time, and Javier was always involved. He once traveled all the way to Los Angeles just to be present for Nichola's first birthday. He consistently sent gifts on her wedding anniversay, presents that Tessa cherished, along with letters she kept hidden, where he expressed his happiness for her but admitted he had always envisioned himself as her father-in-law. He wrote that every year. More than just a godfather, he truly was her second father.

"Lilia, I-" She faltered, exhaling deeply, still grappling with the heartbreaking news. "I need a moment to breath. Can I call you back later?"

"Of course, my dear. I understand this is a heavy loss for you as well."

Yet, once she hung up, her thoughts immediately turned to Rio. No one must be feeling this loss as profoundly as she was; no one loved him more. Javier had always been her hero, her safe haven. She had been deeply connected to her father; their bond was something extraordinary. Her hands trembled as she shook her head, desperate to push those thoughts aside. She didn't need to dive into that right now; she needed to breathe.

She couldn't think about Rio, not now, not anymore. She had relinquished that right thirteen years ago.

It was time to focus on herself, take a deep breath, confront her own feelings and grief, and determine her next steps.

As she sat in her office armchair, lost in a haze of tears and incoherent thoughts, she reached out to Tessa at least twenty times, but each call went unanswered and went straight to voicemail. Uncertainty loomed over her; she had no idea if Tessa would return home that day, as there were times when she would stay out overnight without a word.

Above all, she longed for Tessa to pick up, to show that she cared.

With heavy footsteps, stifling her sobs, she approached Nicholas's room, carefully opening the door to keep the noise to a minimum. Her son lay asleep, cradling the stuffed horse gifted to him by Benito. In that quiet moment, seeing him so serene, she found a glimmer of solace; seeing him at peace allowed her to breathe again.

She grabbed her cell phone once more and dialed again, but once again, Tessa did not answer.

In that moment, she resolved to take action.

Chapter Text

“That’s a real fucking legacy, to leave” – Maroon, Taylor Swift.

People often discuss the significance of perseverance and the nobility of commitment, yet few acknowledge the immense courage it takes to choose to let go. To release, to pause, to take a step back when everything you desire seems just out of reach. For Agatha, surrendering was the toughest act of all.

Explaining the genesis of an idea or the precise moment it flourishes in our minds is challenging. Understanding why we sometimes fixate on something born from our imagination is even more complex. Each individual harbors a unique version of happiness, success, and love - concepts that evolve with us, shifting yet remaining abstract and distant from reality. Even when we possess a great deal, we invariably yearn for what lies just beyond our grasp; we constantly seek that which eludes us. This is the paradox of dreams: they are enchanting precisely because they exist outside the realm of reality.

Plato articulated this notion, using love as a metaphor for dreams: love embodies the journey of the lover toward the beloved - not the act of possession, but the pursuit itself. We seldom desire what we already own; there's no need for it. If we crave something, it's because it eludes us. Once we attain it, the desire dissipates.

When you aspire for something, it indicates a longing, which means you don't dream of what you already hold. The impulse of need fuels determination; it propels us forward. This is why ambition feels insatiable: there's always a craving for something more - something greater, something you don't yet possesss. While we often link ambition to grand achievements, it also permeates the smaller aspects of daily life, manifesting as a continual quest for improvement of acquisition. There's always that desire for more.

An ideal is perpetually an abstraction, ever-changing, forever just out of reach for various reasons we strive to fulfill, yet achieving it remains elusive. If we were to attain an ideal, it would cease to be an ideal and instead become our reality.

Agatha was a dreamer from the start.

Growing up on a farm ignited her desire to explore the city. Upon witnessing the city, her aspirations expanded to encompass grander visions, until she learned of Los Angeles - the city of angels, where dreams come to life. Everything unfolded in Los Angeles, the haven of dreams, films, and success. Her dreams were roughly two thousand kilometers away. When she finally set foot in California, clutching her university acceptance letter, she basked in euphoria, spending days exploring rather than confining herself to her dorm. With countless sights to see, books to read, and people to meet, the initial thrill eventually settled into a routine, leaving her with a lingering sense of "now what?"

Unbeknownst to her, her dream had morphed into another, and her desires seemed perpetually ahead, compelling her to keep striving, to succeed, to fulfill her potential. Throughout her life, she fought relentlessly for her dreams, but each victory led to another challenge; the battles were never-ending. She never viewed her choices through the lens of loss; she believed she was gaining, not losing.

She had always focused on her aspirations, never realizing that progress also entailed leaving things behind. Achieving one thing often meant losing another; they were not opposing forces but rather intertwined companions.

Her heart no longer craved more; instead, it ached for what she had forsaken. It was ironic, really, because her losses were mere concepts; what she lost never truly had the chance to exist. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what she had lost - how could she? If even a single detail had shifted, everything would have changed. But now, she found herself devoid of dreams. All that remained was despair, a void filled not with failures but with a poignant sense of nostalgia. The desire to move forward had vanished.

Thirteen years ago, she made a promise to herself: the future would become her present. Now, she recognized that this had been her folly. The future is an ideal, not a reality. In her pursuit of that ideal, she sacrificed the one thing she possessed - the present - without realizing that tomorrow would always become today.

For the first time in over a decade, she resolved to stop pushing ahead. She surrendered. 

Stepping out of the autopilot mode that had always propelled her forward, she felt utterly disoriented. Agatha understoo that she wasn't adept at gauging the consequences of ther choices, and as they landed at Missoula airpoirt, a knot of fear tightened in her stomach.

Darby lacked and airport; reaching the town required flying to Missoula and then embarking on an hour-and-a-half drive. Gripping the steering wheel of the rental car, she began to question whether this had truly been a wise decision. It didn't take much contemplation to conclude that no, it was a dreadful idea, yet it was the only course of action left. If she wasn't going to continue moving forward, there was only one direction she could take: home.

With her gaze fixed on the road, she nervously bit her lip, desperately trying to convince herself that she hadn't fled. It wasn't an escape; it was a visit - she had always enjoyed travelling. Not to Darby, she chided herself, letting out a huff. Her godfather had passed away, her family needed her, and she, too, needed to navigate through that grief; this was a family trip.

So what if it had been thirteen years since she had last visited Darby?

"Family trip," she repeated in her mind.

Yet, the red siren blared in ther thoughts, that unsettling know in her stomach continued to tighten, and her palms grew clammy. "Family trip." She forced herself to recite it, inhaling deeply, attempting to convince herself that if she said it enough, she would start to believe it. It wouldn't be long before Tessa realized she was missing. Tessa never spent more than a couple of days away from home and might not even care, but Agatha was acutely aware that it wouldn't take long for Tessa to notice that more than half of her wardrobe was gone. "Family trip." It wasn't entirely a lie, but she would soon need to stick to a decision.

Through the rearview mirror, she stole a glance at her son, swallowing hard when their eyes locked. He remained silent, not questioning her when she began packing, not protesting at any point. While she packed frantically, tears streaming down her face, he simply watched, his brow furrowed in concern.

She could sense the questions in his eyes, along with a glimmer of understanding, and felt the urge for him to speak. For a fleeting moment, she believed he might, but he remained silent.

Nicholas has large brown eyes with a gaze that seemed to penetrate her very soul, as though her could see every detail, every expression, every thought. He didn't need words to convey his understanding of the situation or the reason behind her tears. Silently, he held her gaze and began helping her gather clothes from the closet, sorting through his own toys and colored pencils, filling a backpack with his favorite belongings. Agatha said nothing, and he posed no questions, yet he understood. He recognized that this was more than just a family trip. Even in his quietness, she felt his unwavering support.

His eyes, locked onto hers in the rearview mirror, radiated genuine curiosity and empathy, tinged with a hint of affection. Though he remained silent, his insight was profound.

Nicholas's large brown eyes resembled solid marbles, and she would be dishonest if she didn't admit they reminded of hers. His eyes were a rich, dark brown, akin to a tree trunk, that earthy, almost black hue. When Javier first met him as a baby, he remarked that he had little jabuticaba eyes. Tessa found the compliment endearing, but Agatha couldn't help but think that he indeed shared the same jabuticaba eyes as Rio.

She stopped attempting to suppress her thoughts of Rio; it was unavoidable now that she was returning home. It was impossible to think of Darby without thinking of Rio; they were intertwined in a way that had compelled her to maintain distance for so many years. She had to let go of Darby to escape Rio.

Amidst the emotional turmoil engulfing her, she pondered how Rio was faring now. Likely a wreck after her father's passing, devastated. But beyond that, Agatha found herself curious about Rio's life - what she had been up to and how she had moved on. Throughout her own journey of moving forward, she had never thought to inquire if Rio had done the same, or what path she had choosen. Despite spending considerable time with Javier and Benito, she lacked courage to ask; it didn't feel like her place.

It had been thirteen years since she had set foot in Darby. Thirteen years since their last conversation. In those thirteen years, they had only found themselves in the same place once - when Agatha's father passed away, prompting her to travel back to Darby with Tessa, which hardly counted. They exchanged barely two words. The last time they truly spoke was thirteen years agor, and it was hardly a pleasant experience, it left her with no fond memories.

Now, she found herself wondering how Rio would react upon seeing her there, in her home, after everything.

***

Thirteen years ago

Las Vegas was undeniably an exhilarating experience, and both Agatha and Tessa relished every moment of their first honeymoon day, indulging in drinks at the city's most renowed casinos. Their rule was simple: just one poker game at each venue. By the end of the day, they had already explored more than seven casinos, each time spending a different tale about how they met and fell in love.

In their hotel room, intoxicated and carefree, they shared their first night as a married couple on the sofa, their movements slow and clumsy, punctuated by laughter from the evening's revelry. It was a beautiful moment, their bodies entwined without haste, exchanging deep, languorous kisses accompanied by soft sighs.

Agatha felt a wave of satisfaction wash over her, her earlier drunkenness fading into a gentle drowsiness. It wasn't long before they both tumbled into bed and fell into a deep slumber, holding each other close.

When Agatha was roused by the incessant ringing of her phone, she groaned in protest and buried her head under the pillow, but the ringing persisted. With another grunt, she nudged Tessa gently. Tessa stirred, confused, and let out her own protest, pulling Agatha back into a warm embrace.

"Tessa..." Agatha almost groaned, referring to the incessant phone ringing. "My head is pounding; please make it stop."

With a sigh of annoyance, Tessa reached for the phone on the nightstand but found it turned it off. "It's not mine," she said, sinking back into the pillow.

Still with her head burried under the pillow, Agatha groped for her own phone on her side of the bed and soon grasped the vibrating, ringing device. The tequila had left her head throbbing, so she didn't bother checking the caller ID befor answering.

"Hello?" she mumbled groggily into the phone.

"Why did you answer?" Tessa grumbled, rolling over in bed. "You should've just hung up."

"Hello, my love. How's you honeymoon?" That all-too-familiar voice drained that sleep from Agatha's body in an instant, making her sit up straight in bed, eyes wide, heart racing with anxiety. "Did I call at a bad time, or are we still in the same time zone?"

"Who is it?" Tessa asked, still half-asleep, and Agatha waved her hand dismissively, indicating it was nothing serious. "Then hung up."

"I'll hang up shortly, love, just a minute." She kissed Tessa's forehead before slipping out of the room.

"I hate it when you call her 'love'," Rio grumbled on the other end of the line.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Agatha hissed in a quiet yet urgent tone, glancing over her shoulder to ensure Tessa was still in the room and not overhearing the conversation. "Why are you calling me in the middle of the night? During my honeymoon!"

"Ouch!" Rio replied, feigning offense, which only heightened Agatha's anxiety as her palms began to sweat. Tessa remained blissfully unaware of this unexpected call. "I thought you'd show me a bit more affection after our encounter two nights ago, or have you already forgotten?"

"No, I haven't forgotten what happened two nights ago: my wedding." She kept her voice steady, ensuring it conveyed her determination.

"I'm not referring to that part." Agatha silenty cursed herself for the way her cheeks betrayed her, flushing at her suggestive tone, but she resolved not to engage further and simply huffed.

"Rio," Agatha whispered, pacing the suite's living room, her gazed locked on the bedroom door, Tessa couldn't even dream about that conversation. "Don't call me again. Ever."

"Agatha, please don't hang up! This is serious!" Rio nearly shouted from the other end, prompting a heavy sigh from her. "I was arrested. I'm at the police station, and I only get one call - this one."

"You what?!" she nearly shrieked, quickly covering her mouth in hopes of not waking Tessa, but it was too late. Seconds later, Tessa appeared, groggy and clad in a bathrobe, leaning against the bedroom doorframe, her sleepy eyes filled with curiosity.

"They caught me in the car, and you know they have this breathalyzer thing now..." Her casual tone only heightened Agatha's anxiety, especially under Tessa's inquisitive gaze.

"How much did you drink?" she asked, trying to maintain her composure.

"Enough for them to arrest me."

"Was there an accident? Are you okay?" she asked with and exasperated sign, glancing back at Tessa, who was now fully alert and gesturing for more information. Agatha signaled she'd explain shortly.

"No, no accident, I was just driving... fast." She confessed with a mischievous tone, prompting another huff from Agatha. "The police stopped me, made me take the test, and brought me here."

"Here? Where is here?" she asked, her impatience growing as her palms began to sweat.

"San Diego."

"What were you doing in San Diego, for god's sake?" Agatha couldn't hide the shift in her tone.

"Who is it?" Tessa asked, and Agatha paused, staring blankly at her for a moment.

"My godfather. He got caught drunk driving," she blurted out without thinking, leading Tessa to roll her eyes as she turned back toward the bedroom.

"Did you really tell your wife you're talking to my dad, or did I mishear?" Rio chuckled, and Agatha could only huff, her hands clammy.

"Yes, Uncle Javi," she replied through gritted teeth, as Rio's laughter echoed on the line. "Seems like you need a lawyer."

"You are my lawyer," she stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"No, I'm not, and even if I were, I'm currently in Las Vegas," Agatha hissed, lowering her voice now that Tessa was out of earshot.

"Agatha, I only had the right to this one call, and yours is the only number I know by heart. I can't call another lawyer."

"I can call your dad; I'm sure he knows someone."

"Agatha, no! You can't tell my dad I got arrested! Absolutely not!"

"The only person who might agree to help you - to help me - is Alex, but she left for New York yesterday. She's not going to San Diego just to bail you out."

"Agatha, please."

"What do expect me to do? Fly to San Diego in the middle of my honeymoon to pay your bail and get you out of jail?" Agatha said, letting out a humorless laugh as she rolled her eyes at the absurdity of it all. It was pathetic. She and Rio were two foolish idiots.

"Yeah, that's why I called you. It's less than two hours away; there's no need to be dramatic."

"You must be joking."

"I'm sorry, okay? But my dad can't find out. He has no idea I'm in California, and I'd be on my way home if these idiots hadn't arrested me. You can't tell him, or your mom, or Lilia - seriously. I'm begging you, Agatha. I know this is a fucked-up situation, but I didn't do it on purpose. I truly need your help here, come on."

This felt like a nightmare, a cruel joke; there was no other explanation for why life was treating her this way.

While Rio expressed her frustration on the other end of line, Agatha squeezed her eyes shut, trying to filter her thoughts and feeling and immense weight on her chest. She glanced at her left hand, the white gold wedding band adorned with tiny diamonds, and closed her eyes once more. This would be the last time, she promised herself.

***

Among all the scenarios she envisioned for her honeymoon, a heated argument with Tessa was certainly not one of them. Yet, here they were.

Despite her protests, Agatha understood she couldn't disregard Tessa's perspective. She couldn't help but wonder how she would react if their roles were reversed - if Tessa had booked a flight and, barely a day into their honeymoon, announced that she had a famiy emergency in the middle of the night. As Tessa paced the room, frustration radiating from her, Agatha found it impossible to meet her gaze.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Tessa exclaimed, her laughter devoid of humor, arms crossed tightly as she moved back and forth, shaking her head in disbelief. "Agatha, it's our honeymoon!"

Agatha lifted her head but quickly averted her eyes from Tessa's wide, furrowed brows that spoke volumes of her frustration. Tessa had every reason to be angry, and Agatha felt a wave of self-reproach. She always hated lying to Tessa, but this time it felt particularly agonizing. The confusion on Tessa's face and the hurt reflected in her blue eyes made Agatha feel like the worst person on earth.

But that's precisely why she had to do it; Tessa deserved more than half-hearted love - she deserved all of her. She had vowed never to repeat this mistake; she genuinely wanted thir relationship to flourish. She chose Tessa and intended to commit fully, just as Tessa had done years ago.

Tessa deserved all of her, so she had to finally burry her past once and for all.

Just one more lie to bring closure to all the others.

"What can I do?" Agatha replied firmly, still unable to meet her eyes. "It's my godfather, Tessa! He doesn't know a soul in California; he's far from home! Do you want him to spend the night in jail?"

Tessa let out a laugh that was pure disbelief, lacking any trace of humor.

"Are you the only lawyer in the world? He's rich, Agatha! He knows plenty of lawyers! It's our honeymoon!" she nearly shouted, her tone highlighting the absurdity of the situation, prompting Agatha to lower her head. "I'm not saying to leave him in jail; I'm asking why you can't call someone else for help."

"He's family, Tessa; he trusts me." Tessa narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced. "I don't know anyone in San Diego that could help right now; who would I call in the middle of the night? Do you think anyone from my family, out in the middle of Montana, knows a lawyer in San Diego? The only person who could help is Alex, and she's in New York right now."

"What was this hick doing driving drunk in San Diego instead of mucking out a barn in Montana?" Tessa grumbled, her voice rising in frustration.

Agatha felt the urge to reprimand her immediately; she hated it when Tessa spoke about her family like that, but this wasn't the moment.

"I don't know, I didn't ask, but he doesn't travel much. He probably thought he'd extend his stay after our wedding to explore California. He's such a country bumpkin; he must have gotten excited about the big city." She murmured that last part with a hint of sarcasm, and Tessa's brows furrowed in annoyance, exhaling heavily.

They locked eyes for what felt like an eternity until Tessa exhaled heavily, a mix of a huff and a sigh.

"Why do I feel like you're always looking for an excuse to run away from me?" she said, her voice laced with hurt, her brows still knitted.

That stung more than a slap, and Agatha felt utterly ashamed.

"I love you," Agatha said, but Tessa looked down. "I didn't want to go, but I need to." Now, she was speaking the truth, albeit twisted. She stepped closer to Tessa, reaching out to caress her face, sighing in relief when she welcomed her touch. Looking deeply into those blue eyes, she vowed never to see that hurt again. "It's only a few hours, I promise." Tessa's brows knitted together; she seemed to seek reassurance, and Agatha mirroed her expression, wanting to convey the sincerity of her words. "Less than four hours, I promise, darling. If you go back to sleep, when you wake up, I'll already be here. I never want to run away from you; I love running away with you."

"You better be here when I wake up," Tessa murmured softly, and Agatha offered a hint of a smile.

"I will, honey. Every day." She wiggled her left hand, showcasing her ring, and Tessa rolled her eyes before leaning to kiss her.

***

No one enjoys working late into the night, especially not police officers on duty. Thankfully, the bureaucracy didn't give her any trouble; she simply took an hour-long flight to post bail and sign a few documents. Agatha leaned against a patrol car, watching as Rio emerged from the police station, a wide grin breaking across her face as she spread her arms in a mock triumphant entrance.

"Free as a bird," Rio teased, shaking her now uncuffed wrists. "You're the best lawyer in the world."

It was clear that Rio was still drunk; the smell of alchohol was unmistakable even from a distance. Agatha shook her head disapprovingly, but Rio merely smiled and shrugged.

Agatha couldn't help but wonder if she was partly to blame for Rio's reckless state. Deep down, she knew she was, just as Rio's choices reflected on her own life. Two days ago, she had tried to put an end to this cycle, but now, in the early hours of the morning, in her honeymoon, she need to be sure - it has to end. They both need closure.

"Did you do this on purpose?" Agatha asked, a frown creasing her brow. Rio's face flickered with confusion.

"Do what?" Rio replied with a laugh.

"This," Agatha said, gesturing toward the police station.

"What? Do you think I intentionally ruined your honeymoon?" Rio laughed, but Agatha remained silent, her gaze steady, watching the moment the mockery drained from Rio's expression. It pained her to see how transparent Rio was, how easy she could read her hurt. "Do you really think I would spend a night in jail just to pull you away from your madam? You're already married her; what would I gain from that? You think I want to see that ring on your finger?" Rio let out a sarcastic breath, quickly attempting to mask her feelings. "Besides, I expected more from her; she has so much money and put that on your finger?"

Agatha instinctively curled her fingers aroung the ring, feeling its weight as her heart began to sink.

The intensity of Rio's brown eyes shouldn't have hurt this much, yet it did, as if they were crushing her heart in their grasp.

"If you didn't do it on purpose, why are you still in California?" Agatha asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Rio shrugged, averting her gaze.

"Honestly? I don't know." Now Rio's tone was serious, her eyes locked onto Agatha's, causing a lump to form in Agatha's throat. "I was just driving around; I guess part of me wanted to understand why these big cities mean so much to you." Rio shrugged again, and this time it was Agatha who couldn't maintain the eye contact. "I didn't do it on purpose, Agatha. I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't have the courage."

"But you did."

"Agatha-"

"We can't keep doing this, Rio," she said softly, and Rio frowned. The vulnerability in her eyes struck Agatha like a dagger. But it was necessary; they couldn't continue this way. "I married her."

"You love me." Rio began, as if that explained everything. "I lo-" But Agatha cut her off, shaking her head, pleading for her to stop. She didn't want to hear it.

"You love your home, Darby, your horses, your family, your farm... You would never give that up. You never wanted to come with me, Rio."

"That doesn't change how I feel," Rio replied, her voice thick with emotion, tears brimming in her eyes.

"You mad your choice, and I made mine." Rio frowned, shaking her head, her eyes pleading with Agatha not to say it. "If you truly love me, you need to let me live my life, and you should live yours too."

Rio remained silent; the tears glistening in her eyes spoke volumes. They held each other's gaze for what felt like an eternity, the silence heavy as tears cascaded down Rio's cheeks. Agatha bit her lip, forcing herself not to cry; she couldn't do that in front of her.

"Take care, Rio," she whispered, but as she turned to leave, Rio grasped her wrist with a trembling hand.

"If you walk away now, I'm not coming back, Agatha." Despite the tears, her tone was firm and unwavering. "If you walk away, it's over for real." 

In that moment, Agatha understood that this was truly the end.

"I know, that's why I have to go."

***

Present Day

Just as Agatha honored her promise, Rio did the same; she truly never returned. Now, as Agatha made her way home, she pondered how Rio would react upon realizing it was she who was coming back.

Agatha had no idea what Rio had become, what she was doing, or how she had lived her life. Since that fateful night thirteen years ago, they had only crossed paths once, at Agatha's father's wake. Their interaction was brief and overshadowed by Tessa's presence. Aside from that solitary encounter, they had not seen or spoke to one another again, and their familied had ceased to meddle longe before, avoiding any mention of one another.

It was a bitter irony, after their final separation, only loss could bring them together again. It felt like a grotesque metaphor: they had shattered each other, and now they found themselves amidst the ruins.

Agatha's musings were abruptly interrupted by her phone ringing. She glanced at the screen, seeing Tessa's name flash before her.

She chose to let it go to voicemail.