Chapter 18 - The Anniversary
The anniversary of the accident arrived in October.
Roberto hated the date.
He always had.
The crash had happened on a rain-slick highway outside Boston.
Elena died before the ambulance arrived.
Sofía survived with injuries that permanently damaged her optic nerves.
Roberto walked away with broken ribs and a guilt that never fully healed.
Every year, he visited Elena’s grave alone.
This year, Sofía asked to come.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
María drove with them.
The cemetery was quiet.
Autumn leaves covered the path.
Roberto guided Sofía toward the grave.
She knelt and touched the engraved letters.
ELENA MARISOL VALE.
BELOVED WIFE AND MOTHER.
Sofía traced the words slowly.
“Do you still love her?”
Roberto answered without hesitation.
“Yes.”
“Did Vanessa hate that?”
“I think part of her did.”
Sofía thought for a moment.
“Would Mom have liked María?”
María turned away quickly.
Roberto smiled.
“She would have loved her.”
Sofía touched the stone again.
“I don’t remember Mom’s face.”
Roberto’s eyes filled.
“You remember other things.”
“Her perfume.”
“She smelled like oranges.”
“And vanilla.”
“And she sang badly.”
Roberto laughed through his tears.
“She sang terribly.”
Sofía smiled.
Then her face became serious.
“Do you blame yourself for the crash?”
Roberto froze.
He had never said those words to her.
“How did you know?”
“You get quiet when people talk about it.”
Children noticed everything.
Even children adults assumed could not see.
“Yes.”
Roberto sat on the grass beside her.
“I blamed myself for a long time.”
“Was it your fault?”
“No.”
The answer surprised him.
For years, he would have added explanations.
The weather.
The other driver.
The timing.
The impossible choices.
This time, he simply said no.
Sofía leaned against him.
“Then maybe stop.”
Roberto laughed softly.
“That sounds easy when you say it.”
“It is easy to say.”
She smiled.
“Hard to do.”
Roberto kissed her forehead.
For the first time in years, the anniversary did not feel like a punishment.
It felt like remembrance.
They stayed until the air turned cold.
As they walked back toward the car, Sofía held Roberto’s hand.
Not because she could not walk alone.
Because she wanted to.
May you like
There was a difference.
And Roberto was finally learning to recognize it.
