Page 8 of Veil of the Past
“Oh, Jade. You didn’t have to do that, but thank you,” Val says as Jade puts the plates in front of us.
“No problem at all. Now enjoy your food. It’s getting even busier by the second,” Jade jokes before heading to another table to take their order.
Valentina reaches for a piece of croissant, tearing into it delicately, as if savoring every bite. “You know,” she says, her voice softer now, “sometimes I think about what it would be like if we weren’t part of all this. If we were just … normal. Going to college, finding jobs, falling in love without worrying about who’s watching or what it might mean for our families.”
I nod slowly, letting her words sink in. It’s a thought I’ve had countless times, especially during those late-night shifts at the hospital. Everydayhen I see other people just living their lives, free from all this … weight, even as sickness plagues their lives. “It’d be different, that’s for sure,” I say. “But would it be better?”
Mara leans back, looking thoughtful. “Maybe,” she says, “but I like to think we’re stronger for it. We know what loyalty means. What it means to fight for what you love, forwhoyou love. We’re bound by it.”
Valentina smiles—it’s a gentle curve of her lips that reaches her eyes. “That’s true,” she agrees. “And I guess that’s what matters, in the end. Not the world we’re born into, but the love we choose to carry with us.”
I raise my coffee cup, and the three of us toast silently to that, to the love that binds us and the strength we find in each other.
3
ALESSIA
Ihug Mara first, feeling her arms wrap around me in a quick, tight squeeze. "Stay safe," I whisper into her ear, and she nods against my shoulder.
"You too," she murmurs back, and I sense the hint of concern in her voice that she can never quite hide. Mara always worries, especially when it comes to family after the death of Uncle Alberto. We pull away, and I turn to Valentina, who’s waiting with a small smile, her hand resting instinctively on the engagement ring that still seems so new on her finger.
“Tell Emiliano to be nice to you,” I say, teasing her just a little. “He may be my cousin, but I’m on your side.”
Valentina laughs. “Oh, I’ll make sure of it,” she replies, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you next week?”
“Of course,” I say, smiling. Our Saturday brunches are a ritual, a small piece of normalcy in a life that rarely allows for it.
“Are you sure you don’t want Eli to drop you off?” Val asks.
I shake my head. “I’m sure. I’d like to walk for a bit.”
Emiliano’s car is parked a few feet away, engine idling, and he’s watching us with that protective, slightly impatient look he always has. He gives me a quick nod from the driver’s seat. His expression softens when Valentina and Mara finally climb into the back. They exchange a few words with him, Mara’s laughter echoing out of the rolled down windows before he pulls away from the curb, disappearing into the late afternoon traffic.
I take a deep breath, savoring the moment of peace. The streets are quieter now, a rare lull in the city's constant motion. I reach into my pocket for my phone, intending to check the time, but just as I do, it starts vibrating in my hand. Romiro’s name flashes on the screen.
My heart does a little flip. I press the green button and bring the phone to my ear. "Hey," I say, trying to sound casual, even though my pulse ticks up a notch.
“Hey, Alessia,” Romiro's voice comes through, warm and familiar, like always. There’s a smile on his face; I hear it in the tone of his cheery voice. “Are you heading home now?”
“Yeah,” I reply, turning my steps toward the subway entrance. “Just said goodbye to the girls. Why? Miss me already?”
He laughs softly, a sound that makes my stomach flutter. “Always. But that’s not why I’m calling. I wanted to ask—do you have someone to pick you up after your rounds tomorrow night?”
I hesitate for a moment. “I was just going to take a cab, maybe,” I say, though I know I won’t. I hate taking cabs that late, and Romiro knows it, too.
“Well,” he continues, and I can picture him leaning against something, maybe his kitchen counter, that half-smile playing on his lips. “I could swing by the hospital and pick you up if you want. I don’t have much to do around that time.”
I bite my lip, trying to keep the grin out of my voice. “You don’t have to do that,” I reply, even though the idea of seeing him at 2:30 in the morning is more appealing than I want to admit. Although, I may look like shit after a somewhat long shift. “I know you’ve got your own stuff going on.”
“I don’t mind,” he says, and there’s something softer in his voice now. “I’d actually like it. Just… Just say yes, okay?”
My heart skips again, and I let out a long breath, trying to ease the rising tension in my chest. “Okay,” I say, feeling warmth spread through my chest. “I’ll see you at 2:30, then. I work at the?—”
“I know where you work; I’ll be there on time,” he replies. “Get some rest before your shift, okay? I’ll see you soon.”
I hang up, a small, ridiculous grin tugging at my lips. I’ve known Romiro for years—since we were kids, growing up in the same tangled mess of family alliances and expectations. He’s been my friend, my confidant, and my rock through all of it. But lately …
Well, lately, it feels like there’s something more lurking just beneath the surface, something neither of us is brave enough to name, let alone act upon.
