In the corner of a small little bakery, filled to the brim with delectable scents that could be considered overwhelming for some. For Miguel, it was the perfect distraction on this day. He sipped his piping hot coffee with a soft, satisfied sigh as the drink rolled down his throat, burning, but so sweet with the few sugar and crème packets he had insisted on having. He nestled back against the cushioned chair, pausing as he saw his reflection in the laptop’s screen. Laptops were fairly new. But they were so much easier than the excuse of computers they had been using only moments before.

The hustle bustle of the city avoided this quaint spot, a perfected blend of pastel colors painted along the walls; pastel blue on the entire thing with gorgeous images of trees in all of their seasons from the blooming blossoms of spring, to the verdant leaves of summer, to the reds and oranges of fall, and final the barren state of winter, bare but snow topped in a slightly glittering style.

Hmm . . . Maybe his next collection should be season based. Miguel smiled slightly at that, reaching down and pushing the button of his laptop, watching as the screen faded into life. He typed in his password with one hand has he grabbed his delicious chocolate croissant, still warm to the touch. He bit into the warm, almost crunchy pastry’s golden-brown skin, feeling it crumble in his mouth as he felt the wheat’s taste exploded in his mouth, and then finally the ooey gooey chocolate that came right after it, creating the perfect blend of flavors. His eyes closed as he let out a soft little sound of satisfaction, and swallowed as slowly as he could before placing the treat back down on the glass china plate, pristine and clean as can be. He needed to make it last.

He went back to his laptop, checking his emails. He probably should have done that sooner, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

After all, today was the . . . The fortieth anniversary of the day she left.

. . .

Miguel should have called to check in on Alejandra, but he knew that Cassiel could probably help her out through whatever unresolved emotions she had.

He should have gotten an ice cold drink instead of the piping hot coffee he loved so much. But he hated cold drinks. Mamá hadn’t. He inhaled sharply, and stared at the emails. Maybe he should take a break. Suddenly, the cozy, comfortable atmosphere of the cafe wasn’t nearly enough to distract him from the conflicted emotions.

His mother had ran away in 1966. His mother had angered their uncle. Or uncle-in-law. Whatever. His mother had died by the hands of Leira in 1968 after being caught.

Maybe he really should call Alejandra.

Miguel swallowed hard and forced himself to reach out for the phone, unlocking it and dialing his younger sister’s number. He shouldn’t have assumed that she would be fine just because he was. They both loved their mother. But Alejandra never bothered to try and get over her disappearance/death. Miguel had done all he could to move on, but . . .

Sometimes he wished his mother had just told them what was going on instead of keeping them in the dark, alone to assume everything was fine. He hated that she assumed they weren’t strong enough to know the truth. He hated that, he hated that, he hated that—

No, Miguel, he stopped himself, sitting up straighter, you shouldn’t think of her in a bad light.

He had to remind himself that sometimes.

He tried to focus on the gorgeous murals along the walls, but that only reminded him of the beautiful trees that surrounded his mother’s farm when they were growing up. Now it was Alejandra’s. He tried to focus on the delicious coffee, but that only reminded him of his mother’s hatred for the drink. He tried to focus on on his work, but that only reminded him of his mother’s no-nonsense, hardworking attitude.

Maybe he hadn’t moved on as much as he liked to think.

Alejandra finally picked up. “Hey?”

“Hey,” Miguel replied softly, leaning against the table’s edge and watching as his laptop’s screen darkened from lack of use. “You doing okay?”

There was a pause. Then his sister sounded befuddled. “Why wouldn’t I be? Is something going on, Mig?”

All of the air was sucked out of his lungs. His sister had forgotten. How? How could she forget? Sure, she had a life and all but . . . How could she forget today was the day? Coldness settled over his shoulders. She didn’t know and she was happy.

“I’m just trying to help Camilla set up the baby’s new room—did you hear? She says it’s going to be a boy!—and she was thinking maybe a Toy Story theme? Gosh, that girl is obsessed with the movie—“

Miguel barely heard the rest of his sister’s rambling about her daughter. He was just staring at his laptop, hands shaking as he tried to keep himself under control. She forgot.

He should remind her, shouldn’t he?

She needed to remember. She needed to remember this was the exact day their lives fell apart. Not when their parents got divorced when they were six and five, not when they watched their younger cousin expose their uncle at a dinner party, not when she was sent to a boarding school, and not when Miguel was under constant judgment for his tastes at school. Today was the worst day of their lives and she deserved to remember.

“Oh, I was hoping she could do the name Alejandro, but her husband absolutely _hates _me. I still can’t understand why!” Alejandra laughed. The laugh made him stop.

But . . . She sounded so happy. Could he really tear away that happiness from her? It wasn’t like she had forgotten their mother. Just what today was. As long as she hadn’t forgotten Jacinta.

So he nodded along with her chatter, mumbling words of assent to keep her talking before she finally asked.

“But seriously, why did you call, Mig? I’m fine.”

He was silent for a moment before sighing. “Nah, just wanted to check up on you. Y’know, the brotherly thing to do. And . . . Could we meet up at a cafe later?”