Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The bridge is extremely high, its extension covered up with fog. She cannot see her surroundings and her breath catches in her throat. A river runs furiously somewhere beneath her, waves collapsing against rocks and the wooden blocks crack under her feet. She is scared. There is nothing to hold onto, so she tries and focuses every cell of her body in walking forwards.

Another step, another cracking sound.

There is someone’s shape somewhere in the middle of the fog, but she cannot make out any features. This is it, she thinks. That is safety. I will walk to that person and everything will be alright, the bridge will disappear.

But someone pulls at the hem of her shirt from behind, so she stops and turns around to find a little girl staring up at her. Brunette curls mold her little face, falling down her small body and turning to blonde at the bottom. There is something familiar about this child, and she feels like she should remember, like this is an important piece of information.

“Can you say my name?” The little girl asks, blue eyes blinking up at her. “Please, say my name.” She falls in desperation as the little girl cries, feeling her own eyes filled with tears. “Please, remember me.”

But she cannot. She should know who this child is, but can’t bring herself to remember. “I can’t,” she whispers back. “I’m sorry,” and she is crying, too.

She takes a step towards the little brunette, needing to know if her memories somehow can be enlightened by touching her. But the little girl turns around, and slips. Both of them scream—the little girl as she falls into the infinite, and she, as she tries to grab her by the hands, but isn’t fast enough.

Beca wakes up in a jump, sweat all over her body. Around her, the room is extremely dark and a shiver runs down her spine as she turns a little to light up the  lampshade that was handmade by Jesse so many years ago, but still feels like just yesterday.

The lampshade should have been on since the night before, but Beca fell asleep before doing so.

Tiny dots shine against the wall in a bright shade of green. They change positions as the lampshade’s base spins and not for the first time, Beca counts them. Her little ritual after waking up from a nightmare. And no matter how many times she counts them, the number is always the same. Always twenty-nine.

The clock on her nightstand tells her it is past four and a half in the morning, so Beca gets up, hands still shaking a little, as she tries to ignore the fact the nightmare had reflected the undeniable state of her heart: not wanting to remember, but terrified to forget. Consumed with emotion, but entirely empty.

The post-nightmare state Beca falls into feels like her body has been put on autopilot. She brushes her teeth and washes her face, changes into leggings and a sweater, and goes to the kitchen to drink her morning coffee. It is all out of routine, and she does not pay fully attention on any of the tasks because her brain is still too busy trying to process the life that once belonged to her, and the reality she now lives in.

It takes ten minutes to get to Griffith Park, twenty-five more to walk up the hill, which is longer than usual because Beca is purposefully walking in a slow pace, and she only takes what it seems to be the first deep breath of the day when a firefly lands on her palm; the tiny green light going on and off a reminder of pure love and unbroken promises.

“Hey little one,” she whispers as the single bug moves around her fingers, and the others shine around her.

And as Aurora rises and tears fill Beca’s eyes, she finds herself wishing Chloe were there holding her, just like the last time. She had texted her when she got home last night, but somehow cannot bring herself to call Chloe now. Not after being at her house—the house that once belonged to Beca herself, and carries her story, which was a happy one for a few years, until an unexpected plot twist turned it into an extremely painful one.

The fireflies fly away, but Beca still does not feel like going back to her apartment, so she lies back against the harsh ground; so many memories are going through her mind, and she does not push them away this time, Beca just lets them come. It does not matter if the tears blur her vision as they keep coming and falling, or that the sun burns her eyes as she refuses to look away as it comes up the horizon. Beca stares at the hot rays until the pain is too much and she has no option but to close her eyes. To feel as the sun dries tears against her cheeks and her whole body feels on fire.

The autopilot is on again, and Beca somehow gets up, dirt all over her clothes, and makes her way down the hill, to her car, up to her apartment, until she is staring blankly at her living room, feeling for the first time how cold it is. Then, Beca does the only thing able to calm her down in moments like this.

She calls her mother. And once again falls apart at the sound of her voice. “It’s been a bad morning, mom.”

“Oh, honey,” sounds like her mother drops something inside the kitchen sink before she speaks again, voice filled with worry. “Can you take some deep breaths for me, Beca?” And the way she never stopped speaking as if Beca is still a child would usually have Beca mad, but today, it has no effect oh her. So Beca does as her mother tells her so, she takes one, two, five deep breaths. As many as it takes so her heart can go back to a normal pace. “Some water might help now, too.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Beca does not really register her words. She is just relieved her mother’s voice is sounding in her ear as she takes slow sips.

“I think of you all the time, honey,” she says. “I just picked up some gypsophilas at the flower shop. You still have the frames I made you, don’t you?”

“I do have them, yes.”

The only thing Beca cannot let go of. The frames, and the lampshade. But she does not mention any of it.

“Good, that’s good. Are you a bit calmer now?” And her mother’s voice is so melodic to her, that Beca had not realized her hands have stopped shaking. She answers she is feeling better, but her mother does not hang up. “So tell me, how’s everything going on sunny LA?”

Everything is the same, is the answer that flashes to Beca’s mind, and she almost voices it before she stops herself. Because there is a little something else now. “I’ve met someone.” Actually, a big something else.

“You did?” her mom sounds extremely surprised on the other end of the phone, and Beca almost laughs. “That is such great news, Beca! Who is he?”

“It’s a she, mom.”

“Oh?” Double the surprise. “Then who is the woman who has stolen my little girl’s heart?”

Beca does laugh at that. “Her name is Chloe,” she starts, and likes the feeling of telling her and Chloe’s story out loud for the first time.

It feels right.

She tells her mother everything. The mistaken text—and the many more after that—the first time they met in person and realized they worked together, the night at the beach and the big surprise of finding out Chloe lives in Beca’s old house.

How Beca feels like not facing Chloe right now.

“Oh wow, that is tricky, honey,” and Beca braces herself for the words she knows are forming on her mother’s mind. “But don’t make Chloe feel like she’s done something wrong. That was a coincidence. I know it’ll never stop hurting, Bec, but consider the things you want for your life right now. And when you’re ready, you can tell Chloe everything. Maybe she can help you. I know that I’m loving to see my little girl excited about something again.”

“Yeah, she... she makes me really happy, mom,” Beca says in a happy sigh.

“I can tell so,” Beca hears her mom’s smile, “and I think she’s right, you really could use a break. Take a few weeks off, go see Jesse and then fly over here. I miss you, and I’d love to meet Chloe.”

“I’ll see what I can do, I promise.”

“Good. I gotta go, sweetheart. The bugs are killing my lettuces and I need to find a way to get rid of them before I burn this damn garden down.” Beca laughs out loud. She had not realized how much she misses her mom. “I love you. I’m always gonna be here for you.”

“Thank you, mom. I love you, too.”

For a few minutes, Beca stands still, just considering a few things. She threw herself into work almost four years ago, so she would not think . Every day used to be a battle, but slowly, the weeks began to fly by. And when Beca realized that forgetting was what made it easier, she would advert herself whenever little details of life brought her memories.

But of course things were not that simple, and her mind quickly started to punish her in return. With nightmares. How could Beca ever find her peace like that? The answer never showed up, so Beca kept working.

Just say yes to this one more client (one more distraction). Finish working on this mix at four in the morning (so you do not go back to sleep). Concentrate every cell in your body on the label (so you don’t think about your personal life). Move from this damn place so the memories and nightmares will not find you again (they did).

And on the first night Beca woke from a bad dream at her new apartment, sweaty and lost, and consumed by shadows, she got out, and walked. It did not matter where to, and she had not idea what she was looking for until she found it—tiny fireflies, and Aurora’s light; Beca remembered a promise, whispered in her ear in a cozy warm bed, and that was the very first time she realized no matter how hard she tries, she will never forget.

Beca had wept until there were no tears left, but she knew only a heart that had known the purest kind of love could break that much.

Her dedication had made her grow inside the label, until she reached the position she is in now, but Chloe and her mother are right. Beca needs a break. She is exhausted .

Then, out of impulse, she calls Cynthia-Rose. She joined the label shortly after Beca, and Beca trusts her to manage things while she is gone.

Just like that, Beca enters a succession of days spent on the couch, wearing sweatpants and hoodies and she feels... weird. She never had whole days to herself—even on weekends, she was always working, always warning her mind and body not to stop, for she would not know what to do if she did.

She talks to Chloe every day, about how things are going at the label, about themselves, about anything—but never about the house.

Not yet.

Not until Wednesday, anyway.

This is the kind of day that starts reflective, and Beca finds herself thinking about what her mother had told her.

Consider the things you want for your life right now.

And maybe Beca have been thinking about it since Saturday, albeit unconsciously, but she had not found an answer until now; for the most part, it is hard to narrow her life down to simply “what she wants.” Her personal needs had been pushed aside years ago, but Beca feels— knows —there was something missing.

For all those years since she and Jesse had divorced, Beca had been wanting eyes to see through her, more than she would allow them. She had been wishing to spin and not feel dizzy enough to fall, for arms that would keep her from touching the ground, and even stronger ones able to lift her off it; simple things. Details.

To laugh, without caring how loud it is. To remember and smile, then cry, and smile again. To dive without fear of how deep she is going. To set her mind free, her heart open and her thoughts running. To feel consumed by new emotions.

Beca just wants to live a continuous happiness again, without feeling like there is something wrong because of that. Guilt free.

And late in the afternoon, when she realizes Chloe has given her all of these things, she leaves her apartment and drives to the place where her nightmares were born, but that now is home to her little seed of hope.

When Beca gets there, Chloe is sitting outside in the balcony, and she has to close her eyes forcefully as the memories come, afraid that if she stares long enough, she will fall apart once more. But when she reopens her eyes, and Chloe is now at the front door, the house greets Beca as an old friend.

She leaves the car and walks slowly towards Chloe.

The river that had started running by Beca’s feet, threatening to pull her body down until she sank, is nowhere in sight now. But Chloe seems to be aware of the muddy puddles all around, and sits down on the front steps, inviting Beca to sit beside her.

Their lips touch in a sweet, short kiss, and Beca pulls Chloe in, smiling when Chloe does not hesitate to lock her arms around her. “I’ve missed you,” she whispers, words muffled by Chloe’s hair that smells so much like home.

“Me, too,” a kiss is planted on Beca’s head before Chloe pulls away. “What’s up?”

Beca shrugs, not sure how to find words for everything she wants to say. She looks down at the steps she has walked countless times in the past. “Do you remember when I told you I thought about moving to New York, but didn’t because I met Jesse?” She starts, waiting for Chloe’s nod before going on, “well, that wasn’t completely true. I stayed because I was pregnant.”

And it is impossible not feel emotional as she gets ready to tell Chloe everything, so Beca just lets the words come.

She talks about how scared she felt back then, how unexpected it was, and the way she would question why it was happening to her, when she never even considered having kids.

But things fell into place, eventually. Jesse asked her to marry him, and although it was insane, for she was only twenty, Beca said yes. It felt right to.

Their daughter was born on February 29th. A leap year baby. How special it all was—so special, that Jesse decided to make an unique lampshade with bright green light and twenty-nine tiny holes that spin slowly; twenty-nine little stars glowing with northern lights.

Beca talks about discovering the world all over again through Aurora’s eyes; people grow and somehow get used to daily miracles. Before becoming a mother, Beca’s eyes would not notice a butterfly flying next to her, and she would never have time to follow the tiny ants’ path on the sidewalk.

Before becoming a mother, Beca was always in a rush. Present body, absent soul, mind already worrying about the future. She had forgotten all the simple gifts. A stranger that smiles at her in a walk, a chocolate secretly put in her purse, two book pages read with a little girl sitting on her lap, a goodnight kiss when you know you are loved.

But for Aurora, it was magical. All of it. She chased butterflies, walked the ants path, laughed with strangers on the street and hid chocolates oh her mama’s purse. It was the most wonderful gift Beca has ever been given.

And to witness her daughter’s firsts in life. To see Aurora turning around on the bed by herself, sitting up and crawling. To listen to that melodic high-pitched baby voice babbling her first words. To watch chubby legs take their insecure first steps.

Aurora was such a happy, curious little girl. As talkative as her father, but all her mother’s temper. She would not fall asleep without music, loved every animal, and she could play for hours by herself. Her most favorite thing was going to work with her mama; everyone knew her at the label, and there was a chorus of “hi, Rory!” everywhere she walked by, always wearing a dress, and little hands that waved back at everyone as she walked in tiny, excited jumps.

Life with Aurora was good. It was exhausting, and hilarious, and fulfilling, and terrifying, but Beca would not have it any other way. It was perfect, until it was not.

The day that changed everything had started normally. A slow Saturday morning, all three of them lazily lying on the bed, then down at the kitchen with music playing as Jesse danced with their daughter, and Beca cooked breakfast. Since a couple days before that, Aurora had been complaining about headaches, which Beca associated with too much screen time, but nothing like that day. Aurora had started to cry, little hands gripping her head and pulling at her hair.

Beca’s heart shrank at the sight of her baby girl in so much pain; the trip to the hospital ended up with vomit all over Aurora, and the backseat of the car.

Everything turned into flashes after that. The look in the doctor’s face as he took Aurora for an urgent brain scan, his sad eyes and cautious voice of someone who has seen this same situation countless times before. Somehow, Beca knew that it was serious.

There is not an easy way to tell parents their kid has a brain tumor with minimal possibility of a complete surgical removal. When the words left the doctor’s mouth, Beca felt the ground being roughly pulled from underneath her feet as Jesse fell apart beside her, clinging to Aurora’s sleeping little body. She was consumed with fear, but she did not cry. At that time, there was hope.

Beca could not believe what was happening. Her daughter was three. Why would something so awful happen to someone so little? Why it had to be her baby girl?

Aurora’s surgery was just the beginning of the really steep hill in Beca’s life. It went well, and the doctors removed what was possible of the tumor, but Aurora had a seizure that delayed her recovery.

Watching her little girl’s body shutting down was the hardest thing Beca ever had to experience; the first three rounds of chemotherapy was rough. Beca and Jesse explained to their daughter—in the best way it could be done with such a small child—why she would not go back to preschool so soon, why they had to stay weeks at the hospital for treatments, and why her beautiful hair that had never been cut before was falling down so quickly.

She was just a toddler, but Beca has yet to meet someone who pays such attention to little details as her daughter did. Aurora noticed every tear that filled their eyes, and how the whole situation was making her mama and daddy so sad. She would smile, and say, “no crying. The doctors are making me better, yeah?”

Beca always nodded, and snuggled close to her daughter while trying to ignore the sharp pain in her heart.

After three months at the hospital, Aurora was allowed to go home for the Hollidays. It was another journey, getting used to having her home, remembering to give her medicines and going back to the hospital every day for radiation. She was weaker and still needed oxygen support, but they were at home . And in the middle of such uncertain days filled with pain, Aurora would never, ever, stop smiling. That was the only thing able to comfort Beca’s heart.

After New Years, Beca went back to work at the label. From eight in the morning to lunch time, because her boss had been understanding of her situation at home. Such a small period of the day, but still enough to make Aurora miss her.

She called Beca every day through Jesse’s phone, a “hi, mama!” whispered on the other end, as if they were sharing a secret. And only later that Beca had found out Jesse never knew about the calls.

Slowly, Aurora was getting better. When February arrived, she only needed oxygen support when she was sleeping. Things were going so great, until once more, they suddenly were not.

Aurora’s scans showed the cancer had spread to the spine. Beca was alone with her daughter at the hospital as tears of disbelief filled her eyes. How was it possible? Aurora was feeling better, her improvements notable. But the doctor said she had roughly three weeks left. No more further treatments to do. Nothing.

How do you get ready to bury your own child? Beca wanted to scream her lungs out at how unfair it all was. To hold Aurora close to her, as if doing so, time would never pass and they could live forever in a loop of the same days over and over again. All the days starting with the most beautiful smile she has ever seen, and the sweetest voice calling for her, midnight eyes that looked exactly like Beca’s sparkling in delight of the simplest of things.

Beca just wanted to trade places with her baby girl, to beg to the universe to take her instead. And back at that night, when she was alone at the kitchen with a glass of wine between shaky hands, Beca closed her eyes and prayed. Probably for the first time in her life. She had no idea who she was praying to, but she asked for a miracle. A solution. Anything to keep her little girl with her.

But if there was anything out there, they did not listen to Beca’s desperate pleas. Or maybe they just did not care.

Aurora made it to her birthday. It was the first time they were celebrating it on her actual day, for it was the first leap year since she was born, and everybody came to celebrate. People from the label, her and Jesse’s parents, family and friends. That was the moment Beca realized it was not only about them.

They were all struggling together. Aurora was a darling girl, loved by so many people. Acknowledging that had made Beca’s heart grow and bleed all at once.

Later that day, when Jesse was showering and Beca was alone on their bed with their daughter’s sleepy body close to hers, she felt Aurora turning between her arms. “Look mama,” she whispered, lifting a finger.

There was a green dot in there, and for a minute Beca thought it was just the reflection of the lampshade. “Oh!” She breathed in surprise, “that’s a firefly, Rory!”

Aurora giggled, “I know.” She carefully took Beca’s hand between her little fingers and placed the bug on her mother’s open palm, “I’m gonna be one of them, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. I dreamed it.” Aurora snuggled in her mom’s chest, breathing in a little tired sigh. “Love you, mama.”

At that moment, Beca did not know it was a promise. She just held her daughter closer, and whispered “I love you, too. I will love you for ages,” while letting the tiny firefly’s glow remind her that there was still hope.

But it did not last long.

Aurora passed a week later.

Then, Beca let out everything she had been holding up inside her. Because she always believed. She truly had believed it was just a very aggressive storm that would go away. But after everything was over, Beca did not think her daughter was free of pain. The only thing able to fill her mind was the fact she would never get to know the person Aurora would become. She would never see her daughter running around the house while stumbling on toys all around the floor again. No more sweet goodnight kisses, no more smiles, no more  sparkling midnight eyes.

One more time. Please, let me see her smile one more time, Beca begged inside her mind as tears fell down her cheeks and she did not bother to wipe them away.

Where is the God everyone talks about? Why would he allow her precious little one to suffer so much?

Of course, there was no answer.

Being Aurora’s mother was the most beautiful gift Beca has ever been given. And even that was taken from her, in the cruelest way.

Beca and Jesse were left completely empty. A house filled with all the signals that a child had once lived there, even though Aurora would never step in there again.

It all was the wildest ride of them all, in such a short period of time. Falling in love with Jesse at eighteen, getting pregnant and married at twenty, having a baby at twenty-one, being forced to watch as her daughter slowly declined until she took her last breath when Beca was twenty-four, and getting divorced months later because there was nothing positive she could bring to Jesse’s life anymore.

The river had started running. The dark waves bringing nothing but sorrow as they collapsed against Beca’s body, making her tumble and fall. She did not want to bring Jesse down with her.

Saying it all out loud is way harder than Beca thought it would be. The tears come and fall, and Beca lets Chloe wipe them away. She can see Chloe’s eyes glistening with sadness for the child she never met, but takes comfort in the way Chloe looks at her.

With passion. As if Beca’s pieces are  coming together again, and it does not matter that the view is a little blurred and reflects a mended-together doll, because Chloe looks at her as she always did. With pure devotion.

And when their bodies come together once again, somehow in the tightest embrace they have ever shared, Beca lets a shaky sigh out, feeling safe between the arms of the woman she loves, as they sit on the steps of the house that had known Beca’s past, and knows Chloe’s present.

She can see the house behind a curtain of red curls, and almost expects to see Aurora running outside, with happy giggles flying out of her mouth.

Never again, her mind reminds her.

They pull away, Chloe framing Beca’s face between her hands. “You are the strongest woman I’ve ever known,” her thumbs softly stroke Beca’s cheekbones, “and Aurora was the luckiest little one for having you as her mama. I’m sure she knew it.”

Beca smiles, lifting her head so their foreheads are touching. “Come to my apartment today?”

“Of course. Let me just grab a few things, yeah?” She pecks Beca’s lips before standing and walking towards the house.

“And, Chlo?” Chloe turns around, waiting. “I know it can be weird, or uncomfortable for you... but would you go visit Jesse with me this weekend? I’m not really sure yet how it’ll make me feel.” Beca bites on the inside of her cheek, “not because he moved on, I promise,” she rushes to add, “I’m just—“

“Beca, I understand it. You don’t have to explain.” Chloe comes closer once again, going down on her knees to kiss Beca a couple times, “I will go anywhere with you.”

And Beca’s heart melts.

When they finally get back to her apartment, Beca opens a bottle of wine and serves two glasses, handing one to Chloe. They sit on the couch, Beca’s laptop in her lap, one of her hands holding Chloe’s.

A picture of Aurora shows up on the screen. It was clearly Autumn, and the rays of sunshine lighted up her her hair as she stood at their backyard.

Beca feels the tears coming once more. “I hid all of her pictures here, so I wouldn’t look at them on my phone all the time.” Chloe squeezes her hand in encouragement to keep talking. “It’s just so hard, you know? For years I’ve been wanting to forget, but now that the memories I have of her, even the strongest ones, are slowly fading away, I... want to remember. I don’t wanna forget her.”

“Bec, I’ve never been through anything even remotely similar to that. But trying to forget someone who was such a beautiful part of your life... you just don’t. You won’t forget Aurora. I know it’s incredibly painful, but sometimes healing hurts way more than the wound itself. But you gotta heal anyway.” Chloe turns to face the screen, pointing a finger towards the picture, “Aurora is helping you. She has been sending you her fireflies. A little reminder that she will never leave you.”

At Chloe’s words, Beca’s heart grows in love and gratitude. She cannot find a way to express her feelings other than kissing Chloe, long and languidly, whispering a small “thank you” when she pulls back.

They spent a handful of moments looking at pictures of Aurora. The one face Beca misses the most; Chloe asks questions, what was Aurora’s first words, what was her favorite color, her favorite things to do. Beca answers them all, a smile surging on her lips.

She shows Chloe pictures of their dogs—Adorable, Anorable and Acorable, Dora, Nora and Cora for short. All names picked by Aurora. Chloe laughs out loud; she tells Chloe about how Aurora used to say “blue-fly,” instead of butterfly, and how she used to ask why there were not any “green-flies” and “pink-flies,” and how Aurora’s hair grew so that her blonde baby hair fell to the bottom, while the rest of her hair was brunette. People would stop Beca at the street all the time to ask if she had dyed her daughter’s hair, and Beca always explained that Aurora just had never had a haircut.

It feels so good to talk about her daughter with Chloe. Beca had not realized how much she needed it.

“What was your favorite thing about her?” Chloe asks.

And that is hard to answer, because Beca loved every inch of her daughter. “Everything about her was special,” she says at last, “even her name.”

“Did you pick it yourself?”

“Jesse suggested it. When he was little, his dad took him to Alaska to see an Aurora Borealis. It’s his favorite memory, and it was a sweet way to honor his dad.” Beca explains, “But I fell in love with its meaning. The dawn. It felt nice to think she would be the dawning of a new day in our lives, you know?” Chloe nods at her. “Jesse’s biggest dream was to take her to watch an Aurora Borealis someday.” Beca smiles sadly at the picture showing on the screen right now—shirtless Aurora wearing only a tutu, smelling flowers.

“It’s a beautiful name,” Chloe comments.

Beca shakes her head, trying to push the sadness away. “It is. And the funniest part is that her initials form the word ‘ages.’ We didn’t realize it until months after she was born.”

“What was her full name?”

“Aurora Gypsi Elle Swanson,” Beca answers. She loved her daughter’s name so much. “Gypsi from gypsophila, my grandmother’s favorite flower, and Elle to honor Jesse’s.”

I will love you for ages.

Beca smiles. And then hears Chloe voice what had started as a feeling inside her chest, and recently had grown into words that wanted to come out so badly.

Chloe’s fingers stroke her hair, and she tucks a misplaced curl behind Beca’s ear. “I love you, you know.”

Beca does not hesitate. Does not have to stop to consider it. “I love you, too.” She slides impossibly closer, kissing Chloe to mark her words, “so much.”

***

Chloe’s fingers are tightly laced with hers, but Beca squeezes them more forcefully, though it has nothing to do with the fact the plane just started its descent through the sky. The problem is where they are landing.

She has not seen Jesse since March. It was Jesse’s idea to meet every year so they could spend Aurora’s birthday together. It is always a bittersweet time where the two of them meet to celebrate the gift of the short four years of life they got to spend by their daughter’s side.

The first year was the hardest one. Of course it was, everything was too recent, the wounds were all bleeding still. Jesse had convinced Beca to fly to New York and they spent the day at Central Park; the next two were spent at different places and traveling became a tradition. Florida when Aurora should have turned six, San Francisco when she should have turned seven.

On her birthday, Beca cooked a cake and they left to find a quiet place where they could sit down over a blanket, eat, drink wine and spend the day just talking. About how they miss Aurora’s laugh, and Aurora’s eyes, and her voice, even her tantrums. To wonder is usual, too. To ask themselves about the many other sides of their daughter they will never get to know.

Would she play soccer like her best friend who lived next door, with “Rory” printed on the back of her shirt? Or would she prefer “Aurora?” Would “you are my sunshine” still calm her down, and “if all of the raindrops” make her grab an umbrella and dance excitedly like it used to? What would she have asked for birthday this year, and the year before, and the year before? Would she feel too grown up for cuddles? How would her voice sound and her hair look?

Too many unanswered questions for two shattered hearts.

It was on that last time, in San Francisco, that Jesse told Beca he and his wife were expecting a baby.

Beca knows Caro, she was there for their wedding, with happy tears filling her eyes that Jesse had finally found himself again. But she never had fully contact with a child since Aurora, and if now that this day has arrived and her hands are sweaty as Chloe holds it between her fingers, that is okay.

She shakes a leg anxiously as they wait for their bags and feels Chloe gently rubbing her back as they walk, Beca looking for familiar chocolate eyes between the crowd.

Pretty much like her mother, Jesse was the happiest when Beca mentioned Chloe on the phone, and the biggest smile paints his lips at the sight of them.

“Becaw!” he greets, inviting Beca in a bear hug. “I’ve missed you.”

“Same, dude,” Beca awkwardly pats his back before pulling away. “This is Chloe,” she introduces and steps aside as Jesse takes Chloe’s hand between his, before pulling her in a welcoming hug. Beca catches his wink.

The drive to Jesse’s house is filled with chatting—more from Chloe than anybody else. Beca is thankful for that, and she smiles when her eyes catches Chloe in the  rear-view mirror; when they finally get there, Jesse helps them with the bags, as Caro opens the door with the biggest smile on her lips.

Beca likes her. Caro—pretty much like Chloe—is such a happy person, always smiling and spreading light everywhere she goes. Beca has seen her only twice, though: in a weekend a couple years ago, when she and Jesse traveled to Los Angeles, and at the wedding.

“It’s so good to see you again, Beca!” Caro brings her closer in a hug. “And you must be Chloe!”

“Nice to meet you, Carolina!” Chloe steps in for a hug, too.

Caro steps back, gesticulating, “Caro is fine! Come on in, guys, you must be hungry.”

“Oh, that I am! Jesse told us you’re an amazing cooker.” Chloe says as she enters the house.

Caro starts talking about what she has cooked for dinner, but Beca stops listening properly after the words “sancocho” and “pandebono.” She turns her head towards where the girls are heading to the kitchen, but her gaze lands on a familiar face. Eyes that seem to drag Beca into them, and she walks towards them, wanting so desperately that they could smile at her.

Of course Jesse would have a picture of Aurora framed on the wall. But Beca had not prepared herself for the impact it would cause on her heart. How natural it still feels, even after almost-four years.

She opens her mouth to speak, or maybe take a really needed deep breath. Everything she hears reaches her ears in a muffled sound, as if Beca is underwater, but somehow cannot bring herself up to breathe. Cannot swim fast enough.

Then there is a hand on her shoulder. “Beca, are you okay?”

It is Chloe, eyes filled with worry. Beca looks away from the picture to meet Jesse’s gaze. He smiles sadly at her from the kitchen door, giving a short nod. She nods back, and after taking a collecting breath, Beca takes Chloe’s hand in hers and follows Caro’s voice to the dining room.

They are just about to sit when a cry comes from the baby monitor. Jesse excuses himself and is gone for a while, coming back with a smiling baby boy in one side of his hips.

“He looks just like Caro!” It is the first thing Beca says, while lifting a hand to take chubby fingers between hers, “Hi, Matthias!” The baby giggles at her, shaking his legs excitedly.

Chloe is next, talking to Matthias is a baby voice that is new to Beca, but cute all the same; Jesse puts the baby in the high chair so they can finally have dinner, and conversation flows quickly.

They talk about how things are going at the label, and Chloe tells them their story.

“So let me see if I got it right,” Jesse points a fingers at her, “You’re Chloe’s boss, but you didn’t know you were talking to her?”

“Exactly!” Chloe exclaims, and Jesse throws his head backwards in a laugh.

“This is such an original love story!” He comments.

And Beca laughs along with them, because talking about her and Chloe is safe. Looking into Chloe’s eyes, and holding her hand beneath the table is safe. But as Caro excuses herself with a baby on her hip, and a green cup about to be filled with water in hand, it is so easy to focus on what is lacking.

To—not for the first time—imagine a reality where she and Jesse just did not work out, and Beca would be looking at her daughter, instead of at a picture. A reality where there would be one more cup to be filled with water, and one more plate to be cleaned after dinner.

Just one more.

There would be more laughter and an unknown personality at the table, a different voice, with its own wants and demands.

And as Beca lies down beside Chloe at Jesse’s guest bedroom, trying to keep her mind clear so she does not focus on the crying baby upstairs, she breathes in and out slowly, hoping Chloe’s arms will be enough to keep all the nightmares away from her.

At least for tonight.

The next day they go to the park. It is cold and humid, but the sun shines weakly between holes in the grey clouds, pretty much like Beca’s heart.

They sit on a blanket and listen to music. They talk about how quickly the seasons change while drinking lulada—a citrus drink from Caro’s hometown in Colombia—and laugh out loud when Matthias rolls over after attempting to crawl in heavy winter clothes.

The weather has gotten too cold with the absence of sun, so they decide to leave to warm up and drink wine back at the house. It happens right when Jesse starts packing. A firefly lands on Matthias nose, glowing once before flying away from him. The baby smiles at the bug, lifting chubby hands to try and catch it as it flies towards Beca, then towards Jesse.

The world suddenly grows silent, or at least it feels like it does, as they all sit and just watch the tiny green light flying away, away, away, until it disappears. Matthias giggles, Jesse sniffles, and it is okay if Beca’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. It is okay, because she knows there is a sixth spirit around them, somewhere (everywhere.)

And somehow, between glasses of wine and loud laughs as the four of them play Jenga together, the worry Beca has felt when she first arrived slips away and leaves behind only smiles and a light feeling, which Beca is not completely to used to, but that feels good anyway.

She feels happy as she watches Chloe taking Matthias in her arms and twirling him in the air. The baby giggles, and Chloe smiles before dotting kisses all over his face.

She feels happy as she hears the sound of Jesse’s steps as he runs away from Caro, who tries to catch the phone from her husbands hand to see the video he have just recorded when a giant piece of Jenga hit her head.

She feels happy as she rests her head in the couch behind her, a sigh of contentment leaving her mouth and the pleasant buzz of tipsiness licking warmly over her body.

It is a fun night, although simple, but Beca cannot remember the last time she had felt so... peaceful.

Chloe kisses her deeply when they finally fall in bed, and Beca closes her eyes without any fear for the first time in a really long time.

But the bridge comes to her tonight.

She is in the middle of a dark forest this time, walking the endless bridge to get on the other side. The safe one. There is a voice calling for her. “Mommy?” Her daughter calls for her.

“Where are you?” She screams, desperate. Tries to run, but the bridge is uncertain and naked branches from trees on each side scratches her arms, her face, her hands. She is barefoot, she notices for the the first time. Her feet hurts and bruise and her body shakes. She is not sure it can handle her own weight. “Aurora, where are you?” She tries once more, looking at the dark clouds through the dense foliage.

“I’m here, mommy,” Aurora replies. But her voice seems to be coming from everywhere. From the birds on the branches, the dry leaves, the ropes on each side of the bridge. The infinite itself. “I’m right here.” So she keeps walking the bridge, not sure if she is walking towards her daughter, or away from her.

When Beca blinks her eyes open, she is faced with baby blues staring directly at her. Chloe rubs her back gently before letting her fingers travel towards Beca’s cheek, stroking it gently.

Beca swallows, her mouth dry. “Sorry I woke you up.”

Chloe shakes her head. “You were shaking,” she takes sweaty hair away from Beca’s forehead before planting a kiss there.

“I need a glass of water,” Beca says, already moving the covers from her body.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I’m fine,” she pecks Chloe’s lips, “I’ll be quick.”

And Beca does intend to be quick, but when she gets to the kitchen, Caro is already there with Matthias. She tries to leave the kitchen unnoticed, but Caro catches her eyes before Beca disappears in the shadows. “Oh, I’m sorry, did he wake you up?”

“No, it’s okay. I just came for a glass of water,” she explains.

“You got it,” Caro moves around the kitchen, filling a glass with water. “Ice?”

“Yes, please,” she answers. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Caro smiles gently at her. “This little man is giving us a hard time tonight,” she tells Beca, before sitting on a chair and running a thumb over the bridge of Matthias’ nose slowly.

A thought occurs to Beca then. “Aurora loved it when we did it to her,” she thinks and blinks her eyes wide in surprise after realizing she said it out loud.

But Caro does not seem to care. “Yeah, Jesse always does it to Matty.” She looks up to meet Beca’s eyes. “He talks a lot about her, you know.”

“He does?” Beca asks, but of course Jesse does. She was the only one who wanted to forget.

“Yeah. How could he not? She’s always gonna be a part of his life.”

“And Jesse just loves... talking,” Beca comments.

Caro chuckles, “he really does.” Matthias complains in his mother’s arms and Caro stands. “Guess I’ll make him a bottle and see if he finally sleeps.”

“Do you want me to...?” Beca walks towards her, arms extended towards Matthias.

“Thank you,” Caro lets Beca take him from her arms as she moves to get his bottle by the sink.

Beca had forgotten how it feels like to hold a baby this small in her arms. It is a weird feeling, but not a bad one. She sits on a chair and supports his head on her right forearm. Matthias is agitated, but sloppily rubs his eyes a couple times. “Oh, you’re so sleepy, little man.” She says while looking down at the baby, and does not stop to consider how quickly she had recognized the fact.

Beca just knew he was sleepy.

She has seen a baby his age rubbing their eyes like that before.

“Jesse really admires you,” Caro tells Beca distractedly, walking towards her and giving her the bottle so that she can feed Matthias. Beca meets her eyes. “He says you were the one who held the edges when everything fell apart.”

Beca blinks, shocked. “He told you that?”

“Yes,” Caro nods. “He told me he fell in desperation, but you didn’t. He said you were always the strong one.”

But Beca shakes her head at that, looking down at the baby in her arms, drinking his milk and blinking dark eyes and long lashes up at her. “I just... I’m not good at showing emotions. I wanted to be strong for him and for my daughter, but on the inside I was falling apart. I didn’t want them to see me like that.”

“Every breath you take is a demonstration of your sheer courage, Beca,” Caro starts, voice low and careful, “and it’s true that I know nothing other than what Jesse tells me, but I’m sure you were an amazing mother.”

Were.

A word that small should not feel like a thousand knives being buried slowly into Beca’s heart.

She looks down at Matthias eyes, wishing so badly they could turn to midnight blue. Just for a second. The words scape her mouth before Beca can catch them.

“I stayed with Aurora through everything. Every appointment, chemo and radiotherapy section. I was there for every bad news we got, and the few happy ones too.” Beca stops then, placing the empty bottle on the table and before rocking the baby in her arms from side to side. “When she had her last seizure, just after her birthday, we left to the hospital in a rush and Jesse stayed with her so I could get us coffee.” Tears are filling her eyes, but Beca is too far gone to stop talking now. “A nurse shortly came after me. Said Aurora wouldn’t stop screaming that she wanted her mommy. And I don’t know why, but I felt something weird at that moment,” she looks up to face Caro, letting a couple tears free. “I always believed she would make it, you know? Maybe I didn’t want to cry because crying would make it all... real. And I didn’t want it to be real.”

“When I got to the room, Aurora gripped my body in a way she had never done before. She kept saying ‘mommy, I wanna go home. Please take me home,’ and it killed me. It killed me and it hurt so much I looked away from her. But Jesse didn’t. Aurora was holding my hand, squeezing it hard, and then she stopped.” Beca takes a very needed deep breath, wiping tears away from her cheeks. “And then the world stopped, and my life stopped. And now I have to live with the fact I never looked at my daughter knowing it was the last time. I looked away. And now, I’d give everything to look at her just one more time. It could be a single second, I wouldn’t mind. I... miss her, Caro. I miss her so much.”

Caro makes the short distance between them, and hugs her carefully. She clearly does not know what to say, but Beca does not care. Does not know why she had started talking in the first place, but she feels lighter now. But not as if a weight was lifted from her shoulders, but as if someone’s taken an eraser and flashed it over her body, leaving her empty. Blank.

In her arms, Matthias smiles in his sleep. Beca wonders if he is dreaming about his sister.

When she makes it back to the room, Chloe is still awake. Her eyes are probably wet and swollen, but Chloe does not say anything, and Beca does not ask if she heard. Instead, Chloe brings their bodies together, a leg between hers, an arm around her waist, Beca’s face buried in her neck, as close as they can get.

“I love you, Beca.” And just from the way she sounds—broken, voice low and wavy, as if there is not enough oxygen in the room—Beca knows she heard everything. “I love you so much.”

And for the second time, Beca does not hesitate. “I love you, too.

***

They leave Jesse’s house on Sunday, with the promise of meeting more often. Beca flies to Seattle to spend time with her mother, Chloe flies back to Los Angeles for the week.

Her mother is at work when the plane lands, so Beca takes an uber to her house and is faced with a bouquet of gypsophilas, some chocolate chip and banana muffins her mother knows are Beca’s favorites, and a note saying “Welcome home, honey. Can’t wait to catch up later. Love you, mom x.”

Beca goes upstairs to the room that once belonged to her, then to Aurora, and now is just another guest bedroom with vestiges of their previous owners: a vintage circular wooden mirror Beca picked up when she was ten, and neon stars glued to the ceiling that probably have been there since she was born. The drawer her mother bought when Aurora turned one. Pictures on the wall, the same “I will love you for AGES” framed quote Beca has at her apartment and a purple bunny Aurora gifted her grandmother when she was two.

A customized bunny. It speaks when its belly is pressed, but instead of usual quotes, this one has Aurora’s voice; it was Jesse’s idea to have something that special made for their mothers, and as Beca presses the bunny’s belly and Aurora says “I love you, gwanma,” in her two-year-old baby voice, she wishes she could have one of these for herself, too.

She throws herself on the bed, the bunny pressed firmly against her chest, and looks up at the neon stars, realizing it is the first time she enters the room since Aurora died. Funny how it was the first place her feet have brought her.

That is how her mother finds her.

“Oh, honey,” her mom says, opening her arms and inviting Beca into them.

Beca had considered cooking dinner, but the kitchen is a sacred place for her mother, so she quickly discarded the option. Her mother asks about Jesse, Caro and their baby, and Beca shows her the pictures she has taken over the weekend, though she knows there is one main thing she wants to talk about.

“So, how’s that heart of yours?” Her mother asks, brows lifted up and a smirk on her lips.

“Um, it’s beating, I think.”

“Does it have the word ‘Chloe’ printed on it?”

“Mom!” Beca warns, blushing like she was a teenager all over again.

Her mother laughs, “come on, Bec. I haven’t seen you excited about someone for years.”

Beca shrugs as they sit to finally eat dinner—breakfast for dinner. Beca’s favorite. “Well, she’s great. And funny, and talented.”

“I can tell she’s been good for you.” Her mother pauses to take a bite of the bacon on her plate. “Did you tell her?” Beca nods. “How did you feel?”

“Kinda weird at the beginning, to be honest,” there is no point in lying to her mom. “I never talked about Aurora with someone who didn’t know her. But telling Chloe felt... not good, but...”

“Better than not telling her?” Her mom suggests, and Beca nods. “Then I’m happy for you, honey. And I can’t wait to meet Chloe this Friday.”

Beca smiles.

And for yet another week, she has nothing to do. But it is a bunch of fun days, where Beca and her mother spend some very much needed time (re)bonding.

She cooks dinner every night when her mom gets home from work, and they eat while watching Beca’s (few) childhood movies, and Beca sleeps in the bedroom she has slept countless time before—first by herself, then with her daughter, and now by herself again.

Same, but different.

On Thursday, Beca leaves home before the sun is up to hike and watch the sunrise. There is no firefly, but there is light. And it is enough.

When Friday finally arrives, she hugs Chloe tightly at the airport. It is a surprise how quickly Beca has learned to miss her—her smell, the touch of her hand in hers, her smile. Just Chloe’s presence beside her.

Her mother greets Chloe with the biggest hug. She smiles all the time, and at least for tonight, she does not tell Chloe embarrassing memories from Beca’s childhood. Instead, she asks how they met, and listens to each and every one of Chloe’s words, although she has heard the story before.

They do not chat much, because Chloe is exhausted from working all day, so she and Beca excuse themselves and follow upstairs to the bedroom.

Beca shows her around and tells her stories. Stories these walls know as well as Beca. Chloe smiles as she speaks, and there is a sparkle in her eyes that silently tells Beca how much she appreciates the pieces of herself Beca shares bit by bit.

The bed is empty beside her the next morning, and there is chatting coming from downstairs. Beca smiles to herself as her body slowly wakes up, and as she takes her time showering and getting ready for the day.

Chloe is sitting on the couch when Beca finally makes it to the living room, eyes focused on the pictures her mother is showing her.

“At least you waited a day,” Beca enters the room, pointing a finger towards her mom.

“Oh, honey, don’t be so salty!”

Chloe laughs, “has she always been this moody in the mornings?”

“Since day one,” her mother answers. “At least until we gave her her food.”

“Whoa, okay. I’ll leave you two talking like I’m not standing right here, and I’ll go get my coffee,” she teases, but she is smiling.

Although Beca has always been surprisingly open with her mother about her love life, Jesse was the only person she ever brought home. She was nervous for a second or two on her way to the airport the day before, until she reminded it is Chloe.

And everybody loves Chloe.

Happiness is flourishing in heart slowly, like waves in the ocean retreating themselves after touching your feet. Wild and free.

Confirmation that her mother did like Chloe comes when she announces she is baking an apple pie. Beca knows it, because her mother’s love language is to bake people their favorite desserts, and she heard Chloe commenting she loves apple pie.

Her mother leaves to buy cinnamon as Beca and Chloe stay in the house to get things started.

And then it happens.

Beca was not expecting it.

She is cutting apples, listening to Chloe’s voice behind her as she hums a random song. Beca’s eyes are suddenly blurred with tears she has no idea where they came from. The kiss Chloe plants on her neck as she walks past her sets a single tear free. Beca watches as it falls and lands on her wrist.

She cannot see properly, but does not stop cutting the apples and feels the knife as is runs through her middle finger; there is a minute then. Where Beca knows she cut her finger but ir does not feel real, because although it hurts with a sharp pain, her skin is still pale and soft.

Then the blood comes.

Beca does not want to cry. But she has seen the blood, and as if she was the child in the swing again, another tear falls on her thumb, and another on her forearm and she cannot do anything to stop them. Within seconds she is gasping for air and leaves in a rush, forgetting about the apples and following to her mother’s garden at the backyard. She sits on a chair, head between her hands.

Beca has multiple wounds. Some are scars, some healed, some open. But life somehow moves on before she sees the blood. Only that this time Beca has seen it.

Chloe finds her seconds later, “Beca, what happened?” she hears Chloe steps come to a stop, then a gasp, “you’re bleeding!” and Chloe is gone again.

She quickly comes back and takes Beca’s hand between hers, cleaning the cut in her finger.

“See, this is why I usually don’t let people in,” it hurts to speak, so Beca keeps her voice low. “I can’t be fixed up.”

“I’m not here to fix you up,” and it feels ironic, because Chloe says it while wrapping Beca’s cut finger in a bandaid. “I’m just walking along with you. And if it means that I have to clean your wounds sometimes, or hold you when you have a nightmare, I will. ”

“I know that what I’ve been through is nothing special. Life is hard, and pain is universal,” she smiles sadly. “I just think you deserve a happy ending with someone less broken than me, Chlo.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” Chloe kneels down in front of her, carefully taking her face between her fingers, “even happy endings can be hard, and it isn’t easily wrapped up. I am broken too. Everyone is. It’s part of humanity. And I bring my brokenness and my messiness into every aspect of my life, just like you do. We aren’t meant to fix each other, Bec. Just to make each other’s journeys a little bit lighter.”

Chloe wipes the remaining tears away, and does not say anything as new ones come. But she never leaves, although Beca has nothing to say.

It feels like a small eternity they stay there, just listening to the few cars coming up the street, each other’s breaths, the incessant buzz of insects on the garden around them. All the signals of life.

And Beca is glad she has been sharing pieces of herself, because every time Chloe’s nose brushes hers, she feels like Chloe is giving them back to herself.

“Just so you know,” Beca says as they stand, “I’ve never cried while cutting apples before.”

Chloe chuckles, planting a kiss on her head, “me neither.”

***

Going back to work feels wonderful. Chloe sleeps at Beca’s place on Sunday night, so the morning routing on Monday is a bit different than Beca is used to.

They shower together, get ready together, eat breakfast together, go to the label together, have lunch together, say their goodbyes by the end of the day, and Beca’s apartment feels incredible empty when she returns.

Things feel a bit different at the label, too. Work is the same, but Beca has been... smiling a lot more, which was unusual before her two weeks off, and does not go unnoticed by everyone around.

“Jeez, Beca,” Cynthia-Rose exclaims one day, “what has Ginger done to you?”

She loved me, Beca thinks, but lifts a finger towards her friend. “Behave,” she warns, but she is smiling.

Jesse and Caro fly to Los Angeles for the annual Halloween party the label throws. It is a huge, fancy event in a closed club. Beca gets to meet Chloe’s friends and overhears as one of them whispers in Chloe’s ear “you know, when I told you to start a mysterious love affair with the person on the other end of the phone, I didn’t think you’d actually go for it.” Her friend lifts a glass towards Chloe. Stacie , Beca remembers. “Cheers to you, Chlo!”

Life has been really good the last few months, and when the weird feeling that everything could go down any minute surges in Beca’s heart, it takes everything she has to push it aside, lock it up inside a box and throw the key away.

Not her , she begs to the dark sky when she is alone. Please, don’t take Chloe from me too.

And she has a feeling that this time they will listen to her.

November and the beginning of December are always busy. Everyone is rushing to finish client works before closing for the Holidays. It is always a mess, and people are always stressed—mostly Beca—but they always make it.

This wrap party is different, too, because Beca stays to the end. She drinks, chats, takes lots of pictures with lots of people, and it feels... different. Good.

She flies to Seattle to spend Christmas with her mom and visit her dad and his wife, and then back to L.A. for the New Year’s Party with Chloe and her friends.

They go back to work the second week of January. Things are always chill at the label in the beginning of the year, so Beca leaves a bit earlier to buy lunch and flowers to surprise Chloe.

She knocks on the door of Chloe’s office, opening the door after hearing her “come in!”

“Hey,” Beca greets. “I’ve brought sushi, and these are for you,” she hands Chloe the bouquet.

Chloe’s eyes light up, “oh, they are so beautiful,” she approaches, accepting the flowers and kissing her sweetly. “You are so soft,” she teases.

“Shut up,” Beca complains.

“Don’t be grumpy,” Chloe kisses her nose before pulling away to carefully place the flowers on her desk. “You know I’m right.”

“Whatever,” Beca rolls her eyes. They land on Chloe’s laptop. “Are you moving?” She asks, pointing to the open website there.

“Oh, this,” Chloe sits on a chair, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it. I hate that you feel uncomfortable with the place I live. I... want to have you over, and dance with you around my living room, and cook you breakfast knowing that you’d be on my bed, waiting for me. So yes, I’m planning to move soon.”

Beca’s heart clenches and expands at the same time. She strokes Chloe’s cheekbone tenderly, “you know you don’t have to do it, right?”

“I know,” Chloe takes Beca’s hand, pulling at it, “but I want to.”

A thought crosses Beca’s mind. She moves to sit on Chloe’s lap, arms circling her neck. “Then you could move in with me.”

Chloe’s eyes widen and she pulls back from their almost-kiss, “wait, are you serious?”

Beca catches her lips anyway, murmuring an “uh-huh” against her lips, and then, “I get kinda lonely at nights,” when she pulls back.

Chloe looks up at her with sparkly hopeful eyes, and Beca knows the answer before Chloe voices, “I would love to move in with you.”

And it happens as simple and quick as their talk. Beca does not help Chloe packing, and Chloe does not ask her to. They FaceTime all the time, though, mostly Chloe’s friend Amy talking to Beca and drinking wine as an excuse not to help Chloe, Aubrey and Stacie as they pack.

On Sunday, they are living together. A new kind of different, but just as good. Beca loves to go to work with Chloe every day and go back home— their home—for a whole night of loving Chloe and just being by her side.

It feels right.

It feels safe .

But somehow, as the weeks fly by, Beca’s body falls in tension, and her eyes tear up at random times of the day. Her emotional feels it before her mind acknowledges it is February the 1st.

February, with its spring-like days and cool nights, brings a cloud to Beca’s self. It would be impossible not to. Most days she feels moody and uncomfortable in her skin, selfishly wishing that somehow this month could be erased from the calendar.

And her Chloe is always there to stroke her head, and hold her shaking body in the middle of the night when the bridge comes to her, just like she has told Beca she would be.

On days like these, when Beca is sad, Chloe is the one who tells her stories. Some are ordinary, like a day on the first job Chloe’s ever had. Others are treasured memories from Chloe’s childhood. Some are moments Chloe wishes she could forget, others are crazy adventures she has lived by her best friend’s side—these make Beca laugh the most.

They get home from work on a stormy night, eat dinner together, Chloe showers first, then Beca does. It is February 19th. Beca knows because she counts. When she leaves the bathroom, Chloe is sitting in the middle of their bed, with an envelope in hands. She taps the bed beside her, inviting Beca to sit, so she does, not sure of what is going on because Chloe seems nervous.

“Caro called me a couple days ago,” Chloe begins, first looking down at her hands, then up to meet Beca’s gaze. She smiles. “She told me about your and Jesse’s tradition, of... you know. Aurora’s birthday.” Beca nods. “So we both wanted to give you guys this,” Chloe hands her the envelope.

Beca opens it, reads it, and then gasps. “You’ve bought me a ticket to Alaska?”

“Uh-huh,” Chloe nips on her lower lip, “you didn’t like it?”

“No, I... loved it. I did,” Beca takes her hand in hers, “but it says ‘February 27th.’ That’s less than ten days from today.”

“Yeah.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be right here, waiting for you.” Chloe smiles in encouragement.

Beca looks down at the ticket in her hands, then at Chloe, feeling her eyes glisten. “Thank you.”

Chloe hugs her dearly, “of course, my love.”

And they lie together on their bed, Beca leaving the envelope on the nightstand so she does not forget she has a call to make on the next day.

But Jesse calls her first, wishing for the same thing: to bring Caro, Matthias and Chloe on their travel. Just this time; Beca quickly agrees, already searching for plane tickets on the same flight as theirs.

It is funny to have their roles reversed this time, as Beca hands Chloe the envelope, and Chloe is the surprised one. “I don’t wanna go anywhere without you,” she says.

Once more, Cynthia-Rose stay in charge at the label, and Beca and Chloe land on Fairbanks, Alaska by the night of February 27th. They greet Caro and Jesse at the airport, play a bit with Matthias at the little chalet they are staying, and go to sleep before nine in the night.

For the first time, the weather is sunny when the bridge comes to Beca, and she is looking right at her daughter’s face.

Aurora’s hair is still long and her cheeks still chubby. “You can go now, mommy,” she points somewhere over Beca’s shoulder, “you’ll be safe there, if you go that way.”

Beca gives her daughter the strongest hug, but wakes up before she can turn around.

***

Luck apparently is not on their side on the first day. They leave the chalet around four in the afternoon for their hunt, and return home past ten, freezing and exhausted, because Beca and Jesse did not want to be on the road when it turns midnight.

But as the pointers on the clock go forward, somehow they lose track of the time, and for a minute, forget what they are here for. Caro and Chloe do everything to make them laugh as they play uno and drink wine, because Beca and Jesse just could not sleep.

Caro takes their glasses of wine to refill them at the kitchen, and then exclaims, voice loud and excited, “oh my god, guys! Come see it!”

She rushes to the living room and grabs Matthias, who is still awake, although is so late, and opens the chalet’s front door.

Beca knows what it is before she sees it. And yet, she was not ready for that.

There is a fire close to the lake in front of them. Beca follows Jesse, Chloe, Caro and Matthias closer to the flames so they can warm up, and few people stand around. A couple kissing, a man throwing a baby into the air, a girl playing guitar, a couple laying over a blanket.

Above them, in the most spectacular show of colors Beca has ever seen, Aurora Borealis dances in the sky. She stares at it for a while, mesmerized by such grace, and then takes her phone to take a picture for she is not sure how long it is going to last. And only then she realizes that it is past midnight.

February 29th.

There is that pain again, burning like lava all over Beca’s body.

Four years with her, four years without her.

Four years of no chasing butterflies, no goodnight kisses, no chocolate hidden in Beca’s purse. Of no cheeky smiles and laughs. Of unopened birthday presents. Four years of no sweet singing. Of having her heart smashed when everyone else’s kids get to turn five, or six, or seven.

Most days is so hard to look inside her own heart, but she is watching Aurora, so she does it now. She stares at everything that sits behind her eyes and haunts her in everything she does: not  being sure of what to believe in, when Beca desperately wishes to see her daughter again, is hard. People messaging to say they dreamed about Aurora, is hard. Holding Matthias’ hand and accepting the fact she will never hold Aurora’s again, is hard. Every Mother’s Day, Christmas, birthday, February 29th—every single day—is hard.

Beca looks around her, as a man approaches Chloe, giving her a paper and pen, then at Jesse, a bit away from them, holding his son on his hip, his wife hugging them; there is a lot to be thankful for, but this life is so fucking hard.

Chloe was right, she realizes. Healing—both seen and unseen ways—hurts way more than the wound itself. Losing Aurora have made Beca know what a broken heart really is: a labyrinth of darkness with no one to bring her light. But the world spins, and Beca could not run away from a life without Aurora. She was forced to learn how to be thankful her daughter came, although she could not stay. Her life forevermore divided in a before and after.

She closes her eyes forcefully and sees her daughter’s face, the face of eternity itself—her greatest gift, and her greatest grief—and Aurora smiles at her, blinks dark midnight eyes sweetly up at her in the blinding bright light, just like she did in Beca’s dream the night before. A silent promise that it will be okay. That it is okay.

She remembers growing Aurora inside her body, birthing her, eight years ago, and now the crashing pain of all those years spent longing for her.

A sob escapes her mouth. Beca does not care, although the man who was by Chloe’s side is now walking towards her. He hands her a blank paper, and a pen. “Write down a wish and throw it on the fire. Wishes for Aurora always come true.” He smiles sympathetically and steps away.

But Beca’s wish cannot come true. So instead of writing down a wish, she writes her feelings.

“Being your mommy was the greatest gift of them all, and my world will never be the same without you. You are eight today, but forever four. Thank you for your light, dear Aurora. I will love you for AGES, and I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.”

The man is still waiting for the pen. Beca gives it back just as she hears Jesse’s footsteps approaching her. His eyes are red and he sniffles as he closes his arms around Beca’s body.

He pulls back a while later, but does not step away. They stand by the fire, eyes locked up in the sky as they glow under Aurora’s glow. “We’ll love you forever, our little girl,” he whispers to the infinity.

“Happy birthday, baby,” Beca whispers, voice broken and weak. Jesse gives her a kiss on the forehead before pulling away slowly. Beca smiles up at him, “you’ve got a beautiful family, dude.”

He smiles, looking at where Caro stands with Matthias, before nodding in Chloe’s direction, “don’t let that girl slip away, Becaw.”

“I won’t.”

She watches as Jesse goes back to his family—her past walking away from her. But her future is right here too, her body swinging gently at the edge of the lake that glows with purple and green lights. Enchanted.

Beca throws the folded paper into the fire, hoping her love note will somehow find Aurora, and slowly walks towards Chloe. She does not wipe Beca’s tears away this time, but holds her dearly.

Beca is not sure when she realized Chloe was the one standing at the end of the bridge, the safety she had so desperately been wishing for. But she is thankful for it, and does not question the universe’s mysterious ways as they sit facing the lake, and silently watch as Aurora dances and twirls in the sky. It is magical; beside them, Matthias takes hesitant first steps into his father’s arms, while his mother cheers and claps. She smiles and takes Chloe’s arm, placing it around her body, “I want it all with you someday,” she confesses. And she really does.

She feels Chloe’s breath on neck when she smiles, then a kiss on her neck, “me too.”

“What did you wish for, on your note?” She asks then, turning just so she can see Chloe’s face.

Chloe takes one of her arms from Beca’s middle to take her phone from her pocket. Then she shows Beca a picture of a salmon wall she knows well, with a phone number Beca only realized was written there the day she was moving away.

The world is such a heavily messy gift, which Aurora tried to fix with her glittery rainbow and unicorn stickers. Now, the least Beca can do, is to try and see it as her daughter would have wanted her to—filled with love, wonder and tiny fireflies light—and she smiles between tears, feeling gratitude deep inside her chest, for if it was not for Aurora, she would never have fallen in love with Chloe.

She can hear the smile in Chloe’s voice, “I said ‘thank you.’”