Page 77 of Back to You
She was buried under six feet of cold, damp earth, wearing the delicate gold necklace she never took off—the one with myinitials and my father’s, M & L, so we would always be close to her heart. That’s where she was, not here, and definitely not watching.
No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t reach her, and that thought twisted in my stomach like something sharp, cutting deeper with every breath. So I kept moving.
I refilled coffee cups, cleared empty plates, and wiped down tables that didn’t need wiping. I had to keep my hands busy, and keep my feet moving, because if I stopped, even for a second, I’d break. I wasn’t ready for that.
So I moved.
And moved.
And moved.
Sebastian stood near the counter, watching me, his gaze was heavy, full of something I couldn’t name. Not pity, not sympathy, no…It was something else, something more careful, more knowing, and I felt it every time I turned my back.
I tried to ignore it, until suddenly, he was right beside me. He was close enough that I could feel the warmth of his body, even in the crowded bakery.
"You haven’t eaten," he murmured.
I blinked, startled by how close he was, and how quiet his voice had gotten. I turned slightly, meeting his gaze for the first time all day. "What?"
His brow creased slightly, like he knew I had heard him but wasn’t ready to acknowledge it. "You haven’t eaten anything all day," he repeated. Steady. Unshaken. He held out a plate, a small pastelillo, flaky and golden, and still warm.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight; this was one of my favorites. My mother used to make them every Sunday night. The memory landed like a weight in my chest. I shook my head, too fast, too sharp. "I’m not hungry."
Sebastian didn’t move. His jaw tightened slightly. "Mariana…"
His voice was too soft and too careful. He already knew I was unraveling and was trying not to spook me. I didn’t want that; I didn’t want him treating me like I was delicate, like I was something breakable.
I squared my shoulders, exhaling hard through my nose. "Sebastian, I said I’m not hungry."
A long silence stretched between us. For a second, he didn’t move. Then, slowly, carefully, he set the plate down beside me, and walked away. He didn’t argue. He didn’t try again. He just… left.
Something about that felt worse.
CHAPTER 34
Mariana
The bakery reopened three weeks after the funeral. It had been twenty-three days since my mother died.
Twenty-three days of waking up and feeling like I was slipping further and further away from myself. Twenty-three days of pretending, of forcing myself out of bed.
Now here I am, standing behind the bakery counter and plastering on a careful, distant smile for customers who didn’t know how to look at me anymore.
I’m keeping my hands moving, kneading dough, measuring sugar, wiping down counters that weren’t dirty, doing anything to avoid the weight of the grief pressing against my ribs.
I told myself that I just needed time. Every morning, I repeated it like a mantra, like a prayer, like something I could will into being if I said it enough.
"Just give it time, Mariana."
"Time will soften the edges."
"Time will help."
But every morning, I woke up feeling like I was sinking deeper. It was as if the world had tilted slightly off its axis, just enough to throw everything off balance. I was walking through a space that had once belonged to me, but no longer fit.
And worst of all, I could feel myself slipping away. Sebastian knew it too. He called and texted every day, and always made sure to check in.
At first, I answered, always keeping my voice light and neutral, giving him short, clipped responses.
