Page 7 of The Sound of Forever
Julianna,
It’s been too long since we’ve talked, and I know that’s my fault. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so greedy, taking everything for myself. I just wanted to keep Mom alive somehow, and I felt like you and Oscar didn’t need her as much as I did. If I had shared, maybe things would’ve been different. But the past is the past, isn’t it?
I hope you’re doing well—truly. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. About us. There’s so much I wish I could say in person, but I guess I ran out of time. We never think about how much time we have until it’s gone.
Now, I have to say goodbye.
Take care of Rayne. She’s my everything, Julianna. She’s the best thing I’ve ever done, and I trust you’ll love her the way she deserves.
Elena
My heart stutters,the words hitting me with the force of a sledgehammer.Take care of Rayne.A child I’ve never met. A niece I didn’t know existed until today.
Elena’s name at the bottom of the letter blurs as tears fill my eyes. My fingers tremble, and the letter falls to the counter as memories rush in.
The last time we spoke, her words sliced through me, raw and furious. She accused me of abandoning her when she needed me most. Maybe she was right. But I couldn’t ignore the bitterness that had taken root since Mom died—the way she clung to every possession, every memory, as if hoarding them could somehow reverse the inevitable. Back then, it felt like I was losing Mom all over again. And the way she treated Oscar and me, like we didn’t matter? That cut the deepest.
Our family was never simple. She’s Mom’s first daughter, the one who never knew her father. Dad began dating Mom when Elena was five. By the next year, they were married, Oscar was born, and a few years after that, I arrived. But even as a kid, I knew the truth: she was the storm that unraveled it all. She was the reason our parents’ marriage crumbled, why Dad packed his things and left one day without a word—without ever looking back.
The kettle’s shrill whistle snaps me out of my thoughts, and I flinch, my hand instinctively pressing to my chest as if I can quiet the turmoil within. I fold the letter carefully, almost reverently, and slip it back into the envelope.
For a moment, I stand frozen in the middle of the kitchen. The grief feels too big, too jagged to process all at once. I should make the tea. I should call Oscar. I should . . .
But the weight of everything presses in, and instead, I sink to the floor, my back against the cabinets. The tears come hard and fast, the kind of crying that feels like it will never stop. My chest heaves with sobs as years of anger and regret pour out of me, mixing with the raw ache of losing her for good.
Elena is gone.
And I wasn’t ready.
ChapterFourteen
Julianna
Every timeI step into a hospital, I can’t help but wonder why they haven’t found a way to replace the overpowering scent of disinfectant with something softer—flowers, fresh air . . .anything. Surely, a touch of nature would be better for healing than the sterile bite of chlorine and chemicals. Or maybe it’s just my way of avoiding what’s coming. My way of trying not to face the inevitable—trying to distract myself for just a moment longer.
I walk through the endless corridors of Seattle Memorial, my shoes squeaking faintly against the polished floors. The fluorescent lights above cast everything in a harsh, sterile glow. My reflection in the polished elevator doors stares back at me—tired, unkempt, fraying at the edges.
My steps falter as I reach the hallway. The door looms ahead—plain, white, and unassuming, yet it feels like it holds the power to change everything. Behind it lies a moment that will reshape my life into something unfamiliar, something I never asked for and don’t know how to navigate.
My hand hovers over the knob, trembling with hesitation. I clench it into a fist and press it against my side, as if pinning it there might keep me grounded. Breathing feels impossible, my throat constricted, lungs refusing to expand. The nurse had explained something earlier—procedure, protocol—but her words had dissolved into meaningless noise. All I hear now is the frantic drumbeat of my pulse.
Breathe, Julianna. Just breathe.
I glance down at myself. Yoga pants, scuffed shoes, and an oversized sweater I grabbed from the floor in my rush out the door. The fabric hangs loose on my frame, but it still feels suffocating, as though the walls themselves are closing in.
The door opens before I can make a decision, and I’m face-to-face with a man I’ve never met. His scrubs are pristine, his expression carefully controlled. Professional sympathy radiates from him, the kind that’s practiced, distant, and routine.
“Ms. Valencia?” His voice is calm but firm, a question softened by pity. “I’m Dr. Gabriel Decker. Your sister’s physician.”
My throat tightens. I can barely manage a nod as I swallow against the lump rising painfully fast.
“We’ve done everything we could,” he says, the words gentle but unforgiving. “It’s only a matter of time now.”
He steps aside, and I move past him, my legs stiff and uncooperative. The room is impossibly small, the space swallowed up by machines that hum and beep with an almost cruel indifference.
And then I see her.
Elena lies motionless on the bed, her face unnaturally pale, her chest eerily still. The ventilator hisses in its rhythmic cadence, the only sound assuring she’s still here, suspended between this world and whatever comes next. My gaze locks on her, willing her to move, to breathe, to wake.
