CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

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𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐎𝐧𝐞: 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥

     Loss— she pulled away, a clump of hair follows. Or was it remorse? Her cries had been muffled, her eyes had gone dry and she screamed until her voice was hoarse. Like sandpaper, it scratches her throat leaving it coarse. And what if she had already turned into a corpse before death itself? She clawed at her head, more and more, her strands piling up on the floor. What was she willing to live for? At what cost? She was no force to be reckoned with, by a single touch, she could crumble.

    "Leonora?" She didn't turn, only emitting the bitterest of laughs; dry, humorless. "I'm losing myself, Cisco." He approached her small body, brushing what little she had left of her hair with his fingers. Through her shaky breath, she rasped, "Just... finish the job."

     Sitting her down right in front of their bathroom mirror, he tucked her stray locks behind her ear. He gave her reflection a comforting smile but her empty gaze was the only thing that greeted him. Francisco snipped her hair short before gliding the razor over her scalp.

     He softly kissed her now bare head. "Am I still beautiful?" She asked. She already knew her answer— searching the silence of her soul for solace, nothing mattered anymore, it was a matter of accepting absence. 

    Francisco smoothened her crinkled blouse; not even the intensity of the sun could rival the fondness in his eyes. "Love, you're beauty does not end with what you have lost." She was his Leonora and in a world where everything constantly changes; that for sure was permanent.

     "So yes, you are as enchanting as the moment I first laid eyes on you."

     The fact remains even a year later.

     Francisco strummed the ukulele, his fingers slipping between the strings. Despite the occasional muted sounds, the tune was pleasant. "You're getting better, papa." Y/N commented before munching on the rest of her pandesal. Francisco jovially chirped, "Want me to teach you?" She shook off the crumbs on her hand before wearing her shoes. "Maybe at another time, I got to go."

     His playing stopped; his lower lip curling into a pout. "Why does my daughter have to be a workaholic?" It has been a couple of days and she was itching to get back to the garden as soon as she could. "I grew bored of winning card games, wonder why?" Her only source of entertainment and she couldn't have a better opponent. Francisco shook his head, strumming a chord, "Hate the game, not the player."

    "Anyways, do I look okay?" She opened her arms, giving him a little spin for her outfit. Francisco smiled— her hair was now half an inch below her shoulder and she put it up in a half-ponytail. "Different but nice." And there it was, the apple of her cheeks rose in a smile. She looked better than ever. 

     The garden was taking shape, the grass was greener and the mulch was spread evenly on the flowerbeds. Y/N had informed Dolores to tell Luisa to come by with some shrubs for her to transplant. Admittedly, it was weird one-sidedly talking to someone when they weren't in the same place, she just hoped Dolores heard her through all the noise.

     After a few minutes of plucking crabgrass, she saw a pair of dark blue shoes standing right where she needed to remove a patch. Her eyes traveled upwards, Luisa towered over her crouched figure, blocking the sunlight. "Is this all you need?" She laid the bushes, picking out a variety of flowers.

    Y/N peeped behind Luisa, searching for a certain chameleon. She tried to mask her disappointment when she didn't find him. "Actually, would it be okay if you stay for a bit? There are some dead trees that needed to be removed." Luisa nodded, dusting her hands.

     One by one, Luisa hauled the trees with ease. Y/N unfastened the tarp tied around the bushes' roots. She took her watering can and sprinkled it over the flowerbed before planting the shrubs on the hole she had dug up. "You know, this tree used to be Isabela's favorite," Luisa said, knocking on its trunk— it was the very tree placed in the middle, "I'll pluck it out last, it's a big fella after all."

     "What did it look like before?" She watched Luisa go over to a smaller tree while she buried the roots of the shrubs with dirt. "Its trunk was like colors rained on it, the kids liked to believe that Isabela caught a rainbow and grew a tree with it." Luisa smiled, it was a fond distant memory. "It was hard to preserve and you know the rest." It was a solemn story.

     Y/N finished up with the shrubs, standing back and admiring her work. However, her back hit something soft and her sight was covered. "Guess who?" She could already tell him by smell alone; lemongrass. She chuckled, lowering the hands that covered her eyes, "I'm guessing this is mi querido?" 

     Camilo coughs butterflies whenever she's around but hearing those very words slip past her lips had left him defenseless. She never did let go of his hands, instead, she intertwined their fingers together. Y/N turned around with a smile, the blush of her cheeks matching the rosiness of his own.

     "Your hair." His pupils dilated and his breath got caught in his throat. Her eyes averted, almost bashful, "Thought I'd skip trimming, something nice for a change." Camilo couldn't stop the grin on his face; he removed the hair tie on his wrist, bunching his curls up in a ponytail. "Think we'd look cute matching like this?" He teased causing her to snort.

     Luisa dropped another tree on her growing pile, "Thought you'd never show up." She commented, walking over the two. Camilo puffed, "I was thinking the same thing, babysitting took a lot longer than usual." Although he didn't really mind, Cecilia's baby sister was quite an angel.

     "I'm about to remove the last tree, do you guys want to look at it before I do?" Luisa beckoned the two to follow her.  The tree was taller than Y/N initially imagined now that she's closer— it was a reminder that she was a small part of the world. She inspects closely; it still has its colours although one had to search hard enough to notice.

    Her palm rest on its trunk, it had a ghostly warmth to it. Isabela must have loved this tree dearly; it was extraordinary even in its lowest form. Somehow, the beauty of it was that it made a lot of children smile during its short time. 

     "It was once beautiful." She traced over the colored streaks, a melancholic proof of what it used to be. Camilo felt the marks on the wood with his fingertips, "And it still is."

     Later that day, Luisa went to a wood carver. Now waiting in front of Isabela's door was a mini replica of the tree.

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