Chapter 226

I stepped into the modest home, the scent of lavender and simmering soup enveloping me, grounding me for the conversation ahead.
The walls were adorned with family photos. With one glance, anyone who looked well enough could see just how each told a story of love, laughter, and shared memories.
The floor creaked negligibly beneath my feet. One could tell that this was an aged home and the lives lived within it.
“Luis Miguel?” I called out, my voice tentative yet hopeful.
I didn’t get a response at my first trial, so I tried again, louder this time.
“Luis Miguel, it’s María José.”
Suddenly, a door creaked open, and Luis Miguel appeared. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. Without a word, he rushed towards me, enveloping me in a tight embrace.
His body trembled against mine, and I could feel the depth of his sorrow. I was caught off-guard about the hug at first but I also melted into it, remembering how we shared the same grief, how we were both the only friends those boys had, I hugged him back.
“I can’t believe they’re gone,” Luis Miguel whispered and his voice was choked with emotion. “Ruben, Gonzalo, Pedro… they were more than friends; they were my brothers.”
I held him tighter, meanwhile, my own tears were about to spill. “I know, Luis. I miss them too. They were incredible people.”
He pulled back slightly, looking into my eyes. “Remember when we all got caught trying to hide a rat in your bag back in High school?”
I chuckled through my tears. “And Pedro denied it to the principal, saying he only thought about and did it in his dreams.”
Luis Miguel smiled faintly. That was the first sign of light on his grief-stricken face. “They always had each other’s backs. We all did.”
He suddenly collapsed to the floor, burying his head into his knees. “It hurts so much, María José. I don’t know how to go on without them.”
I knelt beside him, placing a comforting hand on his back. “We’ll get through this together. They would want us to live, to honor their memories by continuing the bond we all shared.”
He looked up at me and I could see the pain and gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you for being here.”
We sat in silence for a while, the grief we both shared heavy in our hearts. The only audible sounds were the occasional creak of the house and the distant chirping of birds outside.
After some time, Luis Miguel stood up, offering me a hand. “Come on, let’s sit in the garden. They always loved it out there.”
We walked outside, watching as the morning sun casts a warm glow over the neatly tended plants. The scent of jasmine filled the air, and the gentle rustling of leaves provided a soothing backdrop.
As we sat on the bench, Luis Miguel turned to me. “Do you remember the time Ruben tried to teach us all how to dance the traditional pack dance?”
I laughed, the memory vivid. “He ended up tripping over his own feet and taking Gonzalo down with him.”
Luis Miguel chuckled as a genuine smile spread across his face. “Pedro tried to save them but ended up in the pile too. We were all a mess.”
I could remember all of those memories from high school like they happened yesterday.
We sat in comfortable silence, reminiscing about the good times, and allowing the memories to bring a semblance of peace to our aching hearts.
After a while, Luis Miguel spoke again, but his tone was more resolute. “I need to be strong, for them. They wouldn’t want me to wallow in sorrow.”
I nodded, placing a hand on his. “And I’m here to help you through it.”
He looked at me, his eyes shining with appreciation which was strange considering his history. “Thank you, María José. Your presence means more than words can express.”
We sat together, the sun rising higher in the sky. Despite the pain, we knew that together, we could honor our friends’ memories and find a way to heal.
The breeze in the garden was softer than I expected for a day like this. It rustled through the leaves, as if nature herself was trying to be gentle with us.
Luis Miguel sat beside me, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees. His fingers twisted together, knuckles white, as he stared blankly at the overgrown hedge across the path. I didn’t speak right away. Sometimes silence said more than any well-meaning words could.
Then he spoke in a low tone like the words were too heavy to carry.
“Do you know the state they found their bodies in?”
I turned my head sharply, my stomach knotting. The air changed. The sweetness of jasmine turned sour in my nose. His voice wasn’t just sad now. It was dark, trembling.
I looked at him and saw his eyes glistening with unshed tears, his lips narrowly parted like he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear an answer.
The answer was gore. Nothing to write home about.
I paused but nodded. “I… heard.”
Luis Miguel exhaled. It was a shudder. And then a sob clawed out of him like it had been trying to escape since morning.
It did but I guess it wasn’t enough.
He slammed his fist against his knee. “Who could do that? Who—who does that to twenty-year-old boys who were just… just mischievous and stupid and alive?”
His voice cracked and kept breaking as he spoke. It was like hearing someone scream underwater; muted but so raw it shook me.
I didn’t know what to say. My own chest tightened, and the pain I’d been keeping at bay cracked through.
“It was horrible,” I whispered.
“Horrible?” he repeated bitterly. “María, they didn’t just shoot them or something… They mutilated them. Ruben’s fingers were broken backward like someone wanted him to beg before he died. Gonzalo’s throat was torn open. Pedro His voice choked. “Pedro didn’t even have a face left.”
I covered my mouth with both hands as if that would keep the cry in. But it didn’t. It slipped through my fingers so warm and sharp, and I wept.
“They didn’t deserve that,” I gasped, wiping my cheeks with my sleeves. “Even if they were reckless. Even if they were idiots sometimes… they didn’t deserve to die like that.”
“No, they didn’t,” Luis Miguel whispered, staring at the ground. “And now I just keep thinking—what if I’d been with them? Would I have died too? Would they still have been found like that? Or would I have… done something?”
I reached over and grabbed his hand. It was cold and tense in mine. “You don’t get to blame yourself. They were ambushed, Luis. Nobody could’ve predicted that.” ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ.net
“But why them?” he rasped. “They weren’t saints, no, but they were good. They were mine. Ruben still slept with a light on because he was afraid of the dark—he just never admitted it. Gonzalo cried during cheesy romance movies. Pedro gave money to stray kids on the street even when he was broke. And now they’re just—just pieces..”