Chapter 7
Aya
The morning sun poured through the windows, painting the living room gold. My suitcases were half-packed, my passport and immigration documents were on the table, and yet I could barely focus. I could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator, the soft ticking of the wall clock, the occasional creak from the floorboards—all background noises I normally ignored, but today they felt louder, almost like they were counting down the minutes until I left.
"Aya! Wake up! Don't tell me you're going to sulk your way through the whole goodbye," Atasha shouted, barging in with Matt behind her. She looked impossibly energetic, bouncing on the balls of her feet like someone who had slept a full eight hours and thought it wasn't nearly enough.
"Sulking? Me?" I groaned, rubbing my eyes. "I'm not sulking, I'm… emotionally prepared." My voice sounded small even to me, like a whisper trying to hold back the weight of all the goodbyes I knew were coming.
"You look terrified," Atasha said, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Terrified people don't call it 'emotionally prepared.'"
From the hallway, Andre appeared, holding Kai upside down like a plush toy. "Aya! You're really leaving us! How can you do this to your poor nephew?" Kai laughed and kicked at Andre, trying to free himself, little squeals of delight mixing with protest.
"Don't exaggerate, brother," I said, trying to smile. But my stomach tightened anyway. I could feel it fluttering in a nervous rhythm, a subtle reminder that even three months could feel much longer when the people you loved were all in one place, waving and shouting and crowding around you.
Mark strolled in behind them, Sam trailing with Alexa clinging to her arm. "Mom says hi," Mark muttered, mostly to avoid being pulled into Atasha's verbal assault.
Alexa squealed, flinging herself at me. "Tita Aya! Don't forget me!" I scooped her up and swung her gently. She giggled and clutched my neck, tiny fingers tightening around my shirt. "I won't," I whispered, planting a soft kiss on her temple.
Nathan arrived next, twins Yuri and Yasmin pulling at his hands, already arguing about who got to sit closest to me in the car. "Aya, don't forget to take care of yourself," he said quietly. "And… don't forget us."
I laughed softly. "I could never forget you guys. C'mon! This won't be forever." Three months will feel like a snap, for sure. I tried to picture them here when I returned. Their faces, their voices, and their laughter.
Mom appeared in the doorway, calm, but her eyes glimmered with emotion. "Aya, have you really packed everything?"
"Yes, Mom," I said quickly, though my heart thumped. "Everything I need."
"You've always been stubborn," Mom said, voice softening. "And I suppose this is why. You need this." She pressed a hand to my cheek for a fleeting second, the warmth of her touch lingering longer than the gesture itself.
At that moment, Dad stepped into the room, holding a cup of coffee and a half-eaten slice of toast. "Morning chaos seems extra chaotic today," he said, glancing around at the crowd of siblings. The sunlight caught his eyes, making them shine a little brighter, a little sharper.
"I know, right?" Atasha said, pointing at Kai, who was now trying to climb onto the couch like a small, determined mountain goat.
Dad smiled at me. "You excited?" he asked quietly, lowering his voice so only I could hear.
"A little… mostly nervous," I admitted, my fingers curling around the handle of my suitcase.
He leaned closer, a hand brushing my shoulder. "It's normal. But you'll be fine. Three months isn't forever. Remember, every day is temporary, and every day you'll learn something new."
I nodded, feeling comforted by his presence. Dad always had a way of making things feel manageable, like he could fold the world neatly and hand it back to me.
Marco's sister, Lara, peeked in from the hall. "Is this guy seriously letting her go without a proper interrogation?" she teased, pointing at Marco.
Marco gave her a small smile. "I've got strict orders: guide and protect, no lectures."
Atasha elbowed me. "Guide? He's Aya's senior at work! How's he supposed to survive a family like this?"
Andre laughed. "Or maybe he's secretly plotting to steal her away."
"Stop!" I exclaimed, rolling my eyes. "It's not like that!"
Dad chuckled softly from the side, shaking his head. "This is why I taught you to stand your ground, Aya." His tone carried the weight of years of watching me navigate life, protective, proud, yet knowing I could handle myself.
The morning unfolded in waves of teasing, laughter, and chatter. Alexa refused to leave my side, Yuri and Yasmin alternated between squabbling and clinging to me, Mark and Sam quietly ensured everyone stayed out of trouble, and Nathan and Andre alternated between subtle shots and heartfelt advice. Dad moved between us, quietly making sure breakfast was ready, that everyone had a drink, and slipping small smiles at me whenever I looked his way. He refilled Kai's juice glass, straightened a crooked chair, adjusted a stray blanket on the couch, and still found a way to glance at me, just to check I was steady.
Mom quietly brought over a tray of breakfast—pan de sal, scrambled eggs, and steaming hot coffee. "Eat, Aya. You're going to need your energy," she said.
I sat down, taking a bite, surrounded by everyone's voices—the chaos, the warmth, the love. Marco sat beside me, hand brushing mine for just a second. His calm presence was the anchor amid the storm. Dad slid my favorite mug of coffee across to me, lingering as if he could push the moment of goodbye further into eternity.
"You'll survive them, right?" Marco murmured quietly.
I laughed, shaking my head. "Barely. But I wouldn't trade this for anything."
Dad leaned back in his chair, watching me with a small, proud smile. "Three months," he said softly. "You'll be back before we've really noticed you're gone."
I smiled at him. "I know, Dad. I know."
And in that moment, amid the laughter, teasing, and noise, I realized that leaving didn't mean losing them. Every hug, every joke, every playful scold was something I'd carry with me, tucked safely into my heart for the journey ahead.
The driveway was a flurry of last-minute hugs and shouted reminders. Lara slid into the passenger seat of Marco's van, clipboard in hand, like she was running the mission herself. "Don't crash," she said, elbowing Marco lightly.
"I'll try," Marco replied dryly, eyes on the road. "But with this crew, I can't promise nothing chaotic won't happen."
Atasha leaned back in the rear seat, tossing her bag onto the floor. Matt sat beside her, pretending to scroll on his phone but clearly trying to keep a straight face. "Aya, are you sure you've got everything? Passport? Tickets? Snacks?" Atasha's rapid-fire questions barely gave me a chance to answer.
"I think so," I said, adjusting my suitcase at my feet. "Lara, you're driving the car back later, right?"
Dad stepped closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You're really ready for this, huh?"
"Yes, Dad," I said, squeezing his hand. "I am."
He gave me a firm nod. "Good. Go make us proud. And remember…we'll be here when you come back. Every single one of us."
The car rolled onto the street, familiar houses flashing past. I pressed my forehead lightly against the window, already missing the quiet hum of home. The city seemed smaller from this perspective, every corner loaded with memories I wasn't sure I could carry fast enough. Dad waved from the driveway, a small grin on his face, making sure to hold the image of us both in his eyes.
"So," Marco started, glancing at me in the rearview mirror, "nervous?"
"A little," I admitted. "Excited too. And… sad, I guess. Leaving feels heavier than I thought."
Atasha snorted from behind me. "Heavy? That's just guilt talking. You'll be fine. Trust me. Matt and I are here to cheer you on—and to make sure Aya doesn't cry in public."
"Yeah," Matt added, smirking. "I'm emotionally prepared for a full meltdown at the airport."
I shook my head, smiling despite myself. Lara elbowed me lightly. "Better keep it together. Marco doesn't negotiate with emotional passengers."
"I'll try," I said. But as we drove on, the warmth of their voices, the teasing, and the steady presence of Marco at the wheel—it all wrapped around me like a safety net. Maybe leaving home wasn't about losing everyone. Maybe it was about carrying them with me, even if I couldn't hug them every minute. Dad's wave from the driveway stayed in my mind, a quiet anchor to remind me where I came from.
As we approached the airport, the familiar chaos of drop-off lanes surrounded us. Families were saying hurried goodbyes, luggage wheels squeaked, and distant announcements echoed. I gripped my suitcase handle, the reality of leaving finally pressing in.
Dad leaned forward in his seat one last time. "Aya… remember, no matter what happens there, this is only three months. We'll see each other soon."
"I know, Dad," I whispered, my throat tight. "I'll be careful. And I'll call."
He squeezed my hand, and for a brief moment, I wanted to stay. But life was moving forward, and so was I.
We pulled up to the curb, and I began lifting my suitcase. Atasha, Matt, Lara, and the rest scrambled to help, laughter and teasing still filling the air. Marco opened the rear door, glancing briefly at the car behind us.
I hugged everyone one last time, pressing them into me like I could memorize the warmth of their bodies. I stepped toward the van, suitcase in hand, ready to leave.
Then, a voice cut through the noise:
"AYA! WAIT!"
My head snapped around. The tears I'd been holding back all morning slipped past, uninvited, hot and fast. My chest tightened, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to the shouting figure in the crowd.
I froze, suitcase half-lifted, heart pounding, caught between leaving and turning back.