Because eight years ago, I had been violently kicked down from those very clouds, straight into hell.
And the hands that pushed me belonged to my newlywed wife and to my family.
I lit a cigarette and took a long drag.
Meanwhile, Luis was wiping down the tables. When he glanced up at me, his brows knit together with concern.
“Boss, your coughing’s getting worse,” he said. “You should smoke less.”
My voice came out hoarse. “I can’t quit.”
He let out a quiet sigh and turned back to his work, waving the feather duster around the shop.
After a moment, he spoke again.
“With the New Year coming up, I’m heading back home in a couple of days. Figured I’d clean the place up properly first.”
As he slid the duster under the bed, it struck something solid.
He paused, bent down, and pulled out a small, dust-covered box.
When he opened it, a ring lay inside. Even buried under layers of grime, it still caught the light.
“Boss… this looks expensive,” Luis said carefully as he held it up. “You should keep it safe.”
He handed the box to me. The instant my fingertips brushed the edge, I jerked my hand back, as if I had been burned.
Eight years ago, I had placed that ring on Celeste’s finger myself.