Araceli was rooted to the spot as she watched them drive out of the parking lot. Her eyes reddened, with tears dripping like a cascade.
"Araceli?"
Francisco tugged her arm, snapping his fingers at her eyes, but she didn't flinch.
He could see the tears as they flow helplessly on her cheeks, wetting her cherry-painted lips.
Her tears caused tremors through his spine, making him instantly pull her closer for a hug.
He didn't know what else he could do.
Francisco didn't ask what had happened, to him, it wasn't important. He cared more about her state of mind, and if she ever deems him worthy to share her problems, he was prepared to lend her his ears and whatever help she might need.
Araceli's frame shuddered, her head laid on Francisco's broad chest as she wails remorsefully.
The past twelve years she spent, making bad choices with hopes to find Franco, but it wasn't worth it.
