Chapter 4: The Birthday Goodbye

Derek stood in the yard, fists clenched, yelling at the stars. The rest of us slipped inside, locking the doors behind us.

Later, I learned that’s how the local cops handled things.

Dad explained it to me, his voice low. "They don’t want trouble. Not for something like this."

They used to send people back right away.

Back when the rules were stricter, nobody asked questions. Folks just disappeared, and everyone pretended not to notice.

Those folks just wanted work and a hot meal.

It was always the same—hungry faces, tired eyes, people desperate for a chance. The deputies saw it every day.

They’d beg not to be sent back, but the cops had their job.

Sometimes you could hear them pleading, promising to work hard, to stay out of trouble. The deputies just looked away.

But when they handed people over, sometimes the border patrol on the other side would just pull out a gun, and that was it.

Rumors spread fast in a town like ours. Stories about what happened on the other side—shots in the night, bodies in the river. The deputies pretended not to hear, but it haunted them.

It was too much for the deputies to handle.

They weren’t heartless. Most of them had family who’d come from somewhere else. They did what they could, within the rules.

Because here, wanting a full meal isn’t a crime.

That’s what Dad always said. People are just people, hungry and tired, looking for a place to belong.

So over time, they came up with an unspoken rule.

Nobody talked about it, but everyone knew. If you kept your head down, didn’t cause trouble, you could stay—at least for a while.

If someone called in a complaint, unless it was a real criminal, they’d drag their feet.

Paperwork got lost, calls went unanswered, visits were delayed. It was a quiet way to help, without breaking the law.

Someone from the neighborhood would always warn us to hide.

A knock on the door, a text message, a neighbor waving from across the street—it was a network of silent allies.

If the cops didn’t find anyone, they’d just say, "We’ll check again next time."

They’d tip their hat, wink, and walk away, leaving everyone a little safer for another day.

It was a quiet act of kindness. A small rebellion, hidden in plain sight. Made me proud to be from this town, even if everything else felt broken.

It wasn’t until evening that Dad brought Bella back.

He slipped her in through the back door, her face pale and eyes wide. She clung to me, shaking, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

She was terrified, shaking in my arms. I stroked her hair, whispering that she was safe.

I held her close, rocking her gently. I whispered promises I wasn’t sure I could keep, telling her over and over that she was safe, that I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.

But I was panicking too, realizing how close I’d come to losing her. I hugged her, crying into her ear, telling her I loved her.

Tears streamed down my face, my voice breaking. I’d never felt so helpless, so desperate. I squeezed her tighter, afraid to let go.

She fumbled with her phone, hands shaking. When she heard my words, she looked at me—really looked.

Her hands trembled as she typed, her eyes searching mine. The phone glowed between us, casting shadows on the wall.

Her face was still bruised.

The sight of it made my blood boil. I wanted to fix everything, to erase the pain, but all I could do was hold her.

She spoke softly.

Her voice was barely a whisper, but it was full of emotion. I leaned in, trying to catch every word.

I didn’t understand her language.

The sounds were foreign, but the meaning was clear in her eyes. She reached for my hand, squeezing it tight.

When she kissed me, the app played a robotic voice: "I love you too. I’m scared to leave you."

The words echoed in the quiet room, tinny and awkward, but they meant everything. I pulled her closer, my heart pounding.

Something inside me exploded.

All the fear and pain melted away, replaced by hope and love. I kissed her, clumsy and desperate, and she kissed me back, tears streaming down her cheeks.

We hugged and kissed, awkward and desperate.

Our hands tangled, our breaths mingled. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. We clung to each other like we were the only two people left in the world.

Girls really do taste sweet.

Her lips were soft, her skin warm. I memorized every detail, every sound, every sigh.

My heart thudded so hard I could barely breathe. I slipped my hand under Bella’s shirt, caressing her back, feeling her heart race too.

She shivered, but didn’t pull away. My fingers traced the curve of her spine, the delicate bones beneath her skin. I felt her trust, her hope, her love.

My fingertips traced her delicate spine, feeling her joy and nerves.

She trembled, but her eyes shone with happiness. I kissed her again, gentle and slow, promising her everything I had.

That night, we finally became husband and wife, even though in her country, this was a crime.

We fell asleep tangled together, the world outside forgotten. For the first time, I felt whole. I knew we’d crossed a line, but I didn’t care. She was mine, and I was hers.

With Bella, the local deputy became my biggest ally.

Officer Carter started dropping by more often, sometimes just to chat, sometimes to check on us. He always had a smile, a wink, a word of warning if trouble was coming.

His name was Officer Carter. I added him on Facebook Messenger.

I sent him friend requests, messages, even silly memes. He never replied, but he always waved when he saw me in town.

Officer Carter never replied to my messages.

He kept things professional, never leaving a digital trail. But in person, he always had my back.

But to thank him, I brought him a pack of Marlboros every day, leaving it at the station window.

It became our little ritual. I’d drop off a pack, he’d nod in thanks, and we’d both pretend it was nothing.

He always left money for me and told me to take it back.

He didn’t want to owe anyone, didn’t want to get in trouble. I always slipped the cash back into his desk drawer when he wasn’t looking.

But one day, he leaned back in his chair, reading the paper, and said, "One pack’s not enough—next time, bring two, I’ll pay you."

He grinned, flipping through the sports section. I laughed, the tension between us finally breaking.

I had to laugh.

It felt good, sharing a joke, even in the middle of all the fear and uncertainty. For a moment, things felt normal.

I went from giving gifts to running errands, but I didn’t mind.

It was a small price to pay for peace of mind. Officer Carter was more than a cop—he was a friend, an ally, someone who understood.

With Officer Carter keeping watch, sometimes we’d sneak out for a walk. The river breeze felt good—almost normal.

We’d stroll along the levee, her hand in mine, the wind tugging at her hair. Sometimes we’d sit on the old dock, our feet dangling over the water, watching the sunset paint the sky.

Sometimes she’d look across the river, but she’d always end up snuggling in my arms, learning English with me.

She’d stare at the far shore, her eyes distant, but then she’d turn to me, her smile bright and real. We practiced words together, laughing at our mistakes, building a language all our own.

To my family, I was always the guy who couldn’t get a date.

They used to joke about it at every holiday, teasing me about being the last bachelor. Now, they bragged about Bella, showing her picture to anyone who’d listen.

But now, everyone envied me, because Bella was beautiful and capable. After we had our daughter, I was the happiest man alive.

She brought our daughter home from the hospital wrapped in a pink blanket, her eyes shining with pride. I held them both, overwhelmed with gratitude. My life had never felt so full.

Of course, I got reported a lot.

It became a running joke—every time things were going well, someone would try to ruin it. I learned to keep my guard up, to listen for warning signs.

It was always Derek.

He never let go of his grudge, always looking for a way to hurt us. His jealousy was poison, seeping into everything.

The happier I got, the more he hated me.

He’d glare at us from across the street, muttering under his breath. I tried to ignore him, but it wasn’t easy.

Luckily, there was Officer Carter. Every time, he’d come slow, giving me time to hide Bella.

He’d call ahead, his voice casual: “Just checking in, might swing by later.” I knew what it meant. Bella would slip out the back, our daughter in tow, and I’d pretend not to know a thing.

I never thought my happiness would end.

I started to believe we were untouchable, that nothing could break us. I should have known better.

That day was my daughter’s first day of kindergarten. We were a mess, trying to get her ready.

The house was chaos—lunchboxes, lost shoes, Bella chasing our daughter around the kitchen, both of them laughing and crying at the same time.

Our daughter’s face crumpled, tears streaming down. Bella tried to be stern, but her voice wobbled. It was the first time I’d seen her so flustered.

My daughter cried harder, saying she didn’t want that.

She wrapped her arms around Bella’s waist, sobbing. I knelt down, trying to calm her, promising everything would be okay.

I calmed her down, promising her birthday cake.

I whispered that if she was brave, we’d have cake that night, with extra frosting. She sniffled, eyes wide with hope.

She finally let go. We left her at school, watching her cry for half an hour.

Bella stood at the classroom door, tears in her eyes, waving until our daughter disappeared inside. We watched through the window, hearts breaking.

Suddenly, I got a Facebook call from Officer Carter.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, the screen lighting up with his name. My stomach dropped.

He asked if I could grab a drink with him at noon.

His voice was flat, tired. He never called me first. I knew something was wrong.

I froze.

The world seemed to stop. I stared at the phone, unable to breathe.

I had a bad feeling.

The kind that crawls up your spine and settles in your gut. I tried to shake it off, but it wouldn’t leave.

Officer Carter never called me first, and I’d heard deputies weren’t supposed to drink at lunch.

It was against the rules, even for small-town cops. The fact that he’d broken protocol made my skin crawl.

My anxiety spiked. I tried calling Bella, but she didn’t answer.

I dialed her number over and over, each ring making my heart pound harder. No answer. I texted, begged, prayed.

On the way home, we kept trying, but nothing.

Dad drove, his knuckles white on the wheel. We didn’t speak. The silence was suffocating.

When we got home, she was gone.

The house was empty, our daughter’s shoes by the door, Bella’s purse on the table. I tore through every room, calling her name, but she was nowhere to be found.

I grew frantic and hurried to the bar Officer Carter mentioned. My skin itched with hives, red rashes spreading. I scratched until my skin was raw, but I couldn’t calm down.

I stumbled into the bar, barely able to see straight. My hands shook so bad I could barely hold my phone. The bartender gave me a worried look, but I ignored him. I must have looked like hell.

Officer Carter arrived.

He walked in, his uniform rumpled, eyes bloodshot. He slid onto the stool next to me, his face grave.

I asked him why he suddenly wanted to meet.

My voice was barely a whisper. I was afraid to hear the answer.

He sat down, poured a shot of whiskey, and said he was on forced leave—his boss made him take time off.

He downed the shot in one gulp, his hands shaking. "They said I was too close to the case," he muttered. "Had to step back."

I knew something was wrong. I wanted to speak, but my throat closed up.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My mind raced, searching for a way out, a way to fix this.

Officer Carter knocked back his drink.

He poured another, his hands trembling. The bar was quiet, the only sound the clink of glass on wood.

He finally spoke, his voice thick with something like regret. "I’m sorry. She’s been picked up."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I doubled over, breathless, my heart shattering.

My mind went blank.

I stared at the floor, unable to process what he’d said. The world spun, colors blurring at the edges.

This time, Derek hadn’t called the cops.

Officer Carter explained, his voice flat. Derek waited until we dropped our daughter off at school, then broke in and dragged Bella to the station himself.

He waited until we dropped our daughter off at school, then broke in and dragged Bella to the station.

He didn’t bother with the deputies, just marched her in, proud as a peacock. The betrayal burned in my chest.

This time, no matter how slow the deputies moved, it was over.

The rules didn’t matter anymore. The paperwork was done, the decision made. There was nothing left to do but say goodbye.

My ears rang. Everything spun. I kept mumbling, asking if there was anything he could do.

I begged, pleaded, but Officer Carter just shook his head. His eyes were red, his voice thick with regret.

Officer Carter said there wasn’t.

He reached out, squeezing my shoulder. "I’m sorry, man. I really am."

I started hyperventilating, almost blacking out. He grabbed my shoulders, trying to steady me.

He held me upright, his grip firm. "Breathe," he said. "You gotta hold it together."

He said, "Bella wanted me to give your family a message."

He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, his hands shaking. "She made me promise."

I asked what it was.

My voice cracked. I was terrified to hear the answer.

He told me Bella broke down at the station.

She cried, begged, tried to explain. The deputies just looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

She said if she’d known it was the last thing she’d say, she wouldn’t have threatened to spank her daughter.

She regretted the words, wished she could take them back. She wanted her last memory with her daughter to be a happy one.

She wanted her daughter to know: Mommy loves you very much.

That was all she cared about. Her love for our daughter was bigger than anything else. I clung to those words, sobbing.

That’s when I finally collapsed.

I slid off the stool, my legs giving out. Officer Carter caught me, holding me up as I cried.

After all the paperwork, Bella’s deportation day landed on our daughter’s birthday.

The cruelest twist of fate. The day that was supposed to be a celebration became a farewell.

I held my daughter’s hand as we stood at the border.

The sun was just coming up, painting the sky pink and gold. Our daughter clutched her birthday cake, her eyes wide and confused.

She clutched a little birthday cake. "The strawberry’s for Mommy, the pineapple’s for Daddy, I want the fwosting!"

She pointed at the decorations, her voice bright and hopeful. She didn’t understand what was happening, not really.

She looked up at me. "Daddy, where’s Mommy? Why isn’t she home?"

Her eyes searched mine, full of trust. I swallowed hard, trying not to cry.

I said, "You’ll see Mommy soon."

My voice was gentle, but my heart was breaking. I squeezed her hand, praying I wasn’t lying.

She pouted, "Daddy, you put my socks on weird. Mommy does it better. I want Mommy to do it."

She kicked at the grass, her lower lip trembling. I knelt down, fixing her socks as best I could, wishing Bella was there to help.

I stroked her hair and said nothing.

I just held her close, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. The wind was cold, but I barely felt it.

Because I saw Bella coming.

A white van pulled up, deputies stepping out. Bella emerged, thin and pale, her eyes scanning the crowd until she found us.

She got out of the van, escorted by deputies, Officer Carter among them.

He stood a little apart, his face unreadable. Bella’s hands were cuffed in front of her, but she held her head high.

She was so thin again. All the weight she’d gained was gone in a week.

Her cheeks were hollow, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion. She looked like the girl I’d first met—lost, scared, but still beautiful.

I took my daughter’s hand and walked up, but the deputies stopped us.

They held out their arms, blocking our path. I pleaded with my eyes, begging for a few more minutes.

My throat burned. "Officer, it’s her birthday—can her mom have some cake?"

My voice cracked, desperation bleeding through. The deputies glanced at each other, uncertain.

They looked at each other, but my daughter had already run over, hugging Bella’s leg.

She darted past them, wrapping her arms around Bella’s knee. Bella knelt down, tears streaming down her face.

She looked up, eyes wide. "Mommy, why weren’t you home? Were you mad at me for not going to school?"

Her voice was small, trembling. Bella stroked her hair, whispering reassurances in broken English.

Bella’s lips trembled. Tears streamed down as she said, in halting English, "Mommy’s not mad. Mommy loves you."

Each word was a struggle, but she forced herself to say it. Our daughter clung to her, refusing to let go.

My daughter pouted, "I went to school like a good girl—can you come home and sleep with me?"

She buried her face in Bella’s shoulder, her voice muffled by tears. Bella hugged her tight, rocking back and forth.

Officer Carter sighed. "Feed your mom some cake."

He stepped forward, his voice gentle. The deputies relaxed, giving us space. I opened the box, hands shaking.

We opened the cake, but my daughter insisted, "We haven’t made a wish!"

She dug in her backpack for a candle, her eyes bright with hope. I found a lighter, my hands trembling.

I stuck in the candle. My daughter squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, "I want Mommy to come home. I want to always be with Daddy and Mommy. I’ll be good, Mommy, don’t leave."

She blew out the candle, the flame flickering out in the wind. Bella sobbed, clutching her close.

Bella’s tears fell like rain.

She pressed her face to our daughter’s hair, her shoulders shaking. I felt my own tears spill over, helpless to stop them.

My daughter panicked, covering her mouth. "Daddy, what do I do? Grandma says if you say your wish out loud, it won’t come true."

She looked at me, eyes wide with fear. I knelt beside her, hugging her tight, wishing I could make the world right again.

I had no answer. I just knelt, gently helping her feed cake to Bella.

I guided her hand, helping her scoop up a piece of cake. Bella opened her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Bella opened her mouth, letting her daughter feed her, just so her lips could brush her daughter’s fingers each time.

She lingered on each bite, savoring the touch, the taste, the memory. Our daughter giggled, the sound bright and sweet.

My daughter giggled. "Mommy, that tickles."

She pulled her hand back, laughing through her tears. Bella smiled, her eyes shining with love.

She tried to pull her hand back, but I held it tight.

I wanted to make the moment last, to give them as much time as possible. I squeezed her hand, silently begging her to remember this forever.

"Feed Mommy like this—don’t move."

My voice was gentle but firm. Our daughter nodded, determined to do it right.

She whined, "But it hurts."

Her fingers were sticky with frosting, her arm tired from holding the fork. Bella kissed her hand, soothing her.

Bella said softly, "Let her go."

Her voice was barely audible, but full of kindness. I released our daughter’s hand, letting her step back.

My daughter didn’t know that the moment she let go would be the last time she’d ever touch her mom.

She smiled, oblivious to the finality of it all. Bella wiped her tears, trying to be brave.

Bella couldn’t kiss her fingers anymore. At that moment, across the river, a gunshot echoed.

The sound rang out, sharp and sudden. Everyone froze, the moment shattered. Bella flinched, her eyes wide with fear.

She turned, looking back toward the country she’d fled.

The river shimmered in the autumn light, the far shore just out of reach. Bella stared, her face pale and haunted.

The wind whipped her hair, her thin face so pale in the autumn light.

Leaves swirled around us, the air crisp and cold. Bella shivered, her eyes full of longing.

She looked at me, and I looked at her.

Our eyes met, a thousand words passing between us. I wanted to run to her, to hold her, to promise her everything would be okay.

Suddenly, Bella forced a smile. "You feed me."

She wiped her tears, trying to be strong for our daughter. I nodded, picking up the fork, my hands shaking.

I took the cake, feeding her as slowly as I could.

Each bite was a goodbye, a memory carved into my heart. I wanted the moment to last forever.

I couldn’t bear for the cake to be finished.

I stalled, offering tiny bites, hoping for a miracle. Bella smiled, patient and loving.

I couldn’t bear for our time to end.

I clung to every second, every word, every touch. The world faded away, just the three of us in that fragile bubble.

But all parties have to end, no matter how much you wish they wouldn’t.

The cake was gone, the candles burnt out. The deputies stepped forward, gentle but firm.

When the plate was empty, Bella smiled again.

She reached out, brushing my cheek with her fingers. Her touch was soft, her eyes full of love.

Her English was shaky. She said, word by word, "I love you."

The words broke me. I pulled her close, kissing her forehead, wishing I could hold her forever.

The autumn wind carried her goodbye. She tried to smile for our daughter as the deputies led her away.

She walked with her head high, her steps steady. Our daughter sobbed, reaching for her, but I held her back, tears streaming down my face.

My daughter was heartbroken. "Daddy, why isn’t Mommy coming home? Is it because I said my wish out loud?"

She looked up at me, her eyes full of guilt and fear. I hugged her tight, whispering that it wasn’t her fault, that Mommy loved her more than anything.

I stared after the van, pain burning in my chest.

The world felt empty, the sky too big, the river too wide. I watched the van disappear, my heart breaking all over again.

I left my daughter and ran to the riverbank.

I couldn’t stay still. I sprinted down the embankment, the grass wet beneath my feet. The water rushed by, cold and unforgiving.

Bella pressed her face to the window. When she saw what I was doing, she pounded on the glass.

Her fists left smudges on the glass, her face twisted with fear. I waved, desperate for her to see me.

I kept telling myself, I don’t want her to go back.

I shouted her name, my voice lost in the wind. I didn’t care who heard me. I just wanted her to know I loved her.

Even if she leaves me, even if she goes to another country.

I’d follow her anywhere, do anything to keep her safe. She was my everything.

Even if I spend everything I have to buy her a bus ticket.

Money didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except getting her back.

I don’t want the person I love most to vanish with a gunshot.

The thought haunted me, a nightmare I couldn’t escape. I’d do anything to stop it.

I dove in. The water was freezing, but I didn’t care. I swam hard, straight for the bridge.

Through the blur, I saw a gun raised on the other side.

A border patrol agent stood on the far shore, his weapon drawn. I hesitated, fear and hope warring inside me.

On this side, Officer Carter shouted, "Who the hell do you think you are? He’s American!"

His voice echoed across the water, full of anger and pride. I stopped, treading water, staring at Bella through the van window. In that moment, I knew I’d never stop fighting for her, no matter what it cost.