My wrist flicks in a half motion, sprinkling deep sea-blue paint on my unprimed canvas. It falls over the white spatter paint, adding dimension and a layer to the painting.

Honestly, I don't know what I'm doing.

I woke up this morning, lost and full of sorrow. Mika would've been thirty today. Maybe that's why. Gearing my emotions into a new painting is my only healthy way of coping with this. Besides, I have an exhibition in two weeks with only two paintings to showcase.

Luckily, it's an exhibit for multiple artists, but I need four paintings to present to the audience.

When I left New York, I didn't really have an initial plan — I had money, a broken heart, and a passport. Earlier in my journey, I fueled my anguish with drinking, drugs, and sleeping. I backpacked through most of Europe; Malta, Italy, Portugal, United Kingdom, but I couldn't remember a damn thing about them.

It took about a year to break the cycle.

I wasted a year disappointing Mika-- disappointing myself.

But after nearly dying from a heroin overdose, I got my fucking shit together. It was fucking gruesome to come to the realization that Mika is in the afterlife. There's nothing I could do but trek forward towards a new path, a new purpose, a new dream. I didn't give Mika up-- she's my ultimate dream, but that won't be possible until I'm gone.

After getting clean, I attended NAM meetings to ensure a successful journey toward sobriety. It would be a lie if I claimed it was easy-- it is fucking brutal. Even now, it's a continuous journey, and I have to assure myself every day why I'm doing what I'm doing-- for Mika, for her legacy to live on in this world.

Once I was a month sober, I booked a flight to Paris, France, with no thought of what I wanted to do. Since the school year had already started, I had to find another way to accompany my time until the spring semester. It was a lot of random part-time jobs to gain experience in the normal world.

Not because I needed the money.

But because I didn't trust myself to fall into the deep end, unless people were around. It's been an issue I've been working through in my weekly therapy session. It's tough because even though I have someone listening — there are still things I need to keep to myself.

As the years flew by, I learned how to cope with my emotions on my own— no drugs, no alcohol, no need to be surrounded by a crowd. Thoughts are scary, but I think they bring out a different side of me — one I need to keep my career alive.

Spattering grape tint purple on the canvas, the lines form an incoherent line. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. My thoughts are all scattered over the page like this painting. It's too much —all at once. Releasing a frustrated breath, I grab the canvas and toss it to the side with my ongoing collection of unfinished paintings.

Why did I decide to pursue being a painter again?

"Fuck me," I mutter to myself, positioning a new canvas on my easel.

I don't know where to pull inspiration from— I'm upset, frustrated, and over with the world today. It's just— why did I get the opportunity to live and Mika didn't? Why did the universe think I was worth saving? Twice! I don't see what I'm supposed to do— knowing Mika, she could've accomplished more things than I could've ever imagined.

That's why, I guess today, I'm re-evaluating all the time I spent on schooling and working. Am I living my life to the fullest? Could I find a root of happiness? Could the pain seize to exist one day?

Dipping my thick paintbrush in a burst of hot pink, I lather the canvas with a pink layer— thick. After every inch was filled, I put on a timer for four hours to hopefully let the paint sink in. Painting in layers is a tricky process.

A vibration comes from my cell phone. With knitted brows, I plugged in my passcode and tapped on the notification— my alarm system. A breath of relief escapes me.

It was just my mailman.

Leaving my paintbrush on the table, I sprint up the stairs to my second level and head straight to the front door. I unlock the three locks—my skin glistens under the radiating sun, as if I'm a vampire coming out of their cave.

I stuff my hand into the mailbox, gathering all the envelopes into my hand. The top of the mailbox closes with a -slam- ringing in my ears. I shake my head to combat the loud rattle. Holding the door open with my foot, I scatter through the mail until my heart drops dead.

All the other envelopes fall from my hands into the wind like petals on a spring day, and I seize to breathe as I glance down at the letter— it has the same seal Diablo's letter had when he invited me to Diablo's Paraíso.

This has to be a joke.

A sick, twisted joke on me.

There's no way Diablo followed me all the way here. Or he could've. Maybe he wants to torture me with these letters until he kills me as revenge for getting Mika killed. I wouldn't blame him. Sometimes I want to die, but then I remember, one of us has to live for the other.

Try to, at least.

However, I don't bother opening the letter. I don't want to get sucked in. If he wants to kill me, he has to physically face me. I rip the letter and threw the pieces away in a garage can. Nice try, Diablo.

As I go to close the door, I hear the creak of the floorboards and a force keeping the door open. My head cranes around to face a disheveled gray-hair Diablo with matching stubble. He's aged significantly since our last encounter.

Dark blue bags frame his brown irises. His nose ring has been changed from a stud to a hoop. His patchy gray beard makes him look as if he hadn't showered in years. Diablo's hair is thrown into a ponytail, reaching past his shoulder.

I give up on closing the door. "What do you want?"

Diablo relaxes his back on the doorframe. "I came here to make sure you read the letter, but I had doubts you would on your own."

My nose flares. "I don't want your letter, Diablo. I don't want to be sucked back into that world again. I'm trying to move on. Maybe you should too."

My arm strength presses on the door, but Diablo's body keeps the door from shutting. "Even if I could reunite you with Mika? Would you still want to let things go, then?"

My heart leaps through the hoops of fire— the first positive reaction in years. But he's lying. He wants to toy with me. Mika couldn't survive in that explosion as much as I thought for her as a superhero, a guardian Angel— she was just human.

I scoff. "Fuck you for trying to get my hopes up."

"I'm not lying."

I roll my eyes, shoving him out of the doorway with my shoulder and slamming the door shut. It's hard to believe him after all the mind-fucking I've gone through.

Diablo knocks on the door and screams, "I know it's hard to believe me, but I have evidence. Just see for yourself, and if you don't believe me, I'll go."

Curiosity spreads through my veins like an unwanted virus. It corrupts my thoughts, my hopes, my dreams— do I give in? I nibble on my lips. No. I shouldn't. Why do I let myself fall for these games time and time again?

Falling into his pit of lies, I open the door halfway enough to extend my hand. Diablo yawns, digging into his pocket, and pulls out photographs held together with a clip.

Gnawing my lip, I hastily grab the bundle from Diablo and toss the clip to the side. My heart skyrockets to the sky, floating in the clouds, in another dimension of reality because this cannot be real.

It's Mika?

My knees buckle, collapsing to the ground as tears pool in my eyes. There's one shot of Mika. Up close with a sunflower behind her ear, sculpting her hair around the curve of her face. Her aquamarine irises pop against all the yellow, capturing me in her net like I never left. It's authentic with no makeup on her face— just her natural beauty.

I rapidly go through the rest, snaps of Mika leaving and arriving with a cane in her hand to her tiny, tight brick house.  A million questions spiral in my head like an endless doom. How did she make it out? Why didn't she come to look for me? Did she find someone else to love? Did she decide to stay with Diablo over me?

Diablo swings the door open, leaning his palm while his other hand holds his cigar. "I helped Mika escape the building. See, she made me a promise— to say alive, and I wasn't going to let her die just to save your ass. So, I took matters into my own hands. She barely just made it."

I crawl forward like a hopeless man, grabbing his wrist. "I never thought I would say this, but thank you. I don't know what else to say, but thank you for saving her. She deserved to live a hundred times more than I did."

A soft smile stretches across my face, reveling in the phenomena of the world. Heart-wrenching sobs escape my throat. My stomach settles before a new idea creates a lump in my throat. An unknown emotion flash in Diablo's irises before his face quickly shifts, and he awkwardly pats my back.

"No need to thank me." Diablo wiggles his wrist out of my grip. "I didn't do it for you. I did for Mika. If she was going to die for someone-- there's no way in hell it should be for you."

I laugh humorlessly. "Where is she? W-Why?" I gnaw at my lips, contemplating over, asking the question that grills my brain like a kabob. "Why didn't she look for me? Did I drive her away? Of course, I did." I slump down onto the staircase, resting my elbows on my thighs.

Diablo sighs, sinking into the missing spot beside me. "At first, I didn't think she was going to make it. Mika was in a coma for three months. The doctors were losing faith, but Mika always pulls through. We parted ways afterward, but I check in on her every now and then."

My heart beats to the sound of galloping horses as I admire Mika eating a croissant with a black beret on her head. "I-Is she happy? That's all I ever want for her, even if it doesn't involve me. Sometimes first loves aren't meant to be our last."

Diablo shoves a couple of brand-new photos in my face of Mika. It's heartbreaking. The images slices my organs in half, creating a black void in my body. It swallows me into the abyss of never-ending throbbing pain. It's multiple pictures of Mika-- her nose swollen red, her eyes bloodshot, her protruding lips-- she's sobbing.

"She's miserable without you, but she doesn't think she deserves to be with you," Diablo explains, his irises conveying a glimmer of despair. "I told her to go to you, but she refused out of guilt. She thinks you deserve someone better than her, but I think you have the right to make the decision yourself."

Guilt antagonizes my pumping blood, causing my head to fall into my palms. It's all my fault. Instead of hearing her out like a respectable boyfriend would, I immediately painted her as the villain-- as the monster. There's nothing more I regret in my entire life than the moment I said that to her.

Three years on my own leaves a lot of downtime to rethink every possible outcome of our situation. I could've heard Mika out instead of falling into Mateo's lap like he wanted me to and be the boyfriend I should've been. How could've I let Mateo blindside me? Why didn't I see everything that was right fucking in front of me?

I swallow the knot in my throat. "I want to be with her, Diablo-- truly, I do, but I don't deserve her. The fact she thinks lowly of herself because of the entire situation. It's absurd. I'm fucking embarrassed. I didn't even let her tell me what my brother and familia did to her. I just accused her."

Diablo rolls his eyes. "Oh my god, you guys are so fucking annoying. You both don't deserve each other, but maybe that makes you guys the perfect match. The past is in the past. Neither of you can change it, but you can learn from it. This is all fucking pointless. Why live in misery when you could go to Mika tonight? Win her back."

"It's not that easy."

"Yeah." Diablo swats my shoulder. "Because you both make this situation fucking impossible. If you're miserable without each other, then why stay in this agonizing state? Why don't you win Mika over again and convince her to give you guys another try? There's nothing stopping you except yourselves."

Realization dawns on me. "I-I don't know where to start."

"It's simple," Diablo assures, squeezing my shoulder blades. "Mika is in London with Isabela. Apparently, even in a new life, she can't help but mess with another Mafia family. Mika helped Isabela escape her arranged marriage. They're constantly jumping around-- her next place is Paris. Where your..."

"Where my exhibit is being held." My mouth falls open.

Diablo snaps his fingers. "Exactly! I'll mail her tickets for the event, and you do the rest."

My heart rate jumps to the speed of a rollercoaster. "W-What do I say? How do I fix things between us?"

His smile falls. "Do I have to think of everything? Asiel, this has to come from the heart. You guys put everything out in the open. If it's unfixable, then you guys will have closure. God, when did I become a couple's counselor?"

Shock seizes me as I watch Diablo thrust down the stairs. "Why are you doing this?"

Diablo halts, ruffling his long, husky hair into a messy drape over his shoulders. "I'm dying. The doctors say I have four months to live and sue me for wanting Mika to be happy when I'm gone. I love her, and I don't want her to live the life I've. You're her person. You're her happiness, Asiel. So, go make her happy."

I almost want to hug Diablo until I remember all the shit he dragged Mika through. This sign of compassion is the very least he could do after wrecking her life in ways that are unforgivable. I'm coming for you, Mika.

You won't get away this time.

This time, we will be Mrs & Mr. Morterero.

Here's part one for you guys, I hope you're extremely excited for the second epilogue!!! It's really long because I wanted to spoil you guys and I hope it will make you guys cry, weep, giggle, heart race and all the above!!!

Are you proud of what Asiel was able to accomplish on his own?

We ruled one character out— the spin-off is not about Diablo😂😂 I hate to break it to you, but he's dying sooner rather than later😔 kind-of bittersweet for him if you guys like him

What are your predictions in Mika's life? How do you think she's holding up?

Can't wait to be back tomorrow to officially end the story for good 🥹🥹🥹I'm definitely going to cry, I'm extra emotional these days

Everyone comment a name for Asiel and Mika's future children— just for fun 💜❤️💜❤️