“Ella, how come that mommy at the park, the one with the black hair, how come she told her little boy to stop picking his nose?” Chloe skips alongside me as I lead her back to the house.

It’s incredible to finally go out around the neighborhood without feeling like I’m sneaking out or breaking some kind of rule that could ruin my life. The sun seems brighter, the sky more blue. Everything feels like it’s been washed in hot water and hung out to dry. The crisp colors of the world glide past us as we walk past the vibrant leaves that will soon drop from the trees.

I force myself to keep a straight face at her question. “Well, because it’s bad manners to pick your nose,” I explain.

“Yeah, but, Ella,” Chloe whines, “then I saw her! I saw that mommy pick her nose right after! Why would she tell that boy not to pick his nose and then she did it too?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t see her do that,” I admit.

“You know what? Adults are always like that.” She rolls her head and her long hair flops around. “They say ‘don’t talk with your mouth full’ and ‘don’t pick your nose’ and stuff like that! And then they do that too.”

“Really?” I bite the insides of my cheeks, trying not to laugh at the adorable four-year-old rant about adult hypocrisy.

“Really! They do! When I grow up, I’m gonna have three little girls.” She holds up her fingers just in case I’m not sure how many three is. “And I’m gonna say ‘pick your nose, that’s okay!’ and stuff like that ’cause it’s weird that adults do that.” She thrusts her hands on her hips indignantly.

“Sounds like you’ve got a good plan.” I smile.

“Mmm-hmm, oh look! A ladybug.” She stops next to a shrub and points at the red and black insect. The indignation she felt two seconds ago about nose picking seems to have floated away as her interest focuses on something new.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Oh, and we’re home. That one is my house. It’s your house too now, right?” She points to the simple two-storey home about a hundred feet away.

“Yes, I guess it is.” I think about her words. It’s my home. Our home. A peace I can’t remember ever feeling before washes over me as I realize that, after all these years, I finally have a home again.

“I’ll race ya to the door!” Chloe doesn’t give me a countdown or anything, just starts running down the sidewalk to her driveway.

“Hey, no fair!” I jog behind her, making sure she’s a couple short strides ahead of me.

Chloe’s giggles turn to unrestrained laughter as she makes it up the steps and slaps the palms of her hands against the door. “I won!” She cheers.

“Yep, you beat me fair and square.” I laugh and turn the handle, walking inside with her.

As we kick off our shoes in the front hall, I can hear whispers in the other room. I grip my hands on Chloe’s shoulders, pulling her against my legs protectively as I tilt my head and listen. “Hello?”

“Hey, come on in.”

My shoulders relax as Jackson’s voice fills the hallway.

Chloe grasps onto my hand and leads me to her father. We round the corner into the living room and I gasp.

“Happy Birthday!” Jackson and his mother yell as I blink in surprise at the transformed room.

“Wow, it’s so bee-you-tiful!” Chloe exclaims at the criss-cross of streamers twisted across the ceiling.

“You didn’t have to do this.” My eyes flicker from detail to detail. The bouquet of roses on the table, the balloons floating gently around the room, the beautiful cake covered in frosting shaped as flowers on the coffee table.

“Why not? You deserve a beautiful birthday, Ella.” Jackson walks over to me and slides his arms around my waist. “I know nothing could ever replace your quinceañera. I would never want to, but that doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate you every year. I mean, what’s not to celebrate?” He gives me a quick kiss and when I open my eyes I see his mother has her hands clasped over her heart while his daughter is sticking out her tongue in disgust.

“Thank you,” I murmur softly. Over his shoulder, I can see a couple of presents wrapped up at the edge of the table. “For everything. This is more than I ever dreamed of.”

“Can we have cake now? That looks yummy!” Chloe gets straight to the point and we all laugh at her no-nonsense attitude.

“Not yet, sweetheart.” Marie shakes her head. “First we sing Happy Birthday, remember?”

“Oh, right.” Chloe nods at her grandmother. She takes a huge breath and then bursts into song, singing in the loudest, most off-key tone I’ve ever heard and somehow belting out the sweetest version of Happy Birthday.

“Happy birthday, dear El-la, happy birthday to you!” They sing the last line and, as if on cue, a knock at the door makes all our heads turn.

I smirk up at Jackson. “Now what did you do? This is already enough!” I slide my hand out, pointing to all the decor.

“I didn’t do anything.” He frowns. “And I’m not expecting anyone.” He walks across the room and answers the front door.

I can hear a muffled exchange grow heated between Jackson and what sounds like a couple. Oh Lord, did Sylvia and Raymond track me down somehow? Panic grips my heart as the thought forms ice in my veins.

Suddenly Jackson’s voice gets loud as he yells at them, “Hey! You can’t just storm in here. Get the hell out!”

I watch with unblinking horror as he’s pushed back. I can’t imagine Sylvia and Raymond being strong enough to shove him around, not even if they both tried at the same time. Confusion whirls around me like a cyclone as what my eyes expect to see and what I actually see fight it out in my brain.

Bursting in past Jackson are two police officers, a male and female, both wearing jackets that say: ICE Police. I squint at the acronym and my heart drops out of my chest entirely.

“Ella García! We’ve had an anonymous tip that you’ve been illegally working in this country for over six years.” They rush me like football players scrambling for the ball at the championship game.

“I, um, I…” I have no real words. None to defend myself and none to protest. My mouth dries up as fear climbs up inside me, scratching its way to my brain, freezing me to the spot and leaving me breathless.

“Jackson, what’s going on?” Marie lifts Chloe up on her hip and waits for her son to explain.

“I said to get out of my house. You can’t come in here without a warrant. I know my rights.”

I’ve never seen Jackson so angry. His fists ball up at his side the same way they did when he punched out Raymond.

“Don’t, Jackson, don’t make this worse,” I plead with him not to make a stupid mistake that will land him in a jail cell too.

“Daddy, I’m scared,” Chloe cries, her cheeks stretching out and turning bright red as fat tears trickle down to her quivering chin.

“It’s okay, honey, it’s okay.” I try to reassure her. Or maybe it’s myself I’m trying to calm down. Either way, it’s not working.

“Ma’am, can you provide proof of American citizenship or a visa to prove your legal status in this country?” the woman barks at me.

The room is almost silent except for Chloe’s sobbing. Still, it feels like a train derailing. Twisting metal, screaming voices, and shattering glass would be quieter than the air is right now. I take in Jackson, the man I love. The man I’ll never see again. Tears blur my vision and I shake my head from side to side slowly.

“Then I need to inform you that you’re under arrest.” The man walks over to me and pulls out handcuffs, clicking them down onto my wrist tight.

“Is that really necessary?” Jackson rushes over to me. “She’s not fighting you. Take it off,” he growls.

“It’s procedure.” The man ignores him, but instead of clipping my hands together behind my back, he at least lets me keep them together in front of me. It’s a small human kindness, but it’s still one I appreciate.

“Jackson, please, listen to me.” I twist my mother’s ring up off my finger and hold it out to him. “I want you to have this.”

“I can’t take that.” Tears fill his eyes as he looks from the officers’ faces to mine. “I know how much that ring means to you.” His voice breaks.

“And that’s exactly why I need you to have it. Someday you’ll find me and put it back on my finger, but until then, I want you to keep it to remember me by,” I sob.

“Ella, are you sure?” He reaches out and touches the diamond crusted band and I nod, no longer able to utter words from how hard I’m crying.

“Okay, enough of this. Do you have the ring, sir? Great, time to head out!”

“Where are they taking her? Ella! Don’t go,” Chloe cries as the officers lead me back out the front door. “Ella!” Her tiny voice cracks as she screams for me. “Please, don’t go!”

The officers lead me out of the house. A house that only half an hour ago I considered my home. My home. How stupid could I be? I can’t even look out the window as the police put me in the back of the car. I can’t face the shattered expressions of the family I fell in love with. I broke their hearts. I can’t believe I let myself think I could ever belong here. That I could have my own happiness. That I deserved my own love. I lean over in the seat, my breaths hitching in my throat as tears pour down my face.

I must be cursed. I’ve lost everything. And everyone I’ve ever loved.

Again.