𝙗𝙮𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙘𝙩, 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚.
SECTION ONE: SACRIFICE—0002; CITRUS.

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SALLY JACKSON'S SON DOES NOT RESEMBLE HER HUSBAND. Despite his young age, Perseus's gaze holds the depth of sea-green waters. He is a few months old, and his eyes are piercing and captivating, adorned with hints of turquoise and swirling emerald like a mesmerizing underwater current. In the sunlight, they sparkle, reminiscent of a tranquil lagoon concealed in a tropical paradise. His skin boasts a natural sun-kissed tone, a warm golden hue that perfectly complements his striking eyes, framed by black curls as if he were a child raised by the beach, brushed with salt-water and dried by the marine breeze. He seems to embody a fragment of the ocean's beauty, enchanting everyone he encounters, even though he's just a few months old.

Perseus reminded Yulissa of home—of Las Terrenas, a small coastal town in the Dominican Republic, where she grew up surrounded by the breathtaking hermosura of the Caribbean Sea. The sight of his oceanic features whisked her back to the white-sand shores and vibrant community that she had left behind, leaving her with an earthshattering sense of nostalgia and a yearning for the roots that could not anchor themselves in the urban labyrinth of New York City. When she craddled the infant, Yulissa could almost hear the gentle lapping of waves and feel the warm embrace of the sun on her skin.

She always had the same thought whenever she saw Perseus:
If Sally Jackson's son was the sea, then her husband was the sewage that tainted it.

Gabriel Ugliano existed as the epitome of repulsiveness. His lifeless eyes resembled dull orbs that failed to convey even the slightest spark of humanity. The sallow pallor of his skin mirrors the ghastly hue of a decaying corpse, like a bloated walrus washed ashore on the verge of decomposition. Gabriel's overall disheveled and unkempt appearance, coupled with his profoundly unpleasant demeanor, acts as an immediate deterrent, casting an offensive feeling of discomfort upon anyone unfortunate enough to find themselves in his presence.

The true horror lied in the assaulting stench that reeked from him—an unbearable amalgamation of rancid shit and the putrid scent of rotting garbage mixed with alcohol and tobacco—a nauseating odor that lingered persistently, a noxious reminder of Gabriel Ugliano's repulsiveness that seems to defy the boundaries of human tolerance. It is as if his disgusting nature extends beyond just his physical appearance, permeating every aspect of his being. The air itself became contaminated by his presence, leaving an inescapable whiff of repugnance that outlasts his departure, haunting those unfortunate enough to have crossed paths with this living embodiment of revulsion.

Smelly Gabe is not the father of Sally's child; that much is certain.

It made Yulissa wonder why someone as young and strikingly beautiful as Sally would ever become involved with someone so offensive in the first place. She is trying to be less of a chismosa, though, so she refrains from asking Sally about her relationship—still, the insatiable need to know persists as an itch she can't seem to scratch.

She knew that women often love mindlessly. With Bernardo's name still tattooed on her lower back, she felt like the last person suited to pass judgment on someone's choices in love, but at least Yulissa's ex-husband never left a lingering stench wherever he went, a rare silver lining in their failed marriage. And it is exactly that: a failed marriage that dragged on for far too long, leaving memories that still ache on quiet nights. She stayed for the sake of her children; Gabriel could not be Perseus's biological father, so why did Sally stay with him?

"Coño!" Yulissa exclaimed, releasing the hooks on her faja. On the bed where they all slept huddled together, Ilaria and Thiago jolted upright, startled by her sudden outburst. She paid them no mind as Thiago grew teary-eyed, clutching his stuffed animal tightly—her mother said it was good practice to allow children to cry and self-soothe.

She sighed and removed the compression garment instead, feeling instant relief as the tight fabric loosened its grip on her body. The finger she held the clasp with was sore and swollen; it was impossible to fasten it with the weight she had gained during her pregnancy, despite the stress of the divorce causing an early birth. It stubbornly lingered, persisting as a constant reminder of the sacrifices she had made for motherhood.

In the kitchen, she discovered Alvie already awake. There was a bashful innocence to the happiness gushing from his eyes; Bernardo planned to pick them all up for the weekend, promising to make amends for his neglect over the past two weekends by treating them to a day at the Sesame Place theme park in Pennsylvania.

Alvie was diligently boiling water for Wilmarie's powdered formula, talking to Bernardo on the cellphone his father had given him for his birthday. He listened intently to his father's voice, eagerly discussing the rides and attractions they would explore together.

Yulissa ignored him. The baby was still wearing last night's clothing; her hair was disheveled, and her cheeks flushed from sleep. Whereas Ilaria inherited her father's light complexion and round facial features, Wilmarie had taken after her mother entirely; from the richness of her skin tone to the darkness of her black curls, she was a flawless reflection of Yulissa's beauty. She reached out her tiny hand toward her mother—Yulissa grinned at the sight of her daughter's outstretched hand, feeling a surge of love and warmth. "Chiquitita, why are you awake so early? Hm? Did you have a bad dream?"

The infant was staring at Yulissa's face and babbling nonsensically, pleading to be picked up and held. Yulissa tickled her chin, laughing at her offended expression.

"Mami," Alvie greeted when he hung up the phone, his voice filled with excitement; he had ketchup stains on the corner of his mouth, and his plate of chicken nuggets had gone cold in the time he had spent talking to his father. Yulissa took a moment to wipe his face clean. "Que Dios te bendiga, Alvie Mio."

"Mrs. Sally came over with cookies while you were sleeping." Alvie told her, kicking his feet where they dangled from the edge of the chair. "She said they were for me and Gogo and Conchita, but I think she just wanted an excuse to see you, Mami."

Yulissa paused as she prepared the greca for her morning coffee. She couldn't help but smile. "Well, we'll have to thank Mrs. Sally properly then," she replied. "Maybe we can invite her over for dinner one night. It's always nice to have good company."

Her son pursed his lips. "I told Papi about Smelly Gabe," he said suddenly. Yulissa's smile faded slightly. "Oh, really? What did Papi say?" she asked, attempting to sound laid-back. If she had her way, not a single thought of her ex-husband would cross her children's minds, but it seemed God handed His crosses without any regard for her wishes.

Alvie shrugged his shoulders. "He just said we shouldn't talk to Mrs. Sally because we could get in trouble or hurt because people like Smelly Gabe are mean to everyone, even little babies like Wils," he replied with a hint of disappointment in his voice. "And he told me to keep an eye on you, so you don't get too close to Mrs. Sally."

The fights with her ex-husband originated from his need to control Yulissa. He dictated who she spoke to, where she went, her job, her money, clothing, beverages, meals, and medication—Bernardo controlled everything, driven by senseless jealousy and machismo. When she had grown too old to listen blindly to a raging tyrant, he would beat her until she submitted to his demands. Yulissa had lived in fear for years, perpetually tiptoeing to avoid triggering his wrath. She'll never lose the scars that Bernardo left on her.

But they are divorced now. Bernardo had controlled everything until he handed her the papers himself. She reminded herself that he no longer had that right; they were separated, and she was still very much alive. Nobody could ever tell her what to do again—not even her son.

Yulissa sneered. "Listen, nene, you don't have to tell anything about me to your Papi. I'm your parent too, am I not? I'm capable of making my own choices about who I choose to be friends with. If you don't agree, then go ask your daddy for a better mom."

Alvie's eyes widened, nervously spewing out apologies and explanations, but Yulissa began to prepare Wilmarie's formula, dismissing his words with a wave of her hand. "Y también ibas a dejar que la niña muriera de hambre." She complained, shaking her head in disbelief. Her son's face flushed with guilt.

"No, mami, I was—"

Yulissa slammed the container of formula on the countertop. "Cállese," she scolded. "Go get your siblings ready. We don't have the time to be arguing right now."

Alvie nodded hastily, retreating from the kitchen with light steps to avoid the creaking of the floor. Collecting herself, Yulissa concentrated on preparing the bottle, blindly scooping out the amount of formula; After four children, it had become a mindless routine. She had her son take on some of the responsibilities now that he was older, but evidently she had trusted him too much.

He was beginning to act like her ex-husband; she couldn't figure out where she had gone wrong with that boy.

She was consumed by a suffocating fear, a haunting emotion that had plagued her since the birth of her two sons—an apprehension that her children might tread the same path as Bernardo. The possibility lingered, considering they were all brought up in a household under his influence. However, there was one exception among them.

Yulissa held Wilmarie tightly.

"Thank God that I have you, dulcecita de mi corazón." She told her baby, laughing at the sight of her daughter's eagerness to latch onto the bottle. Wilmarie smiled gummily between each mouthful of milk, a tiny dimple on her cheek appearing as if to say, I only need you, mami.

In the afternoon, just as her ex-husband arrived to pick up the children, Yulissa knocked on Sally's apartment door with a purpose. Just to make a point, she ignored Bernardo entirely, despite his attempts to engage in conversation and Alvie's pleading puppy eyes. Yulissa had finally reached her breaking point with their constant meddling and disrespect towards her. She was determined to stand up for herself and make it clear that she would no longer tolerate his presence in her life beyond their shared children.

She tried to mask the growing resentment that intensified with each of Ilaria's joyous screeches upon seeing her father for the first time in weeks; the sound of Thiago's stutter reappearing from the excitement of talking to Bernardo was like nails on a chalkboard to Yulissa. Her children might not be aware of it, but in their stupidity, they continued to remain unaware of the inevitable reality: Their father will get married to one of his mistresses and replace them soon enough, the second she falls pregnant.

Only a mother's love could shield them from the pain and heartbreak that awaited them—she is the only one who will love them without conditions, unselfishly, no matter what happens.

When Sally opened the door, visibly frightened with poorly concealed finger marks on her throat, Yulissa could've died from swallowing down all of her tears. She entered the home without looking back at the happy sight of Bernardo and his children. The acrid stench that filled the tobacco-stained apartment was more bearable to her than enduring the illusion of a joyful family gathering.

"Oh, Yulissa!" Sally greeted her nervously; the woman didn't seem to mind the way she had barged in without invitation, even if her eyes betrayed a hint of shame. The Dominican woman forced a smile; it was disheartening to see someone so young already accustomed to being pushed around and walked on. It reminded Yulissa of herself, back when she first met Bernardo.

"Hola, mami." Yulissa hugged the woman, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Sally returned it casually, her body tense with apprehension, but she seemed pleased to have received affection without pain following. "How're you today? Sleep well? Did you eat?" She asked, concern weighing in her voice.

Sally hesitated for a moment before answering, "I'm okay; I just had a small breakfast." Yulissa nodded, acknowledging Sally's response as a habitual tendency to downplay her own needs. She made a mental note to make sure Sally had a proper meal later. In the Dominican Republic, neighbors readily looked out for each other, and Yulissa had taken that responsibility like a sacred oath from the day she was born.

In this complex, where doors remained shut and interactions between neighbors were limited, she was determined not to let Sally shut her out as well.

"No, no," Yulissa told the woman, shaking her head. "It can't be small, mami! You just had a baby—and look how skinny you are! I can't believe it. You need to eat well to regain your strength and take care of your little one. Let me bring you a hearty meal tonight, something nutritious and delicious."

Sally was flustered, her pale skin taking on a rosy hue. She hesitated for a moment before finally giving in. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice filled with gratitude. "I've been so overwhelmed lately. I... appreciate your thoughtfulness, truly."

Yulissa grinned at the woman; her eyes wandered around the apartment, taking note of all the ashtrays and empty beer bottles scattered about. The air was heavy with the lingering scent of stale smoke. The worn-out furniture showed signs of years of use, with visible stains and tears on the upholstery. Dirty dishes were heaped in the sink, unwashed, and piled high, emitting a faint, unpleasant odor. The floor was littered with crumbs, and the remnants of past meals clung to the surfaces. Filthy men's laundry was strewn across the room. Yulissa's heart broke as she realized the extent of Sally's struggle; she knew that, beyond just a meal, Sally needed support and a helping hand to get back on her feet.

"Where's little Percy?" She asked. Yulissa swore to herself that she'd be back to help clean; she would've started now if Sally wasn't trembling from an unwarranted feeling of mortification. "My ex-husband came to pick up the children for the weekend, so I'm going to be home alone. Visit me often, okay? I'll die of loneliness without some company."

Sally couldn't help but offer a helpless smile, shyly tucking strands of her frizzy hair behind her ear. "I will," she agreed sweetly. The twenty-year-old guided her to Percy's nursery, the only clean room in the household. The infant babbled to the empty air as if there were someone present, chubby little hands reaching out as if anticipating being held, expressions crestfallen each time they went unmet.

Yulissa lamented the sight—the poor child likely felt neglected and hungry for attention, considering Sally had to dedicate most of her day to cleaning up after Gabe and managing the rest of the household chores. She picked him up with a coo, cradling him in her arms. The baby fussed, wrinkling his tiny nose and squirming in discomfort, staring beyond Yulissa's shoulder as if searching for someone else. Yulissa wondered if Percy's longing gaze was a sign that he yearned for his absent father, or perhaps he simply craved the attention of someone new; regardless, if he was seeking connection, Yulissa was resolute in being that person for him.

"Hola, dormilón." She laughed at the adorable expression on Percy's face, tickling his belly to ease his discomfort. He grumbled, the intensity of his sea-green eyes never wavering. "You are going to be a handful, won't you? But that's okay; you can look after Wilmarie in the future. God knows my little dulce will need someone to watch over her."

Yulissa's heart swelled as she imagined Percy and Wilmarie growing up together, forming a bond that would last a lifetime. The way it is meant to be, the way it is in the Dominican Republic, where community is family—where family is everything, In a country where depression and loneliness have been normalized, a simple friendship could potentially rescue her from a lifetime of solitude.

She hoped, at least; Yulissa knew it could have saved her.

Her heart thumped in her throat. "Alvie said you brought us cookies this morning. I'm not very good at baking, but I know how to make great coffee. Or tea, if you prefer that?" She asked Sally, hoping she didn't come across as desperate for company as she felt.

Sally's mouth fell open, hesitating for a moment. Gabriel would be home soon, and she hadn't started dinner yet, but Yulissa's brown eyes held a delicate vulnerability, an aching sort of yearning that spoke of a past where she had everything only to see it slip away, leaving her in a state of bewilderment and loss. It was nearly childish in her grieving hope; Sally recognized it easily. She felt the same way, too. And it was understanding that rendered Sally unable to utter the word 'no.'

She mustered the strength to swallow her fears, nodding slowly at first. Gradually, a newfound confidence blossomed within her, empowering her to find her voice and speak with assurance. "I would love some tea, thank you."

Yulissa prepared a steaming mug of dark coffee without sugar; it was a traditional Dominican brand Sally had never seen before, the rich and aromatic blend infusing the room with a comforting warmth as wisps of steam rose gracefully from the greca. She had crafted a caffeine-free tea for Sally, a delicate blend of chamomile and lavender that naturally imbued a calming spell on her frayed nerves, despite it coming in cheap tea bags. As Sally savored each sip, the delicate flavors on her tongue unfolded like a soothing lotus, gradually dispelling the stress that lingered from defying Gabriel.

Yulissa plated saltine crackers and cubed cheese, taking care to remove the red wax coating but struggling when she attempted to peel the skin off the oranges. She dug her fingers into the soft flesh, the juice squirting out and dripping down her hands. Sally laughed quietly at the woman's vicious expression. "Let me do it," she told her, taking the fruit from Yulissa's hand.

She peeled the oranges carefully, splitting them into neat segments on the tray. The smell of citrus filled the air. "How did you do it so perfectly?" Yulissa marveled.

Sally felt a warm flush on her cheek; it had been a while since she received such a compliment. Responding with modesty, she concealed her delight, saying, "My uncle Rich loved oranges. It would be pitiful if I couldn't peel them properly after all those years of practice."

"Your uncle raised you?" Yulissa asked, her curiosity piqued; it wasn't judgmental or intrusive, just genuine interest. Sally nodded. "My parents died in a plane crash when I was five years old," she replied softly. "My uncle took me in and raised me as his own. He taught me a lot of things, like how to peel oranges, for example."

Yulissa beamed with a smile that could rival the radiance of a goddess, and to tell the truth, at first glance, Sally had mistaken her for Aphrodite. There was an innate beauty to the Dominican woman that supermodels or Hollywood actresses could only dream of possessing. It was a captivating allure; Sally attributed it to her expressive brown eyes, which freely conveyed emotions, unable to conceal the genuine warmth emanating from within.

"That's wonderful! Back home, my mother never allowed me near the kitchen. Too eager, she complained. Oh, one time—" Yulissa continued her story. She is so lively, her emotions lifting her body as she remembered details to share. She threw her head back with laughter, loudly and boisterously, and clapped her hands together in excitement. When she mentioned the name of a person, her eyes softened, and a wistful smile appeared on her face, hinting at a deeper connection and fond memories.

Yulissa was unlike anyone Sally had encountered before.

"When I got pregnant, my mother presented me with an ultimatum." Yulissa explained with unwavering inner strength. "She insisted that I had to make a choice between giving up the baby or leaving her house. I couldn't imagine abandoning my child, so I chose to run away with my son and my husband. Well, we finalized the divorce just last month. But it is to say that, despite the challenges, I have never regretted my decision." Her perseverance was palpable through her words as she declared, "My children are my world, my reason for living. I only need them and the grace of God, Sally."

Sally's uncle, Rich, used to be religious.
Unlike Yulissa, he wasn't overtly vocal about his faith, opting to keep his beliefs more private and personal—in fact, Sally hadn't known about his faith until the very last few days of his illness before cancer claimed his life. During those last days, Rich sought solace in his faith, finding comfort and strength in his connection with God, knowing that medical treatment couldn't save him. He'd pray for Sally and ask her to pray for him in return. She had recited the prayers slowly and with uncertainty, but witnessing the tranquility it brought to her uncle made every hesitated word worth the effort—it made the prospect of going into debt to afford a proper funeral seem inconsequential. Her uncle passed away peacefully, buried as he had wished.

At times, Sally found herself yearning for the unwavering faith that her uncle died with. It must be grounding to always have the reassurance that only came from believing in God, or a god, she mused. But after meeting Poseidon, she couldn't help but doubt the divinity and might of any higher power.

He had been so kind, so sweet.
Then he had been nothing at all.

Sally sighed, her gaze fixated on the ripples that gracefully danced across the surface of her tea as she tapped the mug pensively. Then Yulissa's hand grasped her wrist, the woman smiling brightly at her as she repeated herself. "How about you, mami? How did you end up gracing Apartment 5B?"

"Oh," Sally said, straightening up in her chair, ashamed of her momentary distraction.
"Well, it's a long story," she began. "My uncle was diagnosed with cancer at the start of my senior year of high school. We couldn't afford treatment, and the medical bills were piling up. Had to sell his house. I took up a few part-time jobs to help support us while the sale money went to his treatment." Sally paused, her eyes filled with memories of the difficult times. "But my uncle's condition worsened.  After his death, I was left to manage his debts and expenses. It was... hard."

Yulissa smiled sadly, squeezing her hand in support. "I can't even imagine how difficult that must have been for you. Such a heavy thing at such a young age." She said it empathetically. "But God gave you strength to endure it, didn't he? "

Sally grinned at the mention of her son; from the kitchen, she could see him peacefully napping in Wilmarie's bassinet. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before responding, "Yes, he did. Percy has been my... everything through it all."

Yulissa hummed knowingly. "He looks just like his father," she said slyly, like she was teasing Sally about a secret she knew.

Her smile faded slightly. "He does." Sally replied, thinking of those months in Montauk. 

Yulissa's eyes softened with understanding. "I can only imagine how much you miss him," she said gently. Sally nodded, her gaze drifting back to her sleeping son."Every day," she whispered, her voice filled with longing.

"He offered to take me away," she confessed, needing someone else to carry the guilt that weighed heavy on her heart—because Poseidon, in all of his immortal kindness, had promised her palaces under the sea and a life of eternal bliss. A lifetime of safety for Percy, away from the dangers and hardships of the mortal world. "But it wouldn't have been fair to him."

Yulissa didn't seem to like that answer. "Well, if it wouldn't have been fair to him, then maybe he shouldn't have gotten you pregnant," she remarked candidly, her voice laced with bitterness.

Yulissa's words struck a chord within her. "He shouldn't have, huh?" She replied, leaning on her hand as the two women exchanged a knowing glance. Unable to help it, Sally giggled before she could stop herself. Yulissa joined in, her laughter echoing through the room. The tension between them seemed to dissipate as they shared a moment of understanding. It was a relief to find someone who could see the humor in their situation, even if it was tinged with heartbreak.

This, Sally imagined, must be what Uncle Rich felt when he prayed to God.

"You deserve happiness too, Sally." Yulissa told her. "Someone to look after you and to love you. You shouldn't have to sacrifice your own happiness for others, you know." And Sally was aware; she lived with it like a pebble in her shoe—small and bothersome, yet altering her entire equilibrium and causing discomfort with each step. She knew she deserved more than a man who threw garbage at her and slapped her across the face when he was angry.A god had loved her once. Why couldn't a good man love her too?

But Sally always wanted to be a writer. It was her dream; it shaped the way she saw everything around her. She noticed young how life seemed to unfold like a story, how everything—every little moment—had a theme. For her, sacrifice was written into her life. It was in the heartbreak and loss that had been there from the very beginning. She could love Poseidon, but she could not keep him; she could have Percy but lose everything else. She has never loved without it hurting. Sally doubted she could recognize love if it rid itself of blood.

But Yulissa had finished her coffee before Sally could explain her thoughts to her, handing Sally the last wedge of the oranges she had peeled for the woman. "You deserve the same," Sally told the woman, the least she could do, and Yulissa grinned at her with an abundance of foreign affection.

Sally wanted to keep talking to her, but Percy began to cry as he woke up from his nap, and the conversation ended.

Later that night, while waiting for Gabriel's dinner to be ready, Sally found herself preparing cookie batter as well. She made far too many for her—her husband was allergic to nuts and couldn't eat them, unfortunately. And it would've been an issue before, but now she has a new neighbor to share them with.

It'll hurt one day, she knew. But what in her life hasn't?

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𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ! ! !
Yes, they're citrus soulmates. And Wils and Percy are pomegranate soulmates, what about it? LOL I LOVE THEM

Also, y'all really let me have a stroke last chapter and didn't mention a single thing about the repeating paragraphs .... fake ass people smh. I'm sorry to everyone who had to suffer through it, I ended up fixing it!

I love any and all thoughts regarding the story! If there's anything you'd like me to write, please let me know! I'm here to serve

Thank you for reading! Bye-bye!