The Last Goodbye

Corbin, undocumented, and Kiara, a daughter of prominent citizens, share a last goodbye

         In a small Southern town where oak trees whispered secrets and the horizon stretched endlessly, two lives had intertwined at the sharp edge of circumstance. Corbin, the quiet dreamer who had built his life on borrowed time, had always lived with shadows. Born in El Salvador yet raised in the land of opportunity, he found himself a man tethered between worlds—home in neither and too kind at heart to rage against the injustice of it. He worked tirelessly, not simply for himself but for the aging parents who had sacrificed everything for a future now crumbling beneath their feet.

         Kiara Collier, with her honey-soft laugh and fierce resilience, had come from a legacy of prominence. Her father, Winston Collier, carried the kind of influence that shaped communities. But where Winston wielded power, Kiara rebelled with heart. Theirs was not a family that forgave deviation easily, and her love for Corbin wasn’t merely forbidden—it was an act of defiance against everything her father stood for.

         Their love should have been enough, but life had a cruel habit of testing even the strongest threads. Corbin’s immigration status—a detail overlooked and misunderstood by everyone but the system—loomed larger with every passing moment. Each letter stamped *NOTICE* chipped away at their plans: their wedding, their future, and the life they had imagined for themselves. And now there was the child, a secret pulsing between them, fragile and unspoken.

         Kiara had begged. Corbin had reasoned. But when the world doesn’t bend, reason breaks. His deportation wasn’t just a threat anymore; it was a reality, and reality demanded sacrifices.

         The park had always been their place—a sanctuary tucked between lives lived too loudly. Tonight, it would hold one last memory. A man about to leave everything he loved. A woman standing still as her world fell apart. Neither ready to say what must be said. The storm hadn’t arrived yet, but its weight was already in the air.

         The park at twilight was still, embracing them with its quiet, as if it knew this was the last time the space would hold them like this. The air, thin and cool, smelled faintly of rain, though the storm hadn’t yet come. A streetlamp above flickered, casting a hesitant light over Corbin and Kiara, two figures standing close and apart all at once.

         Corbin leaned on the rough trunk of an old oak, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. The shadow of the tree’s branches danced over his face, playing tricks with the light, masking the tension in his clenched jaw. For someone about to lose everything, he looked amazingly calm, the corners of his mouth curling upward just slightly, like he was about to crack a joke.

         “The first thing I’ll do in El Salvador,” he said, breaking the silence, “is find one of those pupusa places mom always talks about. You know, the kind they sell out of the back of tiny kitchens with broken doors.” His slight Spanish accent colored his words lightly, a melody she loved.

         Kiara smiled at that, a quiet thing more for herself than him. She stared at the gravel below, scuffing the toe of her boot against the loosened stones. “Sounds ambitious. Hope you don’t mess up the order like you do with my coffee.” Her words came lighter than air, but her grip on the thick folds of her scarf told a different story. It was furrowed in her fingers, a silent act of holding herself together.

         He chuckled, a sound so brief that the murmuring wind could have swallowed it. “I’ll send you a picture when I do. So you’ll know I’ve upgraded from barista screw-ups to pupusa connoisseur.”

          “Sure. I’ll frame it.” She bit her lip hard—too hard.

         Behind them, a bird darted out suddenly from the dogwood tree just beyond the path, flying too low, its wings skimming the edge of the worn wooden bench nearby. Kiara’s eyes tracked its escape, and she imagined what it must be like to just take off like that, to break free from impossible tangles.

         Corbin followed her gaze. “Good instincts,” he murmured. “I think that’s the trick. Knowing when to let go and fly away before you’re caught.”

         Her eyes snapped back to him, wide and startled, but he wasn’t looking at her. His attention was pinned to the bird, now perched on a distant lamppost, its silhouette still. His face betrayed nothing, and yet she felt the weight of everything in those moments—the life they’d almost knitted together, thread by golden thread, and the tear coming to unravel it.

          “Coward’s logic.” She tried to keep her voice even, but it wavered slightly. Kiara tucked a strand of hair that had worked its way loose behind her ear.

         His lips twitched, and there it was again—that almost-smile, as though he could bluff his way through heartbreak by smirking at it. “You’re stronger than me. Always were.”

         She hated that. The way he phrased it. Like he’d already shrunk into the past tense. Her chest tightened, but all she said was, “Stop.” It was no louder than a whisper.

         Minutes folded into themselves. A car passed on the road beyond the park. Its headlights flickered through the trees, briefly illuminating the two of them—a woman with her arms crossed, a man who looked like he was about to vanish into the night.

         When Kiara spoke again, her voice came carefully measured, a flat stretch of earth over shifting tectonic plates. “You believe him, don’t you? Dad. About us.”

         Corbin shook his head—not in denial, but slowly, hungrily, like he was trying to memorize the sound of her voice. His answer came light, but not weightless. “No. I don’t believe him. I just… I’m tired of you having to fight for us when I don’t even know what ‘us’ gets to mean.”

         Her hands slipped into her coat pockets now, though not for warmth. One rested there deliberately, protector of the fragile secret they hadn’t yet dared to name. Not tonight. Tonight had enough endings buried in it already.

          “And what if we’re worth the fight?” Her tone was sharper than intended, but she didn’t reel it back. “What if this isn’t about timing, or logistics, or damn citizenship papers? What if this is where we’re supposed to be?”

         His throat worked as he tried to swallow words he couldn’t say. Instead, he stepped closer and took her hand, his warm palm covering hers, large enough to hold it all—her grief, her hope, the weight of the goodbye they hadn’t spoken yet. His thumb brushed lightly against the silver engagement ring she wore—a quiet promise amidst chaos.

         In the distance, thunder grumbled low and unassuming, as though nature itself hesitated to interrupt. With his free hand, Corbin pointed toward the sky. “Looks like rain’s coming. You should head inside before it starts.”

         She stared at him with a look that bordered on defiance, hot tears slipping unbidden down her cheeks. Then she laughed—somehow. Laughed through the pain like it might buoy them both. “What, and miss the storm?” she said.

         He smiled back—fully this time, even as his own eyes glistened.

         And just like that, he was gone.