The Rockstar Who Loves Me

Song 30 ♫ I Cried Some More

Nothing and no one could make me stop crying.

Dawn and Leyna were the first ones to try, except they broke down as they helped me pack up my office. In the parking lot, the three of us hugged like we'd never see each other again. I got on my car and after my sorrow had reduced to silent sobs, I drove away from the main store of Ultra Beauty and Spa one last time.

Vowing I'd never set foot on it again was easy. I might not even be able to set foot in American soil any longer.

I made it home as though my guardian angel drove for me, because I couldn't even remember the road. Trembling, I called Mom and broke the news to her.

"Que qué?"

She said more, but my ears didn't work properly. All I could hear was the sound of my own wailing, echoing in the walls of my bedroom.

"Tengo que empacar," I told her amid sobs. "Antes de que llegue la migra."

I didn't know if that was how it worked. Probably. Things rarely were in my favor. I'd probably used up all my luck on having met Tae Yang already.

Ay, no.

Tae Yang.

I was going to have to break up with him. There was no way we could stay together if I got deported.

That realization sent me on a fresh wave of tears. I collapsed facedown on my bed, praying with all my heart this wasn't the end. There had to be a way.

There had to be a way I could stay.

Fuck Bryce. I couldn't let him ruin my life.

When Mom made it home early, she found me in my room, looking up immigration forums online searching for any similar cases.

"Voy a llamar a tu tío," she said right away. "Seguro que nos va a ayudar."

For once, I didn't refute the idea. In fact, I regretted not coming up with it earlier.

Uncle Gabriel was in Canada right now, but he dropped whatever he was doing to hop on a call with Mom and I. As if dehydration weren't a possibility at all, I cried all the way through the story, trying to give them as much detail as I could recall from the haze of my memory. The whole scene felt surreal, like it had happened to someone else. I couldn't even wish that were true—I didn't wish this on anyone.

"Creo que tenemos un buen caso," he said, his voice rough. "Déjenme hablar con mis abogados y las vuelvo a llamar en dos horas máximo."

"Qué hago mientras tanto?" I asked with a small voice, fretting with my hands. "Será que empiezo a hacer mis maletas?"

"No," he said right away. "Nada de eso. Quédate quieta."

I did, if by that we meant collapsing in my mom's arms. She wrapped them tight around me, occasionally running her hand through my hair and rubbing my back. More than once, she murmured that they'd never take me away from her. I fervently prayed against that very real possibility, one thousands of families had to face every day. What made ours different?

Well, I had a rich Uncle.

He called back within the promised timeframe with sort of good news. His lawyers did think we had a good case for a wrongful termination lawsuit, but it would drag out for much longer than I had left to remain in the country.

Sixty days. That was the grace period I probably had, the moment Bryce notified the authorities of my status change.

"Hay que conseguirte patrocinio de otra compañía dentro de esos sesenta días," my uncle said.