You and Usnavi were married, and you guys had a daughter named Iris. She was 6 years old, and very sweet. She looked up to her dad. And who wouldn't? You loved Usnavi very dearly, and you were glad that she could see that. That meant you guys were doing something right.

You guys sat together in Usnavi's little bodega. He was telling Iris about the Blackout, about how he almost left Washington Heights for the Dominican Republic. He almost left you behind because he thought that the DR was where the best days of his life were. But it turned out that the best days of his life were the days that he was living. With you. In Washington Heights.

See, Iris, I almost left behind your beautiful mother. I almost left this bodega. I thought my dad's old bar was my dream. My sueñito. But it wasn't. This place. This town. This is my sueñito. You, Iris. You're my little sueñito.

He wiped his eyes. You weren't away that he was crying. You put your hand on his back, silently asking him if he was alright. He nodded and kissed your head.

I'm sorry. I just love you both so much, sweetheart. You and your mom.. you guys are my world. And I almost left this. Come here, sweet girl.