WORRYING SENTIMENTS

I plant my feet on the floor, dropping my head down to look at my father after giving him his medicines and tucking him under the duvet. It pains me to admit, but the man before me is not looking very well at all. I thought he was okay and strong this morning, but maybe my desire to please him blinded me. Then again, what choice did I have? He wanted the dinner to happen as quickly as possible, and knowing him, convincing him otherwise would have been all in vain.


"What is worrying my daughter this much?" He faintly mumbles his usually cold and strict tone, now so worryingly soft and faint.

He looks so tired and weak. Everything about him doesn't portray the unshakable Richard Riccaford that I knew before I returned to this castle, nor does it portray the man who was acting so strong hours ago. This ailment is deteriorating. It is making him dreary, and I am getting worried.

"You know I can take anything, but not seeing my daughter worried like this," he says, sucking some oxygen before adding and taking my hand. "Talk to me, dear. Is it about the decision you made? I gave you an option, right? There is still time to change this, my dear."


Even at this time, in his condition, which doesn't look any close to well, he is thinking of me and my happiness. Life is so unfair, you know. All those times I craved for this kind of opportunity, all those times I pleaded with him to consider my feelings and thoughts about this whole thing, all those moments I tried to reason with him over this marriage, he didn't consider me at all.

He didn't even explain why he was so adamant about making this arrangement work. But now that he is willing to put my interests and feelings before his, it is all useless because things are so messy. Everything is just messed up.


Don't they say that it is better late than never? What will this change in his decision bring, given all that has happened and is happening? It will not change the fact that I developed so much hatred towards Damian, nor will it change the fact that I shouldn't have left my father behind, nor will it soothe the fire of betrayal burning in me.

I guess there is a limit to being late then? Like this? Papa has made me experience the kind of love and pride I have so long desired my entire life. The feeling of knowing that your parents put you before everything—before their interests, image, reputation, and ego. For once in my twenty years, I felt like a real princess. Like the proud daughter of my father. But what will all this change do, huh? Damian already has me in his palm, and I am afraid of the reasons he put me in that spot for. I am frightened of what will transpire when his schemes crush with this rage I am feeling for his betrayal.

"My child?"

"Aah. Yes, Pa?" I respond, tossing my sad tales aside to avoid worrying the old man more.

"Talk to your father. Do you want us to stop this? I can cancel this whole thing if you are not okay, my dear. Just say the word, my child, and your father will do what his precious daughter wants. For once, I want to be an understanding father. I want to do something that you will be proud of."

He always was a terrific father. Yes and well, in his own way. Even if we disagreed on a lot of things, I knew that he was only looking out for my future and also to match to the level of our title in society. He did everything, including forcing me into things that I was disinterested in. He even chose a career for me, something that I have developed an immense passion for in my years of working. Terrific, right?

I pull up a chair and perch myself beside his bed.

"Knowing that you are offering me a choice out of this means the world to me, Father, but I willingly choose this. I am right about the decision you and Mama made for me because, deep down, I know that you two gave it a lot of thought. And I am so proud of you and Mama and Dad. I could never have asked for better parents than you two," I say to him.

"But you hated this. You despised that poor man, Damian, so much, my dear. Don't choose misery for the sake of this old man. My days in this world will soon be over, child. I don't want to leave you in a mess. I don't want to live in a cage. I want you to be free so that you can live your life the way you please. Choose your own happiness, my dear," he pleads, his hands clutching mine as if in a plea to beg me to accept this.

Why does his words hurt? Why do they echo with a worrying sound? His days will soon be over? No, way! He still has a whole lot of time to be with me. There are still so many accomplishments he has to achieve. He and I have a lot of making up to do. All the time we lost and wasted from when I was young, we have to recover that.

"First, you are not going anywhere, Dad," I start with a stinging pain in my heart.

He should stop making me feel like he wants to leave me here in this ugly world all alone. What would I do?

'You have a long life ahead of you, Dad. You still have responsibilities to continue guiding me and taking care of me and your empire. And second, this marriage is not a misery to me anymore. Maybe this was fate, after all. I made a mistake by reveling in this once, but that was because I was childish. I am now wise, and I am seeing this from the perspective that you and Mama saw this from. I think Damian is a good man. The little that I know about him is enough assurance that he will make me happy, and you, Papa, will walk me down the island."