TORN BETWEEN

Life is really a turn of events, and sometimes, what we think is happening is way far distinct from reality. Sometimes, our eyes may not even see the ordinary things. Sometimes, a heart can even go wrong.


I never could have anticipated that he would feel this way, that he would forgive me so readily and easily, without so much as a word of pleading on my part. He loves me so much that he can't even make me beg for his forgiveness. He loves me so beyond my understanding that he does not want to see me remorseful. It is a revelation that leaves me speechless, grappling with the enormity of his grace and forgiveness, even in the face of my own shortcomings and failings.

I can see now how my anger and resentment blinded me, driving me to lash out in ways that I now regret. I allowed myself to be consumed by the darkness of my own emotions, choosing to live in the oblivion of my own assumptions rather than facing the truth of my father's love and concern for me. Just how can I ever be in this life?

If only I had seen this sooner, if only I had allowed myself to see beyond the veil of my own anger and pride, perhaps things could have been different. Perhaps I could have spared myself—and my father—the pain and heartache that comes from harboring resentment and misunderstanding.


Everything could have been so different now.

Looking at him as he closes his eyes to sleep, I cannot help but wonder how things would have unfolded. If I stayed back here, would he have reconsidered marrying me off to that ghost betrothed? Would anything have changed if I didn't run away? Where would I be? All that I have no idea, but there are two things I am sure of- I wouldn't have met Damian, and my father would probably have not fallen this ill.



More than shock, it was the fear of losing another soul and the only family that I had left that numbed me. And that is how I found myself this morning on a flight back home.

Upon getting here, I am afraid that my grandpa's condition seems worse than what the nanny explained over the phone. He is not sick, but terribly sick. Pain is all that is etched on his dark face. Even in his sleep, he seems like he is still haunted by the pain.

Looking at him, I feel guilty and responsible.

He looks terrible—like he is losing the battle—but I condemn that thought with all the power and might in me. I can't lose another soul. He can't just leave me. Forget the fights and the bitterness. Right now, I just know one thing - I can not bear to bury the last member of my family. He has to conquer this. For us.


All those times he sent for me. All that he did to lure me back. Had he changed his mind about the agreement? Does that agreement still stand? Is that what he wants to talk about? That I still have to honor their end of the bargain? Or that he understands my beliefsdisrespectful and principles and he now respects them?

The weight of my father's expectations bears down on me like a suffocating blanket, crushing me beneath its oppressive force. I am paralyzed by fear, by the overwhelming sense of duty and obligation that binds me to him, shackling me to a fate I never asked for and cannot escape. I want nothing more than to make him proud, to spare him any further heartaches or disappointments, but at what cost?

I am deeply torn between my feelings for him and a tremendous need in my heart for something more—for a life of my own making, free of the limitations of tradition and obligation. But the mere thought of opposing him, of saying that two-letter word that has the power to break his heart, fills me with a gut-wrenching fear that threatens to consume me. I know I can't afford to be disrespectful, callous, and reckless again. I am simply unable to.

I cannot bear the thought of causing him any more pain, any more heartaches than he has already endured. I want nothing more than to see him happy, to witness the spark of joy return to his weary eyes, but in doing so, I fear I will lose myself in the process.

On the other hand, there is Damian—my love, the rock that holds me in this sea of uncertainty. His presence gives me a sense of warmth and belonging that I have never felt before, but he cannot protect me from the storm raging within me. I am torn between my allegiance to my father and my desire for a future with Damian, between the love I have for both of them, and the heartbreaking choice that lies ahead of me.

In the depths of my misery, I find myself confronted with questions I never expected to face—questions of loyalty, duty and obligation, and sacrifice. What is the price I am willing to pay for love?


And you know what the most? It is knowing that in the end, no matter what I choose to do, one of the people that I love the most is deemed to get hurt. And not even my happiness was guaranteed when I chose my father over Damian. This hurts. This stings.

That reminds me that I was to call Damian once I got to the airport but I didn't. I should call him now perhaps, but I left my phone in my purse and I can't leave my father's side. Maybe I should call him after I listen to what my father has to say about that betrothed. It pains me because I am missing Damian. He is my solace in such a time, but he will have to wait. And I hope against all that I hold dearest to that this is not the end for Damian and me. This can't be it, right?