EPILOGUE
Tatlong taon na.
Nakakatawa, no? Akala ko noong araw na 'yon, hindi na iikot ang mundo. Pero ayun... buhay pa rin ako. Humihinga. Kahit minsan, ayoko na.
Nakatayo ako ngayon sa harap ng puntod ni Yndra. Sa kaliwa niya, yung kay Gia. Parang magkasunod na address sa isang street na ayaw ko namang pasukin.
Nilapag ko yung maliit na bouquet na dala ko. Hindi mahal, hindi rin masyadong mabango. Pero feeling ko magugustuhan niya, simple, katulad ng mga kwento niya noon.
"Unfair ka, alam mo ba?" bulong ko, nakataas yung kilay ko habang nakatingin sa pangalan niya sa bato. "Bakit ikaw pa? Bakit hindi yung mga taong walang kwenta?" Napatawa ako, pero yung tawa ko parang pilit na naglalakad sa basag na salamin.
Tumingin ako sa puntod ni Gia. "At ikaw naman, Ate... grabe ka ha. Sinama mo pa si Yndra sa love story mo. Alam mo bang wala na tuloy akong kasama dito?"
Tahimik lang. Kahit alam kong walang sasagot, parang ramdam ko yung dalawang loko na nagtatawanan sa kabilang buhay. Siguro magkasama silang dalawa, nakaupo sa ilalim ng puno, nagbubulungan ng mga secret na hindi ko na malalaman.
"Minsan... gusto ko na lang sumama sa inyo," I admitted, almost whispering. "Pero... ewan. Baka sirain ko lang yung love story niyo. Ayoko naman maging third wheel kahit doon."
Umihip yung hangin. Hindi ko alam kung imahinasyon ko lang, pero parang may halong init, yung tipong parang yakap. At doon ako napapikit, pinipilit huminga nang malalim, kahit bawat paghinga parang humahati sa dibdib ko.
"Sige na. Kayo na. Pero..." ngumiti ako ng kaunti, kahit may luha sa gilid ng mata ko, "...huwag niyo naman akong kalimutan dito."
Umupo ako sa damuhan, tinitingnan lang silang dalawa. Hindi ko na rin namalayan kung ilang oras akong nandoon. Para bang kahit isang taon na, hindi pa rin kumukupas yung sakit.
Siguro... hindi na talaga mawawala.
"Alam niyo ba... kinasal na ako."
I smiled faintly, tracing my fingers over the cold marble letters of their names.
"Hindi siya kagaya niyo, hindi sundalo, hindi bayani... pero mabait. Yung tipong marunong magluto ng sopas pag inuubo ako. Yung tipong pinipilit akong kumain kahit wala akong gana. Hindi niya kayo mapapalitan, pero... tinanggap niya lahat ng sugat ko. Kahit yung mga hindi niya alam kung paano gagamutin."
Napatingin ako sa tabi ko. Sa maliit na batang babae na nakatayo roon, hawak-hawak ang isang maliit na sunflower. "Meet your inaanak," I said softly, tears stinging my eyes. "She's... everything. Cute, kulit, matapang. Parang kayo." Napatawa ako pero mabilis din napalitan ng hikbi. "Lahat ng buhay ko ngayon... siya. Siya na yung dahilan kung bakit ako gumigising kahit ayoko na dati."
Inabot ng anak ko yung sunflower sa puntod ni Yndra. "Mama, para kay Ninang Yndra po," she said, her voice so sweet it broke something inside me. Nilagay naman niya yung isa pa kay Gia. "At para kay Ninang Gia."
"Salamat," bulong ko, kahit alam kong hindi niya alam kung gaano kalalim yung ibig sabihin nun.
Huminga ako nang malalim, pilit iniipon yung lakas na matagal nang butas-butas sa loob ko. "Alam niyo... thank you. Sa lahat ng sakripisyo, sa lahat ng sakit na tinanggap niyo para sa'kin. Alam kong hindi ko mababayaran. Pero... may isa akong pangako sa inyo."
Tumingala ako sa langit. "I will be happy. Kahit mahirap. Kahit may araw na gusto kong sumuko. I'll live my life to the fullest. Dahil yun yung utang ko sa inyo, yung mabuhay sa paraang hindi ko na kayang ikahiya pag nagkita tayo ulit."
Hinalikan ko yung mga dalangin ko bago ibinulong sa hangin, "Mahal ko kayo. Hindi ko kayo makakalimutan. Hindi habang humihinga pa ako."
At habang papalayo kami ng anak ko, ramdam ko pa rin yung bigat sa dibdib. Pero this time... may konting init sa loob. Kasi kahit wala na sila, dala ko sila sa bawat hakbang, bawat tawa ng anak ko, bawat tibok ng puso ko.
At doon ko lang naintindihan, ito yung tunay na kabayaran ng lahat ng ginawa nila para sa akin
I remember the gunfire like I remember her laugh faint, fading, but always at the edge of memory. The air that night was thick with smoke and blood. I lived. Somehow. I never really asked why.
They said I was lucky. That the explosion missed me by a breath. That the last bullet grazed my ribs and not my heart. That I had a reason to keep going.
But they didn't see her.
Didn't see Yndra, crawling through broken glass just to reach me. Didn't see Gianna, screaming at the general, bargaining with her own life if it meant I'd be spared.
Didn't see how I begged them both to leave me behind.
I lost them in seconds.
Yndra went first chest wide open from the blast, still trying to cover my body with hers.
Gianna followed, arms locked around the general's waist as the final grenade rolled beneath them.
She smiled at me before it went off.
Like she knew she was coming home.
The recovery team pulled me out two hours later. I was unconscious, half-buried, bones shattered, eardrums blown out. When I woke up, it was quiet.
No hospital noise. No hand to hold. No Yndra. No Gianna.
Just a letter. Bloodstained and wrinkled. With one word written on the back:
"Live."
I haven't read the whole thing.
Not yet.
Not when every day since feels like punishment.
They gave me medals I didn't want.
A discharge I didn't ask for.
And silence I never earned.
Sometimes, I sit in that same balcony Yndra used to watch the sun from, legs crossed, heart heavy. I drink from her old flask. It still smells like mint and gunpowder.
I imagine her beside me. Telling me to straighten my spine. Or teasing me for crying again.
But she's not here.
They asked if I wanted therapy. I said no. They asked if I planned to join the army again. I said hell no. They asked if I'd ever love again.
I didn't answer.
It's been years.
And tonight, I finally hold her letter in my hand. The real one. The last one.
But I still can't open it. Not yet.
Because something in me says that once I read Yndra's last words, I won't be able to keep pretending I'm okay. That I'm strong. That I don't miss her every damn second of every damn day.
So I put it back in the drawer.
Close it and lock it.
And I breathe.
But... Some nights, I hear her voice.
Calling my name in that commanding way.
And I never want to answer it back.
Because if I do... I might never stop screaming.
End.
