Veronica
"Nanay Sonya? Kailan po babalik si Ate Lincoln dito? I really miss her na po kasi," my daughter suddenly asked, her voice small and laced with a longing that mirrored my own hidden ache.
The clinking of silverware against the ceramic plates suddenly stopped. Sabay na napabaling ang atensyon naming dalawa ni Manang Sonya sa anak ko. We were in the middle of a quiet breakfast, the kind of silence that felt heavy and suffocating ever since that night. I took a deep breath when I saw how my daughter was just staring blankly at her food, her usual bubbly self nowhere to be found.
Nagkatinginan kami ni Manang. I tried to seek some sort of support from her eyes, but I was met with a cold, judgmental stare. Napamulagat na lang ako nang irapan ako nito bago niya pilit na nginitian ang anak ko.
"Babalik din si Ate Lincoln mo, anak. May kailangan lang siyang asikasuhin kaya hindi muna siya makakapunta rito," Manang said softly, reaching out to caress my daughter’s hair. It was a comforting gesture, but even Manang’s voice had a hint of sadness.
"What exactly is she doing po? Is it more important than playing with me?" malungkot pa ring tanong ng anak ko. Her big, innocent eyes were starting to well up with tears.
"A-Ah, ano kasi..." Manang stammered, clearly running out of excuses to protect me from my own daughter’s scrutiny.
"Baby, enough with the questions, okay? Just finish your food. You have school later," I intervened, trying to sound firm but my voice betrayed a slight tremor. I forced a smile, hoping she’d drop the subject.
But she didn't. She dropped her spoon instead, the loud clang echoing through the dining room.
"But why did my Ate Lincoln leave without letting me know? Are you two fighting po ba? What did you do to her, Mommy? Did you make her cry?"
I was stunned. The bluntness of her questions hit me like a physical blow to the chest. I could hear Manang’s soft, mocking huff of laughter under her breath, but my focus was entirely on my daughter. Her lower lip was trembling, and the first few tears began to track down her cheeks.
"Baby, listen to Mommy—"
"No! You’re mean to her! I know it!" She didn't wait for my explanation. She stood up abruptly and ran away, her small footsteps echoing up the stairs followed by the sound of a door slamming shut.
I sat there, frozen. I wanted to follow her, to comfort her, but my feet felt like lead. I could only let out a frustrated, shaky sigh.
It’s been a week. Isang linggo na simula nung literal na naglaho si Eunice sa buhay namin. I didn't expect her to take my words so literally na talagang lalayuan niya kami ng anak ko. When I arrived home that afternoon a week ago, I expected to see her in the kitchen or the garden, but the house felt hollow. She left without a single word. No note, no goodbye, just an empty space where her presence used to be.
And honestly, bakit nga ba siya magpapaalam sa akin? I was the one who drew the line. I was the one who reminded her of her place. I hurt her so deeply that leaving was her only way to survive. So, why does it feel like I’m the one who’s drowning now?
The frustration followed me all the way to the university.
As I stood at the podium, looking at my students, my eyes instinctively drifted to her usual seat. There she was. Eunice Lincoln. But she wasn't the same girl who used to look at me with stars in her eyes.
Ngayon, her attention was everywhere except on me. Kung hindi siya nakatingin sa labas ng bintana, she was buried deep in whatever book she was reading. She was physically present, but her soul was miles away. Even during my discussion, she didn't bother taking notes. She didn't even look up when I used my "teacher voice" to emphasize a point.
