Maven and Adrianna were like the sun and the moon. Their paths were meant to cross but not to sync eternally.
Both from prominent wealthy families separated by hatred and vendetta, they should've left it at that. But fate has a funny way to let them...
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Armand Gustavo Sobreviñas y Madrigal a son, a father and a friend Forever in our hearts
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Losing my father reminded me how little time we have in this world, it made me reflect the cycle of life. I realized, during my confinement, that losing him left me with guilt, that if I only knew it would happen, I would've cherished every moment I had with him.
I found myself regretting the fact that I spent most of my life being infuriated—hating him for his choices and his flaws, and that I never got the chance to thank him in the end.
I realized I had my focus too much on my self to actually take the time and think about what my father mean to us. When my father passed, it's traumatic. It was a confusing time, devastating even. But, it brought my mind to the time when I was younger and how much he cared about us, as a family, and how much of an impact he had on our lives.
I stared at my father's tomb as I waited for the tears to come and flow down my cheeks. I waited and waited but it didn't come. I must be numb, I thought, because I can no longer cry in front of him.
Despite the fact that it has been a month, I was still in denial. No matter how long and how many times I stood there in our family mausoleum in Manila Cemetery, I just can't believe it; my father was gone.
I found Rory holding a bouquet when I came earlier but we did not speak right away. We remained engulfed in silence, too deep in our own misery. We were alone and I watched her from behind, kneeling and laying down the bouquets for our dad.
Maria Aurora Sobreviñas, my sister, was only 13 years old when we lost our father and it was my first time seeing her again after the accident.
Looking at her right now, I feel like she has grown so much since then. I always thought she looked more like Camilla in every aspect —from her fox-like eyes, her tiny heart-shaped face to the way her gazes linger and the the innocent gesture she makes when she's fidgeting.
It was that part of her that was more like her mother but at the moment, while watching her shed a tear, I was wrong. She wasn't like Camilla anymore, she has become more like me—torn, sad and broken.
"Mommy is going back to Ilocos" She said, the stutters and the nervous side-glances she made were all gone "I'm coming with her"
Still holding the crutches, I turned to her. We were opposite but oddly alike. Life has taken so much from this child and I; the pain of losing our father shook our world so much that we shatter into broken pieces, like fragmented slivers of mosaic glass.
Suddenly, I realized I ran out of words to say. I do not know what to say at all.
Truth be told, I never knew how to bridge the gap I had with my little sister until Maven came along. I was unusually awkward around her. For me, growing up, she has always been Camilla's daughter and being her daughter made me treat her the same, which I regret later in life.
