Beyond the Spotlight | MikhAiah au

chapter 1

Marjorie Jeanette's POV

chapter 1

The sterile hospital room felt suffocatingly small, yet it held all that mattered to me—my mom, frail in the hospital bed, and my four younger siblings clinging to hope. The scent of antiseptic mingled with worry in the air, a constant reminder of the battles we faced.

"Ma," my voice trembled as I approached her bedside, "Kamusta na po kayo? Pasensya na madalas nalang akong nakakabisita, dumadami po shifts ko eh."

Her weak smile tugged at my heartstrings. "Okay lang ako 'nak, 'wag kang mag alala."

But how could I not worry? My mother, the pillar of our struggling family, lay here battling illness while I juggled multiple jobs to keep us afloat. A cashier by day, a waitress by night, or sometimes a delivery rider and whatever odd jobs I could find in between. It was exhausting, but seeing her serene face made it all worth it.

"Ate Jean," my younger sister tugged at my sleeve, her eyes wide with concern. "Gagaling pa po ba si mama? Tatlong taon na po siya dito ate. . ."

I knelt beside her, wrapping my arms around her trembling frame. "Syempre naman Lheyn, malakas si mama diba?"

Beside her, my brothers nodded solemnly, their young faces reflecting a mix of fear and determination. They deserved a childhood free of worries, yet life had dealt us a harsh hand.

"Laban ka lang po ma ha?" I whispered, squeezing her hand gently, "Idadala ko pa po kayo sa amusement park at kakain po tayo sa mamahaling kainan."

Her eyes brimmed with tears, a silent testament to the battles she fought silently for us. I couldn't afford to lose her—not now, not ever.

As the hospital sounds faded into the background, I held onto her hand, praying for strength, for miracles, for anything that would keep our fragile family together. Memories flashed through my mind—of dad, long gone, of the nights we skipped meals so the younger ones could eat, of the dreams deferred in favor of survival.

"Marjorie anak," Mom's voice was barely a whisper, "Salamat ha? nagtatrabaho ka para lang sa'kin, 'wag kang mag alala. Pag hindi na kinaya ni mama, hindi mo na kailangang magtrabaho."

Tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to spill over. "Ma naman, 'wag ka pong nagsasalita ng ganyan."

But deep down, I feared the worst. The medical bills piled up, each one a reminder of our financial strain. Yet, I refused to let despair take hold. We had each other, and that was enough to keep fighting.

Hours passed in a blur of whispered conversations and anxious glances at the clock. The hospital room became our temporary sanctuary, shielding us from the harsh realities waiting outside its doors. My siblings drifted off to sleep, their tired bodies finally finding respite.

Alone with nom, I brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead, tracing the lines of worry etched on her face. She had sacrificed so much for us, working double shifts to put food on the table, always with a smile despite the exhaustion.

"Gagaling ka ma," I murmured, my voice breaking with emotion. "Kakayanin 'di ba?"

Her fingers tightened around mine, a silent reassurance that transcended words. In that moment, surrounded by love and uncertainty, I knew we were bound by more than blood-we were bound by resilience, by hope, by the unbreakable bond of family.

Suddenly, a pang of realization struck me. Tonight was my shift at Stellar Slices Pizzeria, where I worked as a delivery rider. I glanced at the clock—almost time to leave. How could I leave mom's side, even for a moment?