Beyond the Spotlight | MikhAiah au

chapter 9

Marjorie Jeanette's POV

chapter 9

I walked down the sterile hospital corridor, the familiar scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. Each step felt heavier as I approached mom's room. Visits had become routine, but today, her voice on the phone had carried a sense of urgency that stirred unease within me.

Pushing open the door, I found Mom lying in bed, her face pale against the stark white sheets. Her eyes brightened as they met mine, a weak smile tugging at her lips.

"Marjorie, anak," she murmured, her voice strained but filled with warmth.

"Ma, andito na po ako," I replied softly, taking her frail hand in mine. The touch of her skin was a stark reminder of her fragility, and my chest tightened with a mix of love and concern. "Kamusta na po kayo? Medyo mabuti na ba?"

Mom nodded faintly, her grip tightening around my hand. "P'wede bang pahingi ng pabor?" Her words trailed off, and I sensed there was more she wanted to say.

I leaned in closer, urging her gently. "Po?"

A hint of sadness flickered in her eyes as she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "'Yong bahay 'nak. . . p'wede bang pakibisita at linisan? Kahit saglit lang 'nak, sige na."

Guilt washed over me in waves. It had been almost three years since I left our family home to live with Amethyst in her luxurious penthouse. The decision had seemed right at the time - an escape from the memories that haunted those dilapidated walls, a chance to start fresh in a world of opulence and glamour. But now, as I looked at mom, her words struck a chord deep within me.

"Opo ma," I murmured, squeezing her hand gently. "Bibisita po ako do'n, kung may oras po."

She nodded slowly, her gaze searching mine. "Pero p'wede bang kahit mamaya 'nak?"

Her plea resonated in my heart. How could I refuse her, after everything she had been through? Swallowing hard, I nodded. "O-opo, pupunta po ako."

Her smile widened slightly, a mix of relief and sadness. "Salamat 'nak ha? Ingat ka sa pag punta."

After bidding mom goodbye, I drove in silence towards our old neighborhood. The streets felt both familiar and foreign, lined with memories that seemed both distant and vivid. I parked in front of our house, its weathered facade a stark contrast to the gleaming skyscrapers I now called home. The paint was peeling, and the roof sagged under the weight of time.

Still, the old house held so many memories, and with Mom in the hospital, I felt a strange pull to go back. Maybe it was a need to reconnect with a part of my past, or perhaps it was just a way to distract myself from the constant worry about mom's condition.

I grabbed a few cleaning supplies and headed out. The walk to the house was both familiar and surreal. It felt like stepping into a different life, a life that had been abruptly altered.

When I reached the house, I stood at the gate for a moment, taking in the sight. The garden was overgrown, the paint was peeling, and the whole place looked like it had been abandoned. I pushed the gate open, the creak sounding loud in the quiet afternoon. Memories of happier times flooded back-playing in the yard, family barbecues, laughter echoing through the air.

I approached the door and took a deep breath before opening it. Inside, the house smelled musty and stale, the air heavy with dust. I set down my cleaning supplies and started to tidy up, losing myself in the familiar routine of scrubbing and dusting. It felt good to take control of something, to see immediate results from my efforts.