Five Years Ago | MILKCIIZE

Ciya

Ciize

The Inn started out as a fancy private home on a big piece of land. Now, over a hundred years later, the beautiful Victorian building stood on a narrow strip of land along the National Highway.

The noise from the busy road mixed with the relaxing sound of ocean waves hitting the rocky beach just below the inn's gently sloping backyard. It was kind of like how the hectic streets of Manila sometimes meet the peaceful seaside spots in Batangas or Bohol.

Ciize drove into the inn's large parking lot, parked in a diagonal spot, and turned off the engine. She kept her hands clenched on the steering wheel until she forced herself to relax. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm down, but she knew the truth. She had thought Milk was staying in a hotel or an apartment, but it was actually the Inn.

She wasn't calm.

She wasn't peaceful. What she was, was furious.

Deep down, a hidden anger gnawed at her heart no matter how hard she tried to push it away. "I shouldn't be dealing with this. Dealing with her." She should have been able to leave the past behind. But even as that thought crossed her mind, she had to admit, at least to herself, that the past was never really gone.

It followed her around, showing up during holidays she couldn't enjoy with her child. It came back every August 8th, making her remember another year gone by and wonder about her daughter—what she was doing, what she looked like, how she felt, if she was happy.

Sure! Here's a version that's more relatable for teens:

All those questions were always on Ciize's mind. They were the thoughts she couldn't fully shake, lingering just beneath the surface. She tortured herself, wondering if her little girl was now learning to ride a bike or playing with her favorite toys. If she preferred messy art projects to princess dresses.

And did she ever think about her birth mother?

The sharp, heavy pain of missing her stayed with Ciize all the time, every single day.

The past was a shadow that stayed just out of reach, taunting Ciize with extra memories that weren't real-just imaginary home movies she'd made of the little girl she'd held briefly and then let go.

Sighing, Ciize looked out the front window at the ocean stretching far ahead. The sunlight sparkled on the water, making it look like it was shimmering. Out on the water, sailboats floated calmly under the fluffy clouds, and seagulls flew around and played in the wind. Near the shore, surfers sat on their boards, waiting for the perfect wave to come. She understood exactly how they felt.

Here she sat.

Waiting for some unseen signal to tell her to get off her butt and go face Milk.

She leaned her forehead on the sun-warmed steering wheel and closed her eyes, seeing Milk again. Not just this morning, but five long years ago.

It was all so clear.

Her last glimpse of Milk as she marched out of their apartment, a suitcase stuffed full of her clothes in her right hand. She hadn't stopped to look back at Ciize. Hadn't even lifted a hand in goodbye. She'd just walked away.

And now she was back.

"But nothing's changed, right?" She let out a deep breath and straightened up. Glancing over at the Inn to her right, she pictured Milk in one of the fancy suites. Rich people liked having the best rooms, right? With room service always ready to serve them? She could almost see her sitting at a table, reading the newspaper, and wishing she were anywhere else. It reminded her of how people in big cities, like Manila, sometimes imagine the lives of those staying in luxurious hotels, far from their own everyday worries.