It was a beautiful morning that day, our beautiful baby girl had just been born. No one would have known what was about to happen. No one would suspect it.
I caressed my wife's cheek, our baby in her arms, "愛してます, mahal kita." I whispered gently in her ear, planting a kiss on her cheek. She smiled dearly, i feel as if our child could somewhat feel our happiness and glee as she smiled so brightly. This is beautiful, I thought to myself. The two love of my lives right infront of me.
"Kay ganda mo, aking mahal. Namana ng ating anak ang kagandahang ito." Her cheeks flushed red, somehow, whatever she did—she was beautiful. I got up for a second, to get us both some food.
"Kukuha lamang ako ng ating pananghalian, aking mahal." I prepared our food and was ready to go back upstairs—until someone knocked on the door. I opened it and they came inside without warning.
"Ano po iyon, mga ginoo?" "Pinapautos sa buong Pilipinas na dakpin lahat ng hapon sa ating bansa." My plate dropped to the floor creating a loud banging sound. My wife, is Japanese. The banging sound must've startled my wife as she hurriedly came down the stairs, with our baby in her hands.
"Ikaw! Sumama ka samin!" The policemen spoke to her. "Mga ginoo, hindi ba natin ito maaring pagusapan muna?" Everything was happening so fast. Too fast. "Hindi! Sumama ka samin ngayon din!" They pulled my wife forcefully out of our house. I couldn't let this happen. I grab our baby, and chase after them.
"Asahi!" I cried out, I gave our child to one of our maids. "Asahi! Aking mahal!" She resisted the strong force of the police, she came running to me. I hugged her tightly. The police fired their gun. I stood in shock.
My wife fell to the ground. "ASAHII!!" I cried. She was, gone. No, i-i refuse! She's going to survive this. "Asahi, wag kang susuko, dadalhin kita sa ospital," I said, teary-eyed. "Mabubuhay ka." Tears streaming down my face. "Wag kang umiyak," she reached for my cheek, caressing it softly. "Paalam, aking mahal. 愛してます." She closed her eyes, for the final time. I started crying—sobbing even. She couldn't have gone so soon. Not with the bright future that was supposed to be ahead of us. This war had gone too far.
Her beautiful shiny black hair, glistened in the sunlight. Everyone was wearing pink, her favorite color. I paint her name in big bold letters on her casket, in pink. "Paalam, mahal ko." Tears rolling down my cheeks. They lowered her casket into the ground. This was it. This was the end.
The, end.
YOU ARE READING
War Is NOT the Answer
Historical FictionI have no clue what my vision was, I js started writing about the Japanese War. 🤷♀️. Anyways, this is supposed to be sad and slow but I think I made it a tad bit too quick.
