TILL INFINITIES END

49. TIA

Circles...circles....circles....the fan made circles, and I stared at it, getting lost into my own spirals while it worked in its own monotonous patterns. It was 4:30 in the afternoon, but it felt like time had stopped.

I laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to push away the thoughts that had been haunting me for the last two hours. After Papa left this afternoon, there was a brief moment where I felt okay—almost normal. I smiled, even laughed a little, but...it flew off as quickly as it came, it didn't last long. The second papa went away and I was alone, that familiar emptiness crawled back into me, not just me, my stomach, my throat, my head, my heart...everywhere.

It had settled deep in my stomach, spreading like a dark cloud, pulling everything down with it. My throat tightened, like I couldn't breathe.

That feeling... the one that makes it feel like you're being swallowed as a whole—it was back... And this time, it was worse. It wasn't just about Sam anymore. It was everything—every tiny crack in my life felt like it was splitting wide open. But the worst part, the part that made the guilt unbearable, was knowing how much my parents were suffering because of me. They saw everything. They saw how broken I was, how I cried when I thought no one was looking. I could see their eyes, filled with pain and worry and how vulnerable they felt each time they looked at me. And I hated it.

I hated that I was hurting them. I hated that despite of knowing how much they have going on at work, my fucking emotions just couldn't stop.

Mumma and Papa—they gave me everything. LITERALLY EVERYTHING.

They loved me more than anything else in their life. They raised me with so much care and kindness, always caring about my privacy, always keeping care of my needs and wants. But all they got in return was this. A daughter who was crumbling in front of their eyes. A daughter they couldn't help because she didn't even know how to help herself.

How cruel was that? How much did I have to hate myself to drag them through this with me?

And I knew, when they came home later, they'd want to talk. They'd want to help, like they always did. They'd sit beside me, look at me with those gentle, concerned eyes, and ask me if I was okay. And like always, I would fail them. I'd start crying, unable to keep it together, just like this morning. I'd break down, and I wouldn't be able to explain why.

I couldn't do it again. I just couldn't.

I knew avoiding them was wrong. I knew running away from this conversation wasn't going to make it go away. But maybe, just for tonight, I could pretend. Maybe I could give them one evening where they didn't have to see me fall apart. Maybe, just for a few hours, I could let them believe I was okay. Because I had to look strong, despite everything.

I sighed, sitting up in bed, pushing the hair behind my ears. How could I avoid them without making it obvious? How could I give them a break from all this pain? I needed a way out—just for tonight.

And then, it hit me: Myra.

Of course. Myra, yes.

If I told Mumma and Papa I was spending the night at her place, they'd think I was fine. They'd think I was socializing, hanging out with friends, being "normal." They'd believe that I was doing better, that I wasn't locking myself away, which maybe—just maybe—I was finally getting over everything. And for me, to just make them believe this was...enough. Day by day, I could learn how to fake it, and even this pain might lessen.

I grabbed my phone, dialing Myra's number, my hands trembling. As soon as she picked up, her voice boomed through the speaker, full of concern and frustration.

"Where the fuck have you been? I've been trying to reach you for hours! WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU? DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW WORRIED-"

I winced, feeling guilty for ignoring her earlier, but I cut her short.

"-I'm sorry, Myra. I'll explain everything later, but... can I come over at your house tonight? I need to stay at your place," I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

She paused, her tone softening immediately. "Of course, Tia. Are you okay?"

I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill again. "Yeah. I'm fine. I'll explain when I get there. Love you, see you soon," I rushed out, hanging up before I could let her hear the crack in my voice.

I sat there for a moment, staring at the phone in my hand, feeling the weight of what I was doing. I knew this wasn't the right thing to do. I knew it wasn't healthy to run away. But I had to. I had to do it for Mumma and Papa. They needed to see me like I was okay, even if it was just a lie. They needed a break from seeing me like this—broken and lost.

I whispered a quiet apology to them in my head. I'm sorry for being this way. I'm sorry for being the daughter who couldn't hold herself together. I'm sorry for making you feel helpless when you've done nothing but love me. I know I failed in love and as a family both. But please forgive me.

Then, I stood up and started packing my bag. I stuffed my clothes inside quickly, trying to block out the feeling in my chest that was telling me this was wrong. I had to leave before they got home. I had to go before they could ask me how I was, before I could fall apart in front of them again.

Even if I was failing as a daughter, I was still aware of it, unlike the time I failed in love.