Escape Route

CHAPTER 5

It was past midnight when I finally sat back, eyes burning from the constant strain of reading through pages of research. The library was closed already, but I'd taken my work home. I was sitting at my desk, papers scattered in front of me, trying to squeeze in as much information as I could before tomorrow. Mr. Panganiban's project was looming over me, and I had barely made a dent in it. My brain felt like mush, and I had no idea how much longer I could keep going.

I didn't even hear the door creak open when my dad entered my room.

"Ano na naman 'yan, Adah?" His voice was soft but laced with concern. I glanced up, startled, to see him standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, his tired eyes betraying how much he hated seeing me like this.

He stepped closer, and I quickly looked back at my notes, trying to hide the exhaustion written all over my face. "Wala, Pa. Nag-aaral lang po," I mumbled, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. But even I knew it was a weak excuse.

My dad was always a light sleeper, and I'd been working well past the time I usually went to bed. I hadn't realized how late it had gotten until I saw the clock—12:45 AM.

He sighed, walking over to my desk. He didn't say anything at first, just glanced at the half-empty cup of coffee beside me, the cold, almost-forgotten mug of tea I had left untouched, and the mountain of papers scattered everywhere. "Alam mo naman, anak, hindi ka matututo ng mabuti kapag ganyan ka puyat. Magpahinga ka naman," he said gently.

"Okay lang po," I replied, even though I knew deep down I was lying. My eyes were starting to blur. I was about to rub them when I felt him move away from me and then come back with something in his hand.

When I looked up, he was holding a small glass of milk. Gatas? I raised an eyebrow.

"Uminom ka na. Baka makatulong para makapagpahinga ka ng konti. I know you're busy, but your health is still important," he said, his voice calm but firm, the way he always sounded when he wanted to make sure I listened. He placed the glass on my desk with a soft clink.

I opened my mouth to protest—because, really, I didn't have time for this—but before I could say anything, he sat on the edge of my bed, the way he always did when he wanted to talk. He gave me one of those fatherly looks, like he could see through me, and I knew I couldn't keep lying about how tired I was.

With a resigned sigh, I picked up the glass and took a slow sip. It was warm, comforting, and for some reason, it made the chaos in my head feel a little quieter. My dad watched me, his eyes softening.

"You know," he started, breaking the silence, "I'm proud of you, Adah. Pero hindi ko gusto na parang wala kang tulog. Ang importante, hindi lang kung anong grado mo, kundi kung paano mo aalagaan ang sarili mo."

I looked at him, my eyes a little misty, not because I was sad but because hearing those words from him made me feel... lighter, like maybe I wasn't carrying the weight of everything alone.

I nodded, my voice small. "I'm sorry, Pa. I just... I don't know how to stop sometimes."

"Walang masama sa magpahinga. Hindi lahat ng laban ay kailangang tapusin nang mag-isa," he said, giving me a reassuring smile. "You don't have to do everything all at once."

I finished the milk in silence, the warm feeling settling in my chest. When I set the glass down, my dad ruffled my hair and gave me a gentle pat on the back.

"Sleep na, ha? I'll be here in the morning to make sure you eat breakfast." He stood up, his footsteps quiet as he left the room, but his presence lingered, like a quiet reminder that he was there, looking out for me.

I stayed at my desk for a moment, looking at my notes. But now, I didn't feel as overwhelmed. Maybe it was the milk, or maybe it was the simple fact that my dad cared enough to intervene when I was pushing myself too hard. I looked at the clock again, then slowly shut my laptop, knowing that sometimes the best thing to do was to listen and to rest, even if everything else felt unfinished.