chapter 32: miracle

8 3 2

by mirabelivie1

by mirabelivie1

Life had its rhythm, sometimes smooth, other times marked by ripples of tension. My mom worked tirelessly, making ends meet,on her provision store.We were surviving, managing the hardship, but it was bearable. The real strain came from my dad, who barely called us. When he did, it was only when he wasn’t home with his other family. It felt like we were living in fragments of his attention.

One evening, we sat outside, the air cool against our skin as we tried to relax. Suddenly, my dad called. At first, it seemed like the usual sporadic check-in, but his tone was unusually jubilant.

“My wife just gave birth to a baby girl! My second child with her! I’m so happy—celebrate with me!” he announced gleefully.

I froze, staring at my mom, who looked completely drained. Her expression carried the weight of years of disappointment. My dad’s words felt like a knife twisting in old wounds. Without thinking, I snatched the phone from my mom.

"Is that why you’re calling after a week? To announce another child?" I burst out, my voice shaking with anger. "What’s so special about you having another bastard child?"

There was silence on the other end, then my dad’s voice, sharp and furious. "Mimi, is this how you talk to your father? The guts! Mimi, you’ve grown too bold. I blame your mother—she’s clearly spoiling you!"

“No, Dad,” I shot back, my anger rising like a storm. “I can’t just sit here and watch you hurt us anymore. You’ve been parading your mistakes all over our faces, and now you expect us to be happy? Celebrate? For what?”

Before I could say more, my mom, alarmed, grabbed the phone from me. Her voice was calm but weary. "She’s just a child, please forgive her. She didn’t mean it. Mimi, say sorry to your father now."

I crossed my arms and shook my head defiantly. “No, Mom. I did nothing wrong. I’m fighting for us.”

My dad’s voice came through again, colder this time. "Mimi, if you don’t apologize, I’ll disown you. Mark my words."

With that, he hung up.

The silence that followed was heavy. My mom sat quietly, her head bowed. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes, and it broke something in me. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to apologize for speaking the truth. In that moment, I felt torn—angry at my dad, guilty for hurting my mom, and confused about how to handle the situation.