Twice The Trouble

Chapter 93: Another Revelation

Sophia

I was surrounded by only light.

Everything around me was plain white. Like a room inside the sun, but it wasn't hot.

Actually, it was the complete opposite--It felt extremely cold, as though I were in Titanic and the allegedly unsinkable ship was already halfway down the glacial waters, drowning its passengers including Jack and Rose.

Perhaps I should file a complaint about that iconic film. I mean, CLEARLY there was enough room for two people on that broken piece of wood--

"Sophia."

My heart leapt to my throat. That was a woman's voice. I thought it was my sister, but as I frantically scanned the white room for the source of the call, I spotted a tall figure in the far distance. Whoever it was remained standing there, but I felt the woman's eyes on me.

I blinked twice. After the second blink, it was no longer just one person. There was also a man standing next to her.

The woman was tall, and even from across the room, I anyone could tell she had fair, flawless skin and the most luscious blonde hair, long and wavy, flowing down her small waist. She wore a pink long-sleeved cardigan over a simple white dress and black flat shoes.

Upon closer inspection, I gasped loudly.

She was the spitting image of Stacy. The resemblance was uncanny. She had the exact same sky blue eyes, full pink lips, and very similar features---angelic, delicate, perfect. But she wasn't Stacy. She looked like an older, more mature version of my twin. Probably in her late twenties.

Maybe this is how I envisioned our mother. I don't remember laying eyes on her even once, so I imagined she looked like Stacy. Or at the very least, I had seen her when I was a baby?

Which meant...

I glanced at the handsome man standing next to the lovely woman.

He stood a few inches taller than her. His short, dark brown hair matched his brown eyes.He wasn't too muscular. Just right. His face and build were lean, healthy, his jaw reminding me of a chiseled statue. At first sight, he seemed cold and imposing. But as I studied him intently, he was every inch a modest Filipino man. His features were humble, and he wore a purple polo shirt and faded pants.

"Come here, princess."

I burst into tears when he called me that. I ran up to him and sagged into his open arms.

"Mom, dad, I don't know what to do anymore," I cried into his purple shirt, crumpling it with my fingers while I felt my mother stroking my long brown tresses. Her touch was tender.

Anastasia Sta. Ana continued to caress my hair. "You know we love you, right?"

"You do?"

"You and your sister," clarified Stephen Sta. Ana. "Both of you."

"Then why did you leave us?" I sniffed.

"Sophia." My dad held my shoulders and broke the hug. "Nobody has control of everything in their lives."

His brown eyes were a reflection of my own eyes. "You can't change the past but you can only be better in the present and the future. If we had it our way, we would have lived longer. But that's not how it works."

"There are people who leave, but you can only become stronger after they're gone. Sometimes you meet them as a blessing or a lesson. How their role in your story can unfold through your own perspective. They don't always have to be a lesson. You can rig the ending in your favor."