Amana is the youngest daughter in the family. Lucky, right? Everyone says that if you're the youngest, you're spoiled with toys, food, and attention. You're the favorite, the one who gets all the love and none of the responsibilities. It sounds like a dream.
But for Amana, it's the complete opposite.
She watches as her parents fight for what feels like the hundredth time. The walls of their small house barely contain the yelling. No amount of toys or gifts could cover up the truth she's always known-being the youngest means watching it all unfold but feeling too powerless to stop it.
"Mama, iwan mo na po si Papa. Malaki na po ako. Kaya ko na," Amana whispers, her voice trembling. She's been holding this in for years, but tonight, as the shouting grows louder, she can't stay silent any longer.Her mother freezes, shocked by the words.
Is being the youngest really a blessing? Or is it the curse of seeing everything fall apart and being haunted by it, long after the shouting stops?