It's Alright

Chapter 59

"Anong sabi mo?"

Papa's voice echoed through the room like thunder, shattering the tense silence. My whole body flinched as if the weight of his words physically struck me.

The phone slipped from Kuya Evren's hand, clattering to the floor. Kuya Reden lunged to catch it with wide, shocked eyes, his mouth slightly open as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.

I swallowed hard, my pulse pounding in my ears. My knees felt weak, but I forced myself to stand my ground. I opened my mouth to explain, to try again. "We're in a—"

"And what did I tell you about this?" Papa cut me off, his voice low and harsh. The calm façade was gone now, replaced with a fire that burned in his eyes.

"Papa, please, listen—"

"Ano?" His voice rose, sharp as a blade. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tight with frustration. "Gusto mo bang magaya sa mga magulang mo? Is that what you want?"

Papa's voice trembled, filled with anger and something else—something heavier. "They can't be together because your father needs to work all alone. Because your mother failed to reach her dreams!" He pointed toward the stairs as if accusing me. "And look at her now!"

"Papa—" ayaw ko ng mkarinig ng kahit ano tungkol doon. 

"Hanggang ngayon, andon pa rin siya." His voice cracked, but his anger only grew louder. "Hindi umuusad sa kung anong nasira niya! That's the life you want? You think you know love? At this age? Love destroys people, Lyle! You're too young to understand this!"

He didn't know. He didn't understand. His words cut through me like shards of glass, leaving invisible wounds that throbbed with every beat of my heart. Papa didn't know anything about his own family—about us, about what we'd been through. It wasn't just a matter of personality clashes or petty disagreements. The truth was harsher, colder, and far more permanent. They couldn't be together because they were like oil and water—always trying to mix but never truly blending.

Every time they were in the same room, their voices would rise like a storm, crashing against one another in a fury of accusations and resentment. My father would try to reason with her, his tone edged with desperation, while mymother would push him away—not just with her words but with every ounce of her being. Her hands would tremble, her face twisted in pain as if being near him was a wound that refused to heal.

I used to stand at the doorway, clutching the edge of the frame, hoping—praying—that this time would be different. But it never was. They were like two broken pieces from entirely different puzzles, jagged edges cutting deeper every time they tried to fit together. I think, deep down, Papa couldn't see it—or refused to. And maybe that was the hardest part of all.

Remembering those moments as if I was seeing them right now, made my tears fell from my eyes.

Papa's eyes narrowed, his face darkening. My hands shook as I tried to wipe my tears, but they just kept falling. My voice cracked again as I whispered, "Wala naman po kaming ginagawang masama ni Dion—"